by Alicia Wolfe
But he looked oh so good.
“I hear something,” I said.
Crouching, we moved into a copse of trees. There were noises ahead—the tread of several sets of moving feet creeping softly through the forest.
“Better not be more damned goblins,” I said.
“I don’t think so,” Nevos said.
Or werewolves, I added to myself. The alpha of the pack ‘round these parts probably wouldn’t be so happy to see me, either.
Surprisingly, Nevos smiled and stood. “Boys,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you.”
He stepped forward, out from the cover of the trees and onto a narrow path. The people we’d been hiding from turned out to be half a dozen biker-types, wearing lots of leather and sporting copious ink. All were male except one, and she was as big and mean-looking as any of the fellas.
I instantly recognized their ilk as those who worked for Angela. Damn it, I thought. I get tired of being right. Nevos had come here to make contact with the witch herself. And it wasn’t just to seek her protection against Walsh, I now knew. It had something to do with the item I’d helped steal. That I’d turned over to Nevos.
Davril had been right. I did have a game.
But my game really, really sucked.
Hoping I could right the wrongs I’d caused, I made myself step forward and join Nevos. The biker-types didn’t even lift an eyebrow.
“Good to see you again, my lord,” said the burliest of the bikers, a guy with a big bushy beard shot through with gray. The words my lord sounded strange coming from someone like him, but he said them smoothly enough. Angela had them well trained.
“You know these guys?” I asked Nevos, playing my part.
“They work for … a friend of mine,” he said. I thought he’d been about to say They work for me, but maybe not. But if he had, that was really interesting. Did some of Angela’s goons serve both her and Nevos? Or just Nevos? Did my lord mean more than it had sounded?
“Shall we escort you out of the Veil or to the Mistress?” asked Graybeard. “Or somewhere else entirely?”
“They’re very accommodating,” I said.
Still wearing that small smile, Nevos said, “To the Mistress, please.” To me, he said, “Are you sure you still wish to accompany me? I can have Maggie here take you out of Shadowpark, and you can be on your way. I’ll send you the bag later via Gavin, or payment if you prefer.”
“Nope. I’m sticking with you. And my bag.”
“Suit yourself. But it may be dangerous where we’re going.”
I snorted. “We were just chased by a dragon, then a band of goblins. I can deal with a biker rally.”
The bikers grinned at each other.
“Cute,” said one, and I didn’t know if he meant me or my comment. Either way, I didn’t fear being recognized. The glamour that had hidden my identity so far would hopefully go on doing so. Like the magical fire, I knew it couldn’t go on forever, but it would last me longer than the fire had. Hopefully for long enough to get clear of this place and get back to Davril. Er, I meant the Fae.
Davril was just my partner.
For a moment, I allowed myself to wonder where he was and what he was doing. I missed his presence. Especially when I was out having misadventures in Shadow-freaking-park. Blech!
“Well, shall we?” Nevos asked me.
He ushered me into the heart of the goon squad, Graybeard snapped an order, and the whole troop got under way. Graybeard, whose name turned out to be Manx (because of course it was), informed us that his group was just performing routine patrols when they’d come across a creepy scene: human skulls on stakes, arranged in a complicated shape, with unknown characters painted on the skulls.
“Must be the goblins,” I said.
“Goblins?” Manx said, as we went along.
“We just came across a band of them,” Nevos agreed. “They could be responsible for the site. It sounds like some sort of ritual magic. Goblins have all sorts of dark rites. I would have to see the characters painted on the skulls to know for sure.”
We pushed deeper into the vast, haunted forest, and I glanced all around frequently. I didn’t trust that the goblins were gone, or Walsh for that matter. We saw no sign of them, though. All too soon, lights blazed through the trees, and the sounds of many people and the smell of roasting meat hit us.
“Welcome to the home of Mistress Angela,” Nevos said, as we arrived at the tall trees that housed Angela’s camp. Lean-tos and huts sprouted from the higher reaches of the trees, and ramps and walkways spanned the gaps between thick trunks. Like before, I thought of an evil version of the Ewok village in Return of the Jedi, or at least a pirate version of it. “She’s an ally of mine,” Nevos added. “Be respectful to her and you’ll be fine. Probably.”
“You’re real encouraging.”
He rolled his shapely shoulders. “She’s a touchy one. She’s committed everything to the fight we’re now engaged in, and recently she lost her daughter to it. It’s made her even more on edge.”
I hit a twinge of discomfort. I had killed Blackfeather, Angela’s daughter. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that I’d been trying to kill Angela but that Blackfeather had thrown herself between my knife and her mother. In a way, she’d killed herself. But that didn’t stop her from appearing in my dreams sometimes, and for guilt to rip at me whenever I thought of her, which was more often than I’d like.
“Should we come with you, my lord?” Manx asked. “Escort you to the Mistress?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Nevos said. “I can see myself there. Thank you for the company in getting here, though. I’ll let you resume your patrol now, or perhaps you’re ready to knock off for the evening.”
“Not with those gobs out there doing gods-know-what,” Manx said.
He led his gang back into the forest. Nevos and I turned our attention to the village in the trees. My mind drifted back to that fateful day on the crystal stairs.
Blackfeather hadn’t been evil, after all. She’d served her mother, who was evil, and she definitely wasn’t good, but in the end she’d sacrificed herself to save her mother’s life. It was hard to hate someone like that, and easy to feel guilty about ending her life. Of course, if she’d been truly good she would just have let me do the deed, right? That’s what I tried to tell myself.
“Jade?” Nevos asked.
I jerked myself out of the reverie. “Yeah?”
“You can stay here or come with me. If you come, you’ll get to meet Angela.”
This should be fun. But if I didn’t go, I would be that much further from the secrets of the velvet bag.
“What are we waiting for?” I said.
Chapter 11
We marched up a ramp to the second story of the village, then found a ramp to the third. Taking a rope bridge, we crossed to another level, and another. Around us rough-looking men and women in leather and tattoos came and went from huts and halls. There were also plenty of witches and wizards, mages devoted to the dark arts who served Angela. Damn, there’s too many. I’d hoped more had died in the battle of the stadium, or at least run away, forsaking their allegiance to Angela. To the Shadow. But nope. Maybe Nevos’s arrival had rallied even more to her cause.
“What do you think?” Nevos asked as we went along.
“Not bad,” I said. I was surprised by his wanting to make small talk at all. Davril rarely did.
Dark shadows fell across the bridge we were traveling on—shadows with wings. I jerked my head up to see several giant blackbirds sweep through the skies overhead, circle around a certain tower, then fly into it through an appropriately sized opening. It must be their roost.
“Don’t mind them,” Nevos said. “They’re the Razor Wings. Shapechangers and witches, high in the councils of Mistress Angela. Friendly enough, if you’re allied with the Mistress.”
“Does that include me?” I batted my eyes at him, and he laughed. A warm flutter spread through my belly. Bastard,
I thought. Won’t you at least put a shirt on? You’re making this more difficult than it has to be. My natural flirtometer was getting confused, and I couldn’t shut it off.
“We’ll see,” he said. “We’ll see.”
A large structure appeared ahead, a multi-storied building sprouting from a huge redwood-like tree. Stained glass windows winked from between knotted boles oozing bitter-smelling sap. It wasn’t the same structure Davril and I had broken into to save Federico, but it was about the same general size and altitude. Two grim witches in flowing black robes stood to either side of the door. Their eyes had been gouged out, and black pits gaped where they had been. Instead of revealing scar tissue and empty sockets, though, the pits plunged into an endless blackness like the void itself. They must be connected with some other plane. Their appearance made shivers course down my back.
Surprisingly, they bowed their heads as Nevos approached.
“Are you here to see Our Lady?” said one, her voice like the creaking of pines.
“I am. And I have a guest.” Nevos indicated me.
Wordlessly, the two witches drew away from the door. It swung open without either touching it, revealing a dark interior. Goosebumps popped out on my arms. Last chance to chicken out.
With gentlemanly aplomb, Nevos placed a hand on the small of my back and gently guided me inside Angela’s freaky treehouse. It smelled of incense and resin. At first all I saw were shadows, but then Nevos waved a hand and the surroundings snapped into focus: surprisingly homey-looking couches and chairs with tapestries hanging from the wooden walls.
A figure was just coming down the tight spiral staircase that led to both a lower and an upper level: Angela. I recognized her flowing black robes and bouncing auburn hair. Steeling myself, I tried to appear like someone who hadn’t been responsible for her daughter’s death and who didn’t know what all this craziness was about.
Angela stepped off the stairs and approached us. She looked younger than last time, with freckles on her cheeks and a cute pert nose. Brown eyes gazed out at us from a deceptively pretty face. Obviously she used magic to lengthen her lifespan and delay aging, even reverse it. Who knew how old she really was? She could be hundreds of years old for all I knew. Then again, she could be using a glamour like I was. Maybe those cute freckles really hid crow’s feet. There was no way to tell.
“Well well,” she said, smiling at Nevos. “Good to see you again, my friend.” Her eyes raked his naked torso. “So much of you.”
He grinned. “Good to see you, as well.” He grasped her hand and kissed it, just as he had mine, and she smiled, seeming to enjoy the attention. Was that why she’d altered her appearance? Did she … like Nevos? The idea made my head spin. I don’t know why, but it surprised me. I guess I just never thought of Angela as human enough to have crushes.
“And who is this?” Angela said, swinging her attention to me.
“This is Jade, or at least that’s what she calls herself,” Nevos said. “One of the thieves I hired to steal that certain item from the mage. You know thieves and names.”
“Ah, yes. Of course. Well, Jade, if that’s what you like to call yourself, you are welcome in my camp, and my home.”
“Er, thank you,” I managed. What next? Would we sit down for tea and crackers?
“It is interesting that you’re here,” she said, and waited for some explanation.
“The mage could sense the item,” Nevos said. “He wanted it back and came after it. Jade and I were forced to flee together.”
“He took the form of a dragon,” I added.
“A sacred form,” Angela said.
I tried to hide a frown. A sacred form? That was a weird thing to say.
Angela shook it away. “Well, was the venture successful, Nevos? Did you acquire it?”
He patted the velvet bag at his side. “It is, as they say here, in the bag.”
“Excellent!” She visibly composed herself. “Can I see it?”
“Certainly.”
Finally, I thought. I would get to see what all the fuss was about.
Nevos moved the bag into his palm and lifted it up, spreading its flap with the fingers of his free hand. He paused, then reached into it, feeling around … and around … just how much stuff was in there? … and finally pulling out …
I stared.
“What is that?” I said.
Nevos handed me the bag. Idly, I stuffed it into a pouch on my belt, but my attention was fixed on the thing in his palm. At first I thought it was a large wooden button, but then I realized it was, or at least it resembled, a wooden handle or knob, like the sort you’d use to open a drawer on a chest.
“It’s a handle,” Nevos said, obviously enjoying my confusion.
Angela stretched out her hand. “Give it here.” When Nevos placed it on her palm, she stared at it avidly, then closed her eyes. I knew she must be communing with it, or getting some magical read on the thing. When she was finished, she opened her eyes and breathed out. “It’s the one. This is it at last. Your work in the outside world was worth it.”
Nevos bowed his head, accepting the praise. “Thank you. Of course, I couldn’t have done it without my new friend.”
Angela’s voice turned brittle. “Then thank you, too. Jade.”
The distaste dripped from her word. “Yeah. Sure,” I said. Hopefully I was a better actress than she was. “But what did I help with? What is it? A drawer knob? I don’t get it.”
“It’s the door to a wardrobe,” Nevos said.
“Well, that explains everything. I love wardrobes! I hope I get first crack at rifling through it.”
“Not that kind of wardrobe, Jade.”
“Oh, poo.” I placed my hands on my hips and tried to look commanding. “Then what kind? Because Vincent Walsh may be a snappy dresser, but I don’t think he’d go through that much trouble to snazz up his look.”
“That’s none of your business,” Angela said.
I opened my mouth to argue, but Nevos added, “She’s right, Jade. I’m sorry. I know you’ve gone to considerable trouble and peril, but you did take that upon yourself. The objective we seek is something outside the scope of your contract.”
I stared from Nevos to the knob, then from the knob to Angela. She watched me, an unpleasant, knowing smirk on her face. I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at her, but it was a near thing.
“A soldier is to do and die, huh?” I said. Off his blank look, I said, “Never mind.” Guess they didn’t read Tennyson in the Fae Lands.
Angela shoved the knob into a pocket. “I will have to perform a working on it,” she said. “I’ll start right away, but I don’t expect to finish for some hours. You can get comfortable and enjoy yourself, Nevos. I’ll contact you when it’s done.”
“Very well.”
To me, she added, “I’m sure Nevos will see you out.”
Piqued, I said, “That’s it? After all that and you’re kicking me out?”
Nevos smiled disarmingly at Angela. “My dear, let her stay. She’s been through a lot, and she deserves a rest. I’m sure she’s hungry, too. Let her stay tonight. I’ll find her accommodations. Who knows, by tomorrow she could decide to join our cause.”
Fat chance, I thought. But I nodded. “Sure. Sounds good. I am hungry.”
Angela’s eyes were cold. “Then so be it.”
She turned on her heels and vanished up the stairs. I started to breathe a sigh of relief, then remembered she had the knob, whatever that meant, and that I’d been the one to provide it. Real good job, Jade. Find out what the villains’ plans are by helping them accomplish it!
“Well?” said Nevos. “Shall we find something to eat?”
“I am starving,” I admitted.
We left Angela’s lair and moved along the ramps and walkways of the arboreal village. A vague wind stirred the leaves and ruffled my hair, but it felt good, and I leaned into it as we went. Nevos walked very close to me, and from time to time I got the impression
he was tempted to place an arm around my waist or shoulders. If he had, I would’ve been tempted to let him. But he didn’t, so I wasn’t forced to decide. Yet.
The moment might be coming, I thought.
We found some biker types grilling meat on a projection of one of the walkways. Mugs of beer were shoved into our hands, then skewers of meat. We laughed and ate, then drank. Neither of us spoke, but that was okay. It was surprisingly easy to share this moment with Nevos. With Davril, it was often awkward. He was so courtly, mannered and reserved. Nevos was relaxed. Wild. And, I have to admit, I was a bit wild myself.
He’s evil, I reminded myself for the hundredth time. Eeeeevil.
Barefoot and shirtless, wearing nothing but tight, tattered pants, Nevos leaned against the railing and ate his kabob. His lips glistened with juice, and his eyes burned with new vigor.
“So what’s all this about?” I said, waving at the village with my own kabob. “I mean, I know it’s secret and all, but you said something about a cause, right? And recruiting me? Well, how can you recruit me if you don’t tell me what you’re recruiting me for?”
“Good question.”
I laughed. “Yeah? So?”
“You could say we’re against the Fae Lords.”
“But you are a Fae.”
“True, but I’m not loyal to Queen Calista. It shouldn’t hurt to tell you that much. She knows we’re here, after all. Her army can’t get at us, but she knows.”
“Why can’t she get at you? Don’t tell me … did Angela make the Veil? Is she the one that sealed off Central Park?”
He took a slurp of beer and shook his head. “No. The truth is we don’t know who did. But Angela was already working on developing a special place, a secret place. When she learned that the Fae Lords feared Central Park, she moved her operation here. I … came later.”