“Perhaps a few,” he said. “Couldn’t go altering Britain to suit my needs without running up against a few supernaturals. Their minds are different, my powers can’t always influence things like shapeshifters, that are more animals than men. I need them gone in the long-term. So I made a few inroads there.” He sneered at Mister Leo, who looked to be sitting up now, so maybe he’d live. Khalid and Leo both glared back at him.
Leo found the breath to speak, somehow. “The... werewolves out in... Manchester... you killed them.”
“Had them killed. Really wasn’t hard, once I got my hands on dear Miss Hampston there.” He sneered at Lust. “I had her introduce me to a few Unseelie nobles, then programmed her to forget about it. They thought it a great joke. They also turned out to be susceptible to my powers.” Maestro shrugged. “As the movie says, I’ve got friends on the other side. And an escape route.”
“Which we accounted for,” Lust’s voice dripped cool scorn. “Any fae of noble blood may command a guardian aeternae to shut the ancient gates. I enacted a rite around the Tower, closing them for a time.”
“WE THOUGHT YOU MIGHT CALL THE HUNTSMAN IN, BUT DIDN’T RULE OUT THE POSSIBLITY OF AN ESCAPE ROUTE. TURNS OUT THAT’S PRETTY GOOD—” Maestro turned and fled towards the door. “OH COME ON NOW.”
He slammed his hand against a scanner, that beeped. The door slid open...
...to reveal a man in purple, black, and gold standing on the other side.
“Er,” Maestro said, stepping back.
“THAT’S THE FIRST THING WE COVERED, YOU DIPSHIT, WAS YOUR ESCAPE TUNNELS. CHECK AND MATE.”
The gold question marks around Acertijo’s mask flared in the light, as he stepped forward and Maestro stepped back. Then Maestro tried to pull a gun.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the beatdown that followed.
Acertjio had been training for years, for literally this moment. Although I wanted to share it, I gave it to him. My last gift, in memory of the good times we’d had.
Then I turned my back to him, and rerouted damaged circuitry, beginning the auto-repair routines on my armor. I knelt first by Mister Leo. “ARE YOU GOING TO RECOVER?”
Leo opened his muzzle, and Khalid tapped him on the nose. “Save your breath. Your lung will mend faster.” I didn’t know what was in the poultice that Khalid held to Leo’s side, but it was glowing green. I assumed that was good.
Instead of talking, Leo looked to Lady Thrush, and I’d never thought that I could see such sorrow on a feline face. “SHE WILL RECOVER IN A COUPLE OF DAYS. HER LIFE WAS A LIE. SHE WILL NEED DEPROGRAMMING, AND A VERY GOOD FRIEND AFTERWARDS.”
“I... she has... parents.” Leo rasped.
“TELL IT TO QUEENSGUARD. THEY’LL HAVE MAESTRO’S FILES BY THE END OF TONIGHT, THEY CAN SEE IF THEY’RE DUPES OR AGENTS. IF THEY’RE AGENTS... SHE’LL NEED MORE THAN A FRIEND. PERHAPS A FATHER.”
Leo closed his eyes. After a minute he nodded.
I stood, and looked over to Punching Judy, and found Vector to the side, looking glum as Miss Maskelyne, tears running freely down her face, draped her suit jacket over Judy’s corpse.
“FUCK.”
Delta knelt by Judy, in the puddle of blood, shaking. She held Judy’s hand in both of hers, and she shook, vibrating like her cables would snap at any second.
“DELTA...”
Her mask turned to me, her neck disjointed and her mask turned fully around to face me, head sliding like an owl’s. “He dies.”
“WE’RE NOT FAMILY,” I said simply. “FIRST CLAIM IS NOT OURS.”
Miss Maskelyne looked to me, and I saw emotions warring in her eyes, before she looked away and swallowed hard. “He lives,” she said, simply.
“What the fuck?” Delta howled, so loud that I was glad for my audio dampers. “How is that even just? How is it right?”
Beta moved up to her, and put his hand on Delta’s shoulder. She shot upright, head clicking around, as she dove for the glassteel wall and started hammering it, rapid-fire punches that Judy would have been proud of, over and over again. She howled incoherently, white noise and fury as her hands broke, knuckles split, and sparking cables tore free. It took the rest of the Chorus to haul her back, and finally Beta just stepped in and hugged her. Just held her, until she stopped struggling and slumped into his arms.
“It’s not right,” he told her. “But it’s not our choice.”
“She was my friend,” Delta whispered.
I turned my back and gave her space for her sorrow. Vector moved over to where Rumjack was fiddling with the Green Knight’s head, blood running out of the giant’s helmet to blend with Judy’s. “About a class five regenerator?” Vector asked, feeling around his labcoat pockets.
“I’ve got no idear,” Rumjack replied. “But he’s feisty, so help, please?”
If anyone could handle him, Vector could. I left the heroes and my minions to mourn, and my allies to fix up who they could, and started cutting my way through the glassteel wall. Wasn’t tricky, just time consuming.
By the time I was through, Acertijo was standing over Maestro’s gasping form, blood dripping from his purple gloves. The hero was shaking, panting for breath.
“JAW BROKEN, LIKE WE DISCUSSED?”
“Sí,” Acertijo nodded. “First... thing.”
“GOOD. WE’RE NOT DONE WITH THIS SACK OF FILTH.” I squatted down to Maestro, waiting until his bruised, glazed eyes managed to focus on me. “ALL RIGHT YOU STUPID SMUG BASTARD, WE’VE GOT SOME YES AND NO QUESTIONS TO ASK YOU, AND ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD TO GET OUR ANSWERS...”
CHAPTER 21: IN WHICH DIRE GIVES NO FUCKS
“We will pursue her until the end of time, to avenge the insult done to us.”
--The Mountain King
The world blurred and shifted, until the walls of Maestro’s bunker turned to raw stone, and the lights were replaced by torches in sconces. I waited for the headache to hit, rode it out, and glared around me with sensors on full.
“You know the way?” Miss Maskelyne asked, supporting Maestro’s limp form with one hand. Acertijo had the other shoulder.
Behind them my Chorus fanned out, watching the many exits from the cave. Vector stood in the middle of them, back to back with Khalid. The two had been more at ease since they’d had a chance to demonstrate their physician’s skills.
Apart from all of us, Lust stared at Maestro like a tiger looking at a haunch of meat. Finally, she smiled at Acertijo and deigned to respond to Maskelyne’s question. “Of course. This way.”
I shot a glance behind us as we went. This room had its own pedestal and stone head to go with it. Had to wonder if they were really called hogboys. Something to ask Khalid later, once we were through with it.
Business first before weird arcane questions, though, and I did want to have done with it. Another debt to discharge, before all was said and done.
We followed Lust through long, dark halls, past scurrying things with glowing eyes that faded when we walked by their tunnels. At one point the cavern seemed to shake and start to collapse, but Lust yelled something in a language that had no business being in a human’s mouth, and it stopped.
Finally, we came to a large chamber, lit by countless braziers hanging from the ceiling, burning greasy fires of fat and bone. Pelts of all shapes and sizes decorated the floor, some from Earthly animals, but others impossible to the world I knew.
Some skins were human, and I ground my teeth to see them.
And in the center of it, surrounded by his court, sat the Huntsman.
A lesser thing, clad in furs, slunk forward. “Guests to our court,” he said in passable English. “May I have your names?”
“No,” Khalid replied. “We shall state them as we please, but you have neither claim nor right to them. Nor we to yours.”
The Huntsman stirred as I stepped past the herald, and leveled a gauntlet at him. “WE ARE HERE FOR DOROTHY HAMPSTON.”
“I know of no such person,” he said, resting his chin upon
one gauntleted hand. He was less see-through here, still purple and glowy but more solid, somehow. Much like Rumjack had been on his ship, come to think of it.
“My mother,” Lust said, stepping up to stand beside me. “Who gave the men of the dark trees nine children, as promised.”
“Eight children and one corpse,” the Huntsman said, spreading his hands. “She has not fulfilled her bargain.”
“You did not bargain for live children,” Lust said simply.
“That argument has been settled.”
Lust patted me on the shoulder, standing on tip-toe to do so. “He’s all yours.” Then she turned her back on the Huntsman and returned to the rest of my team, as the court murmured.
“Insolence!” snapped the Huntsman, half-rising.
“SIT DOWN,” I told him, throwing back my cape and pointing a finger at him. “AND LISTEN UP, YOU PRIMITIVE SCREWHEAD.”
The Court went silent.
“YOU ARE IN THE PRESENCE OF DIRE, AND DIRE HATES YOU. DIRE HATES YOUR CRUELTY, YOUR MOCKERY, YOUR LITTLE JAPES AND JESTS AND PRANKS. DIRE CARES NOTHING FOR YOUR MAGIC, YOUR IMMORTAL ANGST, YOUR WHINY ASS LITTLE CROTCHETY MEMORIES OF HOW THINGS WERE BACK IN THE DAY BEFORE MAN FIGURED OUT HOW TO KILL YOU WITH POINTY STICKS. DIRE IS DONE WITH YOUR KIND. DONE DEALING WITH YOUR KIND. DONE LOSING FRIENDS TO YOUR KIND. DIRE CARES ABOUT ONE THING ONLY, AND THAT IS THE BETTERMENT OF HUMANITY, WHETHER IT WANTS IT OR NOT. YOU? YOU CAN GO SQUAT IN YOUR CAVES AND GNAW YOUR HATRED IN YOUR WEAK JAWS FOR ALL DIRE CARES.”
“Insolence! Intolerable insults!” the Huntsman roared, and his blade drawn, he started down the stairs of his throne.
I smiled and twitched my finger.
SNAP!
His sword broke.
His glowy, half-real sword, jerked in his hands as the blade clattered to the ground, leaving the hilt in his hand.
“DIRE HAS SENSORS THAT CAN TRACK YOU THROUGH LEAGUES OF STONE, OH HUNTSMAN, AND THANKS TO OUR PAST ENCOUNTER, SHE KNOWS YOUR ENERGY SIGNATURE.” I took a step forward.
He dropped the hilt, reached behind him to whip a bow from his quiver, and in a heartbeat an arrow was nocked, drawing back...
I twitched my finger.
SNAP!
The bow broke and he took a step back, dropped it to clatter upon the floor.
“DIRE’S ARMOR IS NEWLY REFORGED AGAINST YOUR MAGICS, THANKS TO HER ALCHEMIST FRIEND BACK THERE. YOUR WEAPONS WILL BREAK UPON HER EVEN IF YOU SOMEHOW MANAGE TO LAND A STRIKE.”
I took another step forward. The court murmured and muttered, and the Huntsman slowly lowered his hand to the horn at his side.
I lowered my finger to point at it. He removed his hand. “CLEVER BOY.”
“How?” The Huntsman asked. “Guns do not... The iron doesn’t...”
“YOU’RE RIGHT. COLD IRON BULLETS DON’T WORK. THEY GET TOO HOT TOO FAST.” I waggled my finger, and oh, wasn’t it satisfying to see him flinch. “BUT WHEN YOU PAIR A RAILGUN WITH SABOT ROUNDS, TO DELIVER A COLD IRON CORE INSIDE OF AN INSULATED SHELL... OH NEVER MIND.” His confusion was evident.
“SO. GOING TO ASK YOU ONE MORE TIME.” I took another step forward, and he stepped back. His throne caught the back of his knees and he collapsed into it. “IS A DEAD CHILD STILL A CHILD?”
He was quiet for a very long time. I motioned back at my team, and each member of my chorus lifted an arm, and pointing a single digit each out into the court.
“Yes. I think perhaps we were mistaken,” The Huntsman said. “My liege is absent, but I believe he shall agree with my authority in this case. Dorothy Hampston is free to go. However—”
“NO!” I roared, and he stopped in confusion. “NO CONDITIONS. YOU DO NOT SET THE CONDITIONS. YOU BRING DOROTHY HAMPSTON HERE ALIVE AND WELL RIGHT NOW, WE LEAVE UNMOLESTED WITH HER, AND THAT’S IT. NO WIGGLE ROOM, NO CONFUSION, NO FAIRY LAWYERING. YOU FUCKING DO IT.”
I saw his mouth set. “It will take us time to bring her—”
“NO.” I said, leaning forward until I loomed three feet from him. “THE TIME FOR BEING REASONABLE IS PAST. YOU ARE NOT DEALING WITH HAMPSTON’S DAUGHTER. YOU ARE DEALING WITH DIRE. YOU BRING HER HERE RIGHT NOW OR YOUR SECOND IN COMMAND WILL.”
“Enough!” he roared, his hand flashed—
—and the ancient bronze knife passed through the first layer of armor, and snapped against the cold-iron reinforcement of the third layer.
SNAP!
He jerked, and purplish blood sprayed onto the cushions of the throne. I turned, disregarding his toppling corpse behind me while the Court gasped and fell into a babble of conflicting voices.
“You’ve killed our liege!” A bone-masked, barechested gray man roared, hefting an axe. “You’ll pay for that, you filthy mortal!” He turned, appealing to the crowd. “The mortal can’t kill—”
“INCORRECT!” I roared, throwing both hands out, pointing two fingers at the crowd, watching them draw back in terror. Axeboy fell silent, froze like a rabbit in front of a wolf. “SHE CAN AND FUCKING WILL MURDER EVERY FAE IN THIS GODDAMN REALM UNTIL DIRE FUCKING GETS DOROTHY HAMPSTON FREE OF YOU LITTLE MAGIC TURDS!”
“You would turn all of faerie upon you,” the furred herald slid forward. “Our kin’s kin would avenge us, for the wrongs you have done—”
“INCORRECT!” I roared again, stomping towards him, forcing him to scramble backwards. “YOUR KIN’S KIN WILL PERISH! FOR THAT IS THE FATE OF ALL WHO SEEK TO SLAY DIRE!” He hit the edge of the crowd, tried to scramble backward, and squealed as I lifted him by the neck in one gauntleted hand. “YOU DO NOT DECLARE WAR ON DIRE! YOU PRAY TO WHATEVER FELL POWERS YOU WORSHIP THAT YOU SURVIVE HER WRATH!” I threw him on the floor as hard as I could, ignored the splattering and the reddish blood that sprayed the crowd, and whirled around to point at the axeman. “YOU! ARE YOU THE NEXT IN COMMAND?”
“I... I...” He took three steps backward, whirled, and bolted.
I turned to the next-most imposing courtier. “YOU! ARE YOU THE NEXT IN COMMAND?”
“I am,” came a voice like silk, and a thin, beautiful man slid forth from the crowd. He looked a bit like the Huntsman, only entirely solid and non-glowy, save for his eyes. Tight leathers coated his form, and he had a full brace of weapons across his back and waist. “May we parley?”
“DEPENDS. ARE YOU GOING TO BREAK PARLEY TO TRY TO FUTILELY KNIFE DIRE?”
“No.”
“THEN YES, WE MAY PARLEY.”
“Good. May I point out that even if you should slaughter this entire court without taking any losses, we can simply shut the ways out of here? You would be trapped in faerie forever, mortal.”
“NO,” I said, folding my arms. “YOU WOULD BE TRAPPED IN DIRE’S REALM.”
He frowned, not getting it. “We would be barring you from your realm.”
“YOU MISUNDERSTAND. SHE WOULD NOT BE TRAPPED IN HERE WITH YOU. YOU WOULD BE TRAPPED IN HERE WITH HER.”
Purple eyes flickered to me, to my friends, and back to the corpse on the throne. “I see. Yes, it is perhaps better all around if you leave.” He considered the Maestro. “After all, our bargains with this one were done with my father’s death.” The Maestro sagged, and closed his eyes. I smiled under my mask.
“We shall bring her now,” pretty boy promised.
And sure enough, not thirty seconds later, the crowd parted and a tottering crone staggered through, hunched over a gnarled cane.
“DOTTIE?” I whispered, but caught myself. I looked to Khalid. Khalid shook his head, closed his eye, and tapped the unguent that he’d rubbed on it before we entered this mess.
“YOU LYING TWERP,” I said, and shot prettyboy in the face. He fell, violet blood pooling beneath him, and the Court went still again. The “Crone” picked up her skirts and ran, shedding clothes and illusion as she went.
“FUCKING FAE,” I swore, and surveyed the crowd. “ALL RIGHT, LET’S TRY THIS AGAIN. WHO’S THE NEXT IN COMMAND?”
That day I learned the difference between fae and humans.
Fae are fucking stupid.
&
nbsp; They’re stubborn, and they’ve got a chip on their shoulder about humans a mile long. They also all think they’re pretty much invincible, even in the face of obvious evidence to the contrary. They can’t just give you what you want, or they lose face in whatever big fae scoreboard keeps track of this stuff.
Three cooling inhuman corpses, one declined offer of marriage, and one useless attempt to enchant me later, the Court finally backed down.
“Daughter?” A weary, but familiar voice called from behind the (now-diminished) court. “Di, is it really you?”
“Mother?” Lust whispered, as a lean, gray-haired figure clad in black leather strolled forward, old but still spry.
I looked to Khalid. Khalid nodded, and gave me a thumbs up.
I nodded, and Lust ran forward, wrapped Dottie in her arms. The old woman embraced her, for what seemed like hours...
I checked my chronomoter. Fuck.
“KNOCK IT OFF!” I yelled, and pointed at the seventh-or-eighth in command.
“I am not sure what you—”
SNAP!
“LET’S TRY THIS AGAIN YOU FUCKING MAGGOTS...”
They knocked it off.
“RIGHT. WE’RE LEAVING. COME ON, DOTTIE.”
“Wait. Who are you? What is this?”
“She is called Dire,” Lust said. “Come on, we must go before the Mountain King notices—”
“Dire?” Dottie straightened up, her mouth open. “Doctor Dire?”
The court rippled, and murmured, and I saw a lot of smiles appear on a lot of inhuman faces.
Fuck’em. Wasn’t my true name anyway.
“YES. IT’S HER, DOTTIE.”
“You came.” Her face, hard and weathered and stony by the years, started to crumble. “Oh dear. Terribly sorry.”
“LET’S GO. WE CAN CATCH UP ONCE WE’RE CLEAR.”
The Maestro made gagging noises. Miss Maskelyne shook him, none too gently and he quieted down.
We departed the chamber, feeling hundreds of hostile eyes, all on my back, and I cared not at all. Let them come. I had iron enough for their entire fucking pantheon.
“You’re all right with this bloodshed?” Beta asked Miss Maskelyne once we were back in the tunnels.
DIRE:SINS (The Dire Saga Book 5) Page 27