Dragon Noir (Pixie for Hire Book 3)

by Cedar Sanderson

  “Now, we can talk.” He settled onto the grass, his legs crossed.

  I sat beside him, legs stretched out in front of me. “Bella and I encountered Baba Yaga when we went to Eastern Court – I’m surprised Dorothy hasn’t told you about it. She was kidnapped by the Hut on Chicken Legs.”

  He shrugged. “Pixie girl is a little afraid of me, shy. I’m working on her.”

  I wondered what he’d done. “But you know who Baba Yaga is.”

  “Ayah.” He looked up into the sky. The bird was a speck in the blue.

  “How does this change things?” I asked him, trying for patience and achieving testy.

  He shrugged. “Two immortals?”

  “You’re going to drive me crazy.” I told him, letting my tone go as dry as I felt.

  He laughed. “Maybe so. Lom,” He had my full attention now. I didn’t recall him ever using my name before. “This is going to be very dangerous, and I can’t help you as much as I would like.”

  “I figured on that. It’s never easy.”

  He laughed again, and got up. “Let’s go beard the lion, as you say. It’s a good day to die.”

  “No, it’s not. I have a better idea.” I scrambled to my feet. I hated having him loom over me. “For once in my life, I’m not wanting to die on a mission.” I started to pace through the grass and flowers. The benefits of having a real office would be chairs, and a desk. I set that whimsical thought aside, and started to send messages.

  Raven, a little smirk on his face, watched me muttering and waving my hands for a few minutes, and then wandered off. I ignored him, being busy planning a war. Sometimes the only way to eliminate a threat was to dig it out, and burn it with fire. I could feel the smile on my face at the memory of Bella and fire, those first few days. I sent her an extra message, knowing it would make her laugh.

  When I had done all I could think of, I looked around. Raven had lain down in the grass and looked like he was fast asleep. I walked over to him and tapped his boot with my toe.

  “Wake up, we’re going to war.”

  He flowed to his feet in an elegant display of athleticism. I’d always known the bird had hidden depths… He was grinning. “Where are we going?”

  I snapped a bubble around us. We’d be meeting up with others when we got there. Then I answered him, knowing he’d understand the spatial references weren’t quite accurate, but it would do. “Chernobyl. Or Underhill, where the worlds touch there.”

  “And what are we going to do there?” His brow was furrowed, but at least he didn’t ask stupid questions about radioactivity.

  “Practice diplomacy. Which neither of us are qualified to do, but they say practice makes perfect.”

  He dissolved into cackling giggles. I didn’t think it had been that funny, but he was ever fond of a joke.

  “We will be meeting on neutral ground. I think.” I hadn’t been there in a long time, and things might have changed. The Underhill analogous to the Olde Worlde, to the Grimm tales humans were familiar with, even in their lighter versions, that part of our world had become a wilderness.

  It had never been heavily populated, we simply weren’t as fertile as humanity. One of the great fears of High Court was that the barriers between worlds would drop, and our world would be swept up in a flood of change. With the passage of time, the fluidity of the land, this area was now filled with ghostly castles of times gone by. It was to one of these I took us.

  When our world had been smaller and more warlike, this place had been built at the peak of a hill overlooking a lush valley. Intended to house the inhabitants of said valley in a siege, it was roomy enough, but I wouldn’t want to spend a winter in it. The gray stone walls were dripping with moisture in the cold spring haze, and I stepped around a clump of brilliantly colored mushrooms – toadstools, I corrected myself as one hopped into them for shelter – as I scouted the courtyard. I didn’t go into the dark hallways. Shattered doors and scraps of wood, rotting slowly into earth on the lintels, spoke of a violent end to this place. Treachery, come to the impregnable fortress. I shivered.

  “Unpleasant place.” Raven watched me making my way around the open area, warding off doors as I came to them. I didn’t know what was making the castle its home, and I didn’t want to meet it. We’d leave soon enough, and disturb it no more.

  I looked over my shoulder at him. “Have you ever been to her territory before?”

  “Not this side of it.”

  I finished with the warding and picked my way back to him, avoiding the various piles of stuff. Bones would have long gone, but the earth was wet and muddy. Slimy in places. “That’s right, you used to have people across the Bering Strait and even as far south as Korea.”

  He shrugged. “Wasn’t Korea then, and Bering was an obnoxious little toad.”

  I laughed. Getting Raven to drop the local yokel act was worth it. “So has she always been a hagged old witch?”

  “No, she can be beautiful when she wants.” He sniffed. “Smells the same whatever face she’s wearing, though.”

  I could smell it now, too. Rotted fish, soil, and decomp. I’d picked a place where she couldn’t bring the Hut, or the disembodied hands Bella and I had fought off in our last encounter with her. They would come up through dirt, but not the solid stone we were standing on now.

  She walked through the narrow gate alone, leaning on a crooked cane. Her head was covered by a colorful scarf, and she looked hideous. Her face a mass of wrinkles and warts, her long nose almost touching her chin. The very caricature of a Grimm fairy tale witch.

  I snorted. “Really? Am I supposed to be Hansel, and this Gretel?” I jerked a thumb at Raven, who chuckled.

  She stopped and fixed me with one beady eye in a piercing glare. Then she looked at Raven, frowning.

  “Do I know you?” Her voice was in keeping with the guise she wore, cracked and trembling.

  “You do.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Siberia lies between us.”

  She straightened and stepped back, almost stumbling. With a shrill cry, she flung up her cane and pointed it at us. “How… Dare!”

  I thought she would fall, but instead she threw her cane, and flipped her apron over her face. The cane landed on the stones with a clatter. She grew, the form under the dress warping oddly, bulging and moving inhumanly. I raised an eyebrow at Raven, who gave me a quick wink. When I looked back, Baba Yaga was transformed.

  There’s a certain illustration I’d seen of a Russian fairytale, and evidently she had seen it as well, or the model for it, perhaps. Tall, slender, and blonde, the witch-queen was as tall as I – which was very tall, for Fae. She would stand head and shoulders over most human women. The dress was gone, or rather, altered to suit her newly regal guise. Unlike Dionaea’s affectation of black, Baba Yaga wore scarlet and gold, embroidered with details so fine I didn’t waste time admiring them.

  “You came to my lands.” She stalked toward us, ignoring her cane. Her voice was cultured, throaty. I had to admit that Raven was right, though. The smell was the same. As she got within a few paces of us, it was downright overwhelming.

  “I did not. This is a neutral place, I am informed.” Raven’s face was blank, his arms still crossed. He looked almost bored. I was doing my best not to gag on the smell.

  “It is not.” She hissed, and whipped around to glare at me. “You!”

  “None other.” I kept my cool. I wasn’t going to let the smell get to me. If Raven could take it, so could I.

  “You bring my mortal enemy to my doorstep, and you were responsible for wounding the Hut almost unto death!” She waved a clenched fist in my face, and I suppressed a strong desire to laugh at the cheap theatrics.

  “Damn. I was hoping we’d killed it dead.”

  She drew herself up and flushed brightly, a most unbecoming color above that fabric. She did much better with the pallor she’d had before I made her angry. “Why are you here?”

  I decided from the near-howl she had delivered that
with, we were close to our goal. Really, she was easy. “We’re here to tell you to knock it off. What you do in your own territory…” I shrugged. “None of my business, although I hear the peasants are revolting. But you’re not expanding. Dionaea only has the living death to back her, and she won’t flinch from turning on you, which you well know. You aren’t as stupid as you look.”

  She gobbled. I don’t think I had ever heard anything quite like it. Had she been a mere mortal, the brick-red of her complexion would have had me worried for her heart. Sadly, I knew mere taunting would not kill this one. I kept going. “So back off. We’re about to take out Low Court. If you pull off your dogs, then you get to keep what you have. Push onward, and well,” I shrugged.

  Raven spoke. “Well you remember the last time we met, witch. You nursed your wounds for a long time, Above. Underhill was barred to you. Could you survive that a second time?”

  She sprang at us, arms outstretched and mouth wide. The beauty had fallen away, leaving the immortal unveiled. The twisted, gaunt limbs were tipped with talons, and the mouth was full of innumerable sharp teeth like a pike. Her hair whipped around her face in a sudden whirl of wind that filled the courtyard, stringy and greenish. She was shrieking, but if there were words, I could not hear them.

  I was ready for this. She hadn’t even looked at the pistol I wore on my hip, but I had my hand on it as soon as Raven started talking. She had been too wrapped up in her anger to catch on then, either. Now, I shot from the hip. There’s a trick to it. If you lay your index finger along the barrel and point, the gun follows. That wasn’t quite what I was doing now, but after long practice, I could put a bullet just where I wanted it. And she was almost on top of us, with her arms outstretched. I couldn’t miss.

  I didn’t miss. I blew three holes in her chest, and then had to dive aside as she crumpled, momentum still carrying her past us. Raven had gone the other direction. I rolled right through the fall onto my feet again, pivoting to keep the gun on her, but she was lying in a tumbled heap.

  “Is she dead?” I asked Raven, who like me was right back on his feet, muddy, but unhurt.

  He shook his head. “It will take her a short time to recover, though. I would suggest…”

  I nodded. “I agree.”

  Some space between us and the vengeful witch would be a very good idea when she came to. I had been ready for this attack, but the next might be quicker. Catching her off-guard would only work once.

  Beat the Drum Slowly

  “So, that was fun. How did you get her to meet up with you?” Raven asked when we were safely away.

  “She wasn’t meeting me. I spoof my ex-wife pretty well, it turns out. If that’s what she looks like for meeting the Low Queen, I wonder if Dionaea has any idea who she is dealing with.” I shrugged. It would be easy to dismiss Dionaea as stupid and greedy, but I knew better. Greedy, sure, but not stupid. Not if she’d kept alive this long and risen this high in Low Court.

  “Well, you did a pretty good job of inciting her into a killing rage.” He looked at me assessingly. “What are you going to kick next? A wasp’s nest?”

  “Next, I talk to the Wild Hunt. Politely.” I really wasn’t looking forward to this one. I’d spent most of my life avoiding them.

  “Them, I’ve heard of. You have interesting enemies, boy.” He shrugged. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Depends. If Bella is there, stick close. She’s… volatile when it comes to me and the Hunt. If not, I may send you to her anyway. She and the King will be coordinating an army by this point if I know her.”

  “Big battle, eh?”

  I smiled thinly. I wasn’t going to show all my cards yet. “That’s the plan.”

  The bubble dropped where I had asked him to meet me. The Huntsman was inhumanly tall, dressed in black armor from a forgotten age, and in an unexpected twist, not mounted. Instead he stood beside the black stag he usually rode, and as I appeared, he made a gesture that sent the beast trotting off into the mist.

  “Mulvaney.” He spoke, and the temperature seemed to drop.

  “Huntsman.” We were alone, and I nodded to Raven, who was standing to my right. “Go on to the Queen.”

  He looked between the black knight and I. To my surprise, the Huntsman let out a grating chuckle. “He is perfectly safe, as I have assured his wife. I will allow him to freely go when we have made our arrangements.”

  Raven nodded, and blinked out of sight. He was a quick learner. I looked at my old foe.

  “I’m safe?” I echoed. “Since when?”

  “Safe is a relative term.” He turned his head to look at the ruined cottage. We stood in what had once been a garden. “You chose this place to taunt me, or perhaps…”

  “It was the beginning.” I felt a burst of impatience. “This is why you hunt me. Or rather, was. Since when am I safe?”

  “Would you rather not be?” He sounded interested.

  “I needed a favor, and that was my leverage.” I laid my cards on the table.

  “The Low Queen.” He nodded. “She is the Hunt’s quarry as we speak.”

  “Call them off.” I growled at him.

  “What?” He could show no emotion, but I could hear it clearly in his voice, surprise.

  “Are they a match for an immortal spirit who causes famine and disease?” I asked him, not knowing the answer, but suspecting it.

  “They are not themselves immortal.” He admitted. “Nor am I. But she is not immortal. She is a fairy, as are you.”

  He didn’t count the fairy/pixie clan split, being far older than it was. Like Alger, the Huntsman was beyond old, even if he claimed not immortal. “She’s not immortal, but do you know what the Wendigo is?”

  He cocked his head at me. “This is not a name I know.”

  “It came from Above.” I explained, suddenly feeling very tired. “It’s an ancient spirit, like Raven, who just went to Bella. It’s not mortal, can’t be killed, and I’m going to take it on with Raven’s help. But she will sic it on the Hunt if you corner her, and I need you to do something else, instead.”

  “The Hunt does not do the bidding of the Court.” The voice was implacable, blocks of granite grating together.

  “I know. You are not a tame Hunt, you are the Wild Hunt.” He wouldn’t get that reference. “This isn’t bidding, it’s a suggestion. One you’ll listen to unless you want to be decimated.”

  “I am listening.” He sounded calm again.

  “Besides, I’m not the Court. I’m the Hunt’s meat.” I bared my teeth at him. Safety, he’d promised, but he hadn’t said for how long.

  He snorted. I kept talking. “There’s going to be a battle. We’re forcing it to take place rather than letting her dictate to us. I’m asking you to fight beside the Court. Allies, not servants.”

  He nodded. “You mean to return to an earlier age.”

  “No. I mean to squash this insanity now, before it gets uglier.” I looked at the cottage and wondered if her bones were still lying beside the fireplace, and if it were still a gate to another world. “Our world isn’t always a kind one. But if Dionaea gets her way, she will destroy this one, and unleash an evil on another world she cannot control.”

  “That cannot be allowed.” He followed my gaze. “She was breaking the laws.”

  “You know, in the human version of the tale, she married the king. Lived happily ever after. But then, their versions usually were kinder and gentler than reality.”

  “You defied the Hunt twice.” He mused. “Once for kindness, yourself.”

  “Aye. The girl in the ashes deserved to dream.”

  I didn’t give him a chance to reply to that. I hadn’t had a chance to save my little playmate from them, but that hadn’t kept me from being foolish and attempting to save her from their style of justice. Bringing it down on my own head with that defiance, while she lay broken and bleeding with the delicate slipper still clutched in her hand, only inches from her freedom in the world Above.

  I
knew he would do what I wanted. Without mercy, he might be. But he wasn’t foolish. He would ride beside the army of the Court into battle, while I followed the forlorn hope in a different direction.

  I found Bella. She was at Court, and seemed to understand when I whisked her into an empty room, then pulled her hungrily into my arms. She was warm, and I was chilled through after my conversation with the Huntsman.

  “The Hunt will ride with Court into battle.” I told her, when we could talk again. “I wanted to make sure you understood they are on our side, this time.”

  She nodded. “He said you were safe.”

  “He give you a time limit on that?” I felt my lips stretching into a feral grin.

  She got a look for surprise on her face. “No… but Lom…”

  “It’s okay, honey, we have an understanding.” I kissed her again. “I must go. I have a long trip to see old friends in front of me.”

  She let go of me. “I know what we’re doing, and why, but I…”

  I laid a finger on her lips gently. “Will be fine. More protected than anyone, and not on the battlefield, anyway. No more than I will be.”

  She nodded wordlessly.

  “Dean is coming.”

  “He’s here already. And that’s where I was headed, to a council of war.” She sighed. “When will you be home?”

  “I may stay overnight at Eastern Court. I’ll be tired.” I didn’t want to be away from her, but I recognized that I had limits. I didn’t know how much talking I would have to do to persuade Yiu Jao to lend us support. Also, negotiations there were more delicately handled than I’d been doing so far. Involving plenty of saké and tea, which would leave me sleepy and wanting a bed and bathroom. The last time we had paid the old scoundrel a visit, those had been cut short. He would make up for that, I was afraid.