by M. D. Massey
“As I was saying, Heracles was a feckless brute. And if it hadn’t been for Iolaus and those damned poison arrows, he never would’ve completed the tasks set to him by King Eurystheus. You should take pride in knowing that I hold you in much higher esteem than I ever held Heracles. I fully expect you to find a way to gather these items and bring them back to me.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose—the conversation was giving me a headache. “And if I fail to steal these items for you?”
“I never said anything about stealing the Treasures, Colin. In fact, it matters little to me how you acquire them. All that truly matters is that you bring them back to me.”
“Stealing or acquiring—it’s merely semantics. What happens if I fail to ‘acquire’ these items?”
She looked me right in the eye with a poker face. “Well, then, I won’t let you back through the gate to earth from Underhill.”
“Great. So, I have to travel to Underhill, avoid being killed by various powerful factions while I’m there, kill the Rye Mother, rescue the children, somehow acquire all four of the Treasures of Ireland, and then make it back to the gate in one piece.”
Maeve nodded sagely. “I’d say that sums it up nicely.”
“Am I going to get any help from you in completing these tasks?”
“I suppose I could arrange to provide you with a guide… sort of your own Iolaus, if you will.”
I sucked on my teeth as I considered her proposition. “A guide, plus somebody who’s good at healing magic and glamours.”
“I believe I have just the person in mind.” She smiled like the cat who ate the canary. I was so fucked. “So then, it’s settled?”
I let out a sigh that turned into a growl of frustration and stood. “I suppose I have no choice, do I?”
“Not if you want to get to Underhill. I suggest you take a few days to prepare.”
“Yeah, yeah—this ain’t my first rodeo, you know.”
Maeve’s voice called after me as I headed out the door of the parlor. “And, Colin?”
“Yes, Maeve?”
“Watch your back in the meantime. When my people want someone dead, they tend to send their first string from the get-go.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Just keep that gate warmed up for me. I’ll be back in forty-eight hours, fae hit squad or no.” I did my best to sound confident, but I glanced around nervously as I walked out to my car.
4
Upon leaving Maeve’s house, I headed straight for Belladonna’s place. She’d been working long shifts and was probably just waking up. Since there was no telling how long I’d be in Underhill, I figured it’d probably be a good idea to spend some time with her now, while I had the chance.
I was paranoid as all hell after hearing about the missing troll patrol, so I kept my head on a swivel on the way over. Maeve wasn’t the type to exaggerate, and if she said I was in mortal danger, that was a fact. I circled Belladonna’s apartment building twice before parking several spaces down from her unit.
I scanned the parking lot, the surrounding cars, and the spaces between buildings as I exited the Gremlin. As far as I could tell, the coast was clear. Despite appearances, I pushed my hand through the slit in the pocket of my overcoat and rested my fingers on my Glock 9mm pistol.
As I was approaching Belladonna’s apartment, someone behind me called my name in a low and rough—yet cultured—voice.
“Colin, I need to speak with you. Please don’t — “
I looked over my shoulder, and a glance was all I needed. The shadow beneath his hoodie concealed his face, but I’d have recognized that skinny wizard anywhere.
Crowley!
I pivoted, drawing my pistol in one fluid motion with the intention of landing a three-round burst in the center of his cold-hearted chest. I hadn’t seen him since our battle at his farm, but if he was here now, I had to assume he was seeking revenge.
Before my arm could complete its arc, oily black tendrils of shadow whipped out from around him, like tentacles from some deep-sea monster. The tendrils wrapped around my wrists, preventing me from aiming my pistol at him and holding me firmly in place.
Crowley’s voice cracked at me from where he stood less than ten feet away. “Now, Colin, wait! I just want to talk—”
It was my opinion that if he just wanted to talk, he’d have left the magic tricks at home. I began shifting into my Fomorian form, and as I did I called the Eye’s power up from the alternate dimension where it resided when I was in human form. My clothes shredded as I shifted, and I felt the Eye’s presence quickly transitioning from ethereal to physical.
As the Eye’s vessel made the shift from that other dimension to our own, bright red light shone from my eyes, illuminating Crowley’s shadowy visage. As the light from Balor’s Eye revealed what had been hidden under his hood, I noticed two things. One, Crowley had been hideously disfigured during his previous encounter with the Eye.
And second, Crowley was mortally afraid of suffering a repeat performance of our last engagement. His eyes grew wide, one healthy and whole, the other opaque and partially hidden beneath a hood of burned, twisted flesh and scar tissue. Half of his face was covered in severe burn scars that made his features unrecognizable.
Crowley cringed and cowered away from me, releasing me from the grip of the shadow magic. His voice was weak and pathetic as he begged for mercy. “Please… send that thing away. I mean you no harm.”
He sank to his knees and covered his face and head with his arms. The shadows around him fell away, and for the first time, I could truly see the devastation that the Eye’s flames had wreaked on the sorcerer. While half of his body had been untouched by the fire, his hand and face had been forever changed as a result of being burned by the Eye.
I felt pity for him in that moment, and sent the Eye back to the other dimension as I shifted into my human form. Crowley peeked at me through the shield he’d made of his arms, and I gave him a nod as I gestured at my now shredded clothing.
“Well, now I’m gonna need to change clothes, so thanks for that. If you’re really not here for revenge, you may as well come inside and say hi to Bells while I get dressed.”
Crowley slowly rose to his feet, obviously shaken by the fact that I now commanded the power of the Eye. “I can assure you, I only wish to talk.”
I fiddled with the tattered shreds of one of my overcoat sleeves. “Dammit, I just got this coat.” I looked at Crowley again, making eye contact as I spoke. “I’m gonna take you at your word for now, Crowley. But let me warn you, if you try any funny business…”
He held his hands up and shook his head. “Yes, of course. But, you’ll have to forgive my reticence at letting Belladonna see me this way. I… I’d rather she didn’t know I was here.”
I glanced at Belladonna’s apartment longingly. I’d been gone a long time, and was looking forward to seeing her. “Alright. You can ride with me to my place. And, just so you know, the car is warded nine ways to Sunday. Try to cast any spells in it, and you’ll get tossed out the door while I’m doing sixty down the highway.”
When we got back to the junkyard, I had Crowley wait on the front steps of the warehouse while I went to change clothes. Lamenting the loss of a new trench coat and pair of jeans I’d recently purchased at a thrift shop—not to mention another trashed pair of combat boots—I tossed the lot into the garbage and pulled my spares from my storage trunk.
Once dressed, I grabbed a couple of brews from my dorm fridge and paused at the door to glance at Jesse’s picture. “Well, Jess, this is fucking weird as all hell. Wish me luck.”
I found Crowley waiting for me at one end of the warehouse loading dock, trying to look inconspicuous while the junkyard staff went about their business. He was quite a sight, in a battered leather trench coat—one that I was a bit envious of, in fact—black dress slacks, shiny black boots, and a hoodie that kept his features hidden in shadow… magically enhanced shadow, of course.
But my uncle and the other folks w
ho worked at the junkyard were used to seeing all sorts of characters stop by to see me. Austin was a city of eccentrics, and at least half of my co-workers were inked up like the Illustrated Man. Some sported piercings, others dressed like country hicks, and still others were biker types.
So, despite his obvious discomfort at being out in the open, Crowley really had nothing to worry about. No one here was going to give him shit for his manner of dress. Besides, it was getting late in the day, and everyone was finishing up so they could head home.
I strolled over to the end of the dock and handed him a beer. He accepted it politely and took a nervous swig as I sat down on a nearby stack of tires.
I took a long pull off my own beer and scratched behind my ear. “Well, this is fucking awkward.”
His head bobbed slightly beneath his hood. “It’s not exactly how I pictured this meeting going down.”
“Me neither. Why don’t you start with why you’re here, and why you’re not trying to tear me limb from limb with shadow magic?”
Crowley grunted—whether in laughter or in pain, I couldn’t tell. He dipped his head once, stood, and began pacing back and forth in the small area of hardpacked dirt and weeds between the warehouse dock and the tall, metal fence adjacent to it.
“I never meant for things to turn out as they did,” he stammered. “Please understand, I thought you were a monster at the time. My perspectives have shifted quite a bit since our last meeting.”
“Mine too. Incidentally, I never meant for things to turn out the way they did, either.” I gestured with my beer can at his face and arm. “Does it hurt?”
He gave an almost imperceptible shrug. “At first, yes. Now, the pain is a distant memory. And the scars only serve as a reminder of my hubris.”
I chuckled and rubbed the cold can across my forehead. It was chilly outside, but I felt warm nonetheless. “You realize how crazy this all sounds, right? I mean, the last time I saw you, you were trying to kill me.”
“And you me.”
I frowned. “True, but as you’ll recall, I was just there to get the tathlum back. Hell, I didn’t even want to be there. If it hadn’t been for Maeve blackmailing me, I’d still be minding my own business here at the junkyard.”
The tathlum was the magic stone that Lugh had used to hide Balor’s Eye centuries ago. Somehow, it had ended up in Maeve’s possession, and Crowley had managed to steal it from her treasure vault.
I took another drink of my beer and stifled a belch. “Speaking of which, how’d you steal the damned thing in the first place?”
“With Mother’s help, of course. It was her idea, after all.”
“And your mother is?” I took another sip, swishing it around in my mouth.
He sighed. “Fuamnach. And my father is the Dark Druid.”
I spat beer out in a broad spray across the space between us. “Say what?”
He stopped pacing and turned to face me. “Please, don’t hold it against me. Sadly, we cannot choose our family or our enemies, but only our allies and friends.”
“You got that right—preaching to the choir here, buddy.” I scratched my head and squinted, trying to wrap my head around these revelations. “You’re half-fae?”
He shook his head. “No. In fact, I’m adopted—and fully human.”
I gasped. “You were stolen and taken to Underhill? A changeling?”
“As an infant. I have no idea who my real parents are, as Fuamnach and The Dark Man are the only parents I’ve ever known. I suppose I take after my adopted father more than my mother—in body, at least, if not in temperament. He can be… cruel, at times.”
“That’s the understatement of the year. Can we add to that the words ‘evil,’ ‘heartless,’ ‘twisted,’ and ‘fiendish’?”
Crowley hung his head. “I would not argue with that assessment. However, I only recently discovered the true depth of their depravity. You see, I was raised not knowing who my real father was. The Dark Man was a sort of adopted uncle to me. He would come visit us in Underhill every so often and tutor me in the ways of magic. Of course, Mother taught me as well—but there was something about Father that drew me to him.”
“I take it they sent you here expressly to steal the Eye?”
“Indeed, they did. The Fear Doirich is a master of the druids’ arts of traveling from world to world and dimension to dimension. When I came of age, I traveled from Underhill to earth via my father’s magic.”
I finished off my beer and crushed the can, tossing it into a nearby recycling bin. “I got no idea what you’re talking about, but sure, I’ll buy that. Finnegas has hinted that he has the ability to travel to other places. I just never took the time to find out exactly what that entailed.”
“Father said it cost him a great deal to send me here, and that I wouldn’t be able to return for some time. My instructions were simple: steal the tathlum and bring it back to Mother in Underhill.”
“But you decided to keep it for yourself.”
He paused for several moments before speaking. “Yes. Once I figured out what the tathlum hid, I thought I could use it to remove the threat of your existence from the city.”
“Just curious… did removing me from the picture have anything to do with getting Belladonna back?”
He ignored my question. “At any rate, the magic proved to be beyond my abilities to wield. As you may have discovered, only someone with Fomorian blood running strong in their bloodlines can harness it.”
“Makes sense. So why turn coat on your parents now?”
“Why? Because I was punished for my failure. Father was the one who portaled me away from the farm that night. Instead of healing me of my injuries, he left me to suffer in agony for months as punishment for my failure. Once I had healed, he told me he never wanted to see me again, saying I was no son of his.”
“Man, that is harsh. And your mother?”
He sniffed. “I haven’t spoken with her since the incident. Father abandoned me at one of his enclaves in Greenland. I’ve had quite a bit of time to reflect on those events since. I now realize I was merely a tool they created and used, then tossed away.”
“Still doesn’t explain the change of heart toward me. What gives?”
He hesitated. “Suffice it to say that I’ve seen the error of my ways. Hate can be a powerful impetus, but it can also destroy you. It took the kindness of strangers to teach me that lesson. I will say no more on the matter.”
“And about your adoptive parents… now you want revenge?”
“Not against you, no. During the time I spent alone healing, I realized that you’re just as much a victim of their schemes as I am. I merely wanted to warn you about what they have planned.”
An alarm went off inside my head. “Crowley, why did they want the Eye?”
“There lies the rub. Father can’t take fae back and forth across the Veil. He can only transport himself and other humans—and at great cost to himself. Perhaps you’ve heard that Underhill is dying? For that reason, the fae are desperate to escape what has become a prison of their own making.
“Colin, they intend to use the Eye to destroy the magical barriers at the gates between earth and Underhill, so they can rule here as gods once more. If you go to Underhill to kill the Rye Mother, you’ll be playing right into their hands.”
I was about to respond with my best savior-complex response when a commotion at the front office distracted me. By this time, almost everyone who worked at the junkyard had left for the day. However, my uncle Ed usually stuck around for an extra half-hour or so every day to do paperwork.
So, when I heard him shouting at somebody, it got my hackles up. Uncle Ed was a grouch, but he never yelled at customers.
I looked at Crowley and grimaced. “Hold that thought.” Then I sprinted to the front gate.
When I rounded the corner into the main parking area, what I saw chilled me to my core. There were three tall, lean figures standing in a semi-circle, facing off against Uncle Ed. The
clothes they wore reminded me of those silly 1980s ninja outfits—complete with balaclavas, funny boots, and various pointy weapons strapped all about their bodies.
However, the cloth that these outfits had been tailored from was obviously not of this earth. The material shimmered and shifted in patterns and colors that matched the surrounding environs. It was like looking at the Agents of Shield plane when it was cloaked.
Ed was giving the three mysterious figures what for, and telling them to get the hell out of his junkyard. These freaks weren’t having it, and I suspected I knew who they were really here for—obviously, yours truly.
“It’s a fae assassin squad,” Crowley exclaimed from behind me. “Colin, you must get out of here, now.”
I looked over my shoulder and noted that Crowley was right behind me and spinning up a nasty spell. “How the hell did they get through my wards, Crowley? Did you do this?”
“I swear, it wasn’t me. The reason they can so easily thwart your wards is because they’re human.”
“Shit. Uncle Ed, run!” I yelled as I sprinted toward the office, ignoring Crowley’s warning. The assassins’ heads swiveled as one at the sound of my voice, and they drew their swords immediately. But instead of running, Uncle Ed decided to grab one of them by the arm.
“Hey, buddy,” he growled, as he clasped his meaty hand around the wrist of the nearest fae assassin. “I don’t know what your deal is, but that’s my nephew—” That’s about as much as Ed got out before the assassin’s blade blurred, severing Ed’s hand neatly at the wrist.
From that moment, everything happened at once. I shifted on the fly, ruining another good set of clothes. A black bolt made of shadow and nothing flew past my shoulder and struck the assassin who had cut off Ed’s arm. Crowley’s magical attack blew the figure off his feet, tossing him across the yard to land in a heap of discarded automobile parts.
At the same instant, Ed looked at the bloody stump where his hand had been just moments ago and gasped. Then, he passed out and fell to the ground.