Gunnar rolled his eye at the two, maintaining his position between me and Alvara. Like my very own one-eyed secret service. Alvara – if possible – looked even more alarmed. “You were both in Hell with him?” she hissed, her hands shaking in her lap.
They turned to her, then to me, not sure how I wanted them to respond. “I took them with me,” I told her. “I trust them with my life. Without them, I don’t know if I would have survived. Let alone escaped.”
Talon and Carl both grew rather moody at that, because they’d fought over who would remain behind to become Anubis’ new Guide to Hell – a required cost that hadn’t been explained until after we used Hell’s tour guide, Dante – the author of the Divine Comedy, which had apparently been his memoir. I wasn’t sure how he managed to publish it from Hell, though. It was hard enough to get published while on Earth.
Maybe he had self-published. I heard those authors were taking over the traditional publishing model.
I snapped out of my thoughts, noticing Alvara was about to run screaming from her own house, I held up a hand to forestall her, and then gave her a quick recap of the relevant details about our journey to Hell, and ultimately, how I had accidentally freed Mordred.
She listened in rapt attention, pouring a fresh glass of wine and immediately downing it in one pull, her eyes a little wild around the edges. Once finished, I gave her a few moments to collect her thoughts. I didn’t like sharing that information, but I knew Mordred would just use it against me later, so it was a necessary decision. I didn’t give her all the details, just enough for her to understand the big picture. That this was all my fault.
“I… see,” she finally said. “Then Mordred stole these Nine Souls and escaped…” I nodded. She began drumming her fingers on her knee, studying me. “You will confront Mordred?” she asked.
I nodded firmly. “Yes.” Even though I had no idea how to stand up to his Nine Souls, or even what that meant, exactly. Did it just mean he had nine lives? Or was he nine times stronger than a wizard?
“You have given me much to think over…” Alvara said. “I believe I will share the story of my night with Wylde Fae with some associates at the Chancery,” she said absently, not openly committing support, but speaking as if to herself. I nodded gratefully. That was exactly what I’d hoped to get out of tonight’s meeting. But she wasn’t finished. “The Chancery will be very interested to hear of your allies…” she said, dipping her chin respectfully at Carl, then the others. “Not to mention Callie Penrose,” she added with a faint grin.
“Maybe leave out the tea party part,” I suggested.
The corner of her lip pulled up in a smirk, but she didn’t agree. It had been worth a shot. Maybe hearing that Alvara had humiliated me would gain me support from the Chancery, and I knew hearing about the Elders backing me – even only one Elder backing me – would be enough to cause a panic. Which I was totally fine with at the moment.
“I cannot guarantee their decision, but my voice will give them much to consider. You are a Manling, after all. And a notorious one at that. Any official alliance would likely require an official meeting between you and them, because a decision like this would impact all of us.” I nodded in understanding.
Her eyes locked onto me, and although she’d implied she couldn’t sway the Chancery… that look made me think otherwise.
Chapter 14
I lifted my glass to salute her generosity. She did the same, eyes calculating. I took a sip and leaned back into my chair contentedly. Since I didn’t often do contentedly, my friends watched me with open suspicion, ruining my ruse, damn them. But I had just seen an opportunity.
“I’ve had issues with my Fae magic,” I told Alvara. “Sometimes I can use it easily, but other times I cannot even touch it. Do you have any tips or advice for me? Finding a teacher who doesn’t run screaming in terror is harder than I thought it would be.” And here I was, sitting before a woman who obviously knew a thing or two about Fae magic. Perhaps she could help.
Instead of laughing at my comment or answering me out loud, she just began to stare at me – but in a way that made me feel abruptly self-conscious, as if she was seeing inside of me.
She seemed to snap out of it after a few moments, as if waking up from a dream, shaking her head slowly to reorient herself. “You’re fragmented,” she said, frowning. “I sense vast gaps in you, as if you’ve forgotten parts of your soul.” Something deep inside of me grumbled an agreement, making me tense up. “You need to remember your legend to fully access your Fae side. A re-memory, if you will.”
I stared back at her, considering her explanation. Legend was another word for origin. And she’d used it a few times, tonight. “Because I can’t remember all of my Fae childhood,” I ventured.
She nodded. “Once you take care of all this nonsense,” she gestured, implying Mordred, “you should go visit Fae…” her gaze grew nostalgic, and I remembered that she was no longer welcome to visit her homeland of Fae – that her advice was to tell me to do something she seemed to want more than anything in the world. “Everything will become clear after a prolonged stay, and you would have done the Fae Queens a great service in defeating Mordred, so perhaps they wouldn’t immediately hunt you down.”
I leaned forward, as did the rest of my friends. I felt nervous, but they merely looked anticipatory – at the chance to test out their wild sides again. But I couldn’t just bring an army of my friends to Fae. If I was visiting in order to remember my childhood, I couldn’t afford to babysit anyone. I wisely didn’t mention that, now. “How prolonged are we talking?” I asked.
“Oh, that is a relative question,” Alvara mused. “You are attempting to remember an entire lifetime, of sorts, so I would imagine a considerable period of time. Then again… you are an anomaly, a Manling born in Fae, so who knows? And as a wizard, you are no doubt familiar with introspection, meditation, the quiet, natural life…” I nodded eagerly, encouraged by her words. “Then it shall be easier for you, perhaps also quicker. But none of that matters at the moment. You need to handle Mordred, first, or…” she drew a finger across her throat, shrugging mercilessly.
My shoulders slumped in frustration. She had a freaking point, after all. “I have other powers at my disposal. I’ll just use them.”
She regarded me. “May I offer some advice?” she asked guardedly.
I nodded, not particularly liking her tone. “Please.”
“The… gaps in your soul are not limited to your Wylde persona. I sense… other gaps as well. As if you have only dabbled in these various… powers at your disposal,” she said, enunciating my very words. “Does that make sense?” she asked.
“I think so… I haven’t spent enough time mastering my other gifts like I have done with my wizard’s magic. These…” I struggled for the right word, then set my elbows on my lap, lifting my hands to my head to support it as I stared down at the table. I needed to be open. This was quite literally a chance of a lifetime, and she seemed knowledgeable enough to help. I’d given her enough clear answers this evening for her to open up to me and speak freely.
Fae didn’t do that. I needed to take advantage of it.
“Ever since my parents died, possibly before, I’ve been subjected to random, inexplainable but temporary access to powers that most wizards don’t ever touch. For a long time, I considered it like a weak immune system. That whatever I came across power-wise, I could accidentally contract. To support this theory, I’ve lost as many powers as I’ve gained, just like one shakes off a sickness. So, your advice makes perfect sense. I’m a jack of all trades, and a master of none…” I admitted.
“Perhaps your mind is just searching for the right flavors of magic it wants to keep,” she suggested.
I looked up at her sharply. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Choosing your magic?”
She nodded, opened her mouth, and then closed it, as if considering something. Her eyes touched the ceiling fleetingly before she turned back to me. “Let�
�s make a deal.”
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. There went my chance of an open, honest discussion. “What kind of a deal?” I asked.
Gunnar piped up. “Nate, this is probably not a good idea—”
Carl slapped him in the shoulder, silencing him as he studied Alvara. “Speak, my sweet.”
Alvara nodded slowly, considering each of us. “I would like you to take me and my daughter to Fae when you decide to visit next.” Talon was sheathing and unsheathing his claws subconsciously as he watched.
“Go on,” I said cautiously.
“In return for you smuggling us into Fae, I will assist you in filling those gaps in your memory.” Talon leaned forward so suddenly that even I looked over at him. He averted his eyes apologetically, and I turned back to Alvara. “I may also be able to assist with your other powers as well. I know those in Fae who do not wish to be found but may have knowledge that could aid you.”
I frowned at her. “Aid me with what, Alvara?” I asked, because her words sounded very specific, as if she was referring to something unspoken.
“Being a Catalyst, of course. That’s what is causing all of this. But I will speak no further until we are safely in Fae, and we get your memory restored. You know I cannot lie, so my words are truth. Consider my proposal wisely.”
I blinked incredulously, a million questions exploding across my mind, dancing across the tip of my tongue.
Alice suddenly sprinted into the room, startling all of us. I still heard the running feet from upstairs and realized that the girl had used Glamourie – the art of illusion – to make us think she was still upstairs. Judging by the disapproving look on her mother’s face, she had also fallen for the ploy, too distracted with our conversation to notice the sneaky eavesdropper.
Before her mother could chastise her for interrupting, Alice ran right up to me and hopped onto my lap. She gripped me by the face, and I realized she was crying, and had been for quite some time.
“Please help us get back home, Princess Sparkles,” she whispered. And then she was sobbing into my shoulder, clutching me like her life depended on it. Her tiny body rocked back and forth as she snotted and whimpered all over my neck, and I realized I was gripping her tiny body tightly, stroking her hair reassuringly.
She had knocked my tiara off, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was the pain in her voice.
It reminded me of my brief time with Alex as a child. He was fully grown, now – the magic from Fae having apparently worn off to bring him back to his more rightful Earth age. But… we’d had a moment or two just like this. Where a parental adrenaline shot had hit me like a taser when I saw him in pain.
Alice was clutching me like I was some kind of damned hero. A legend that could accomplish anything. And to be honest, the way she gripped me, clinging to me with her fingers like I was the edge of a cliff…
I kind of began to believe it.
Alvara was watching me thoughtfully. I nodded slowly, continuing to pet her daughter’s hair. I had already made my decision, even before Alice’s emotional plea. If Alvara had a way of helping me get a grip on my powers, I was going to take it. There really wasn’t anything to think about. It was the only bus out of town, so to speak. So, I looked Alvara in the eyes, over her daughter’s shoulder, and nodded. “Deal.”
Alice squealed into my neck, thanking me repeatedly as she clutched me even tighter. After a few moments, she pulled back, wiping at her eyes with her sleeves. “Are you really Wylde? The Manling born in Fae? The Manling King?” she whispered, red-rimmed eyes scanning my face as if she would find proof on my cheeks that I was the boogeyman.
I nodded, “but I’m not a bad guy. Just… misunderstood.” I remembered hearing that Fae children read Manling Tales, much like we read Fairy Tales, and that they were not Disney-rated. “Maybe I can come back some time, read some Manling Tales with you before bed one night. We can laugh at how wrong they all are.” Alice’s eyes shot wide open, and she nodded excitedly. “If your mother approves, of course,” I added.
Alvara nodded thoughtfully, likely thinking of our potential deal, that those stories just might be told over a campfire in Fae. “You’d likely be the only Fae child to ever have such an experience,” she told Alice, knowing exactly how to motivate her. “But you would need to prove to me that you can listen when I speak.”
Alice nodded eagerly to her mother before turning back to me to wrap her arms around my neck, grinning as wide as only children can. In those eyes, I saw that we had made our own pact. About those Manling Tales. And in return, I got her unfettered gratitude. I found myself smiling right back. It was a fair deal.
A pact between a girl and a hero.
A fae child and a legend.
A daughter and a father.
Her mother watched us with a pleased, but haunted look. As if seeing me hold her daughter had brought back a happy memory that was now just a lonely ache. A love lost. The child’s father. Considering that, I clutched Alice in one more hug.
Then I abruptly burst to my feet, restraining her with one hand as I tickled her with the other, ignoring her sudden outcries of protest and laughter. Then I body-slammed her into the pillows on the couch, gently slapping my tiara onto her wavy hair. “Princess Sparkles always wins,” I told her.
Then, I curtsied.
I shot a stern glare over my shoulder at my Drag Queen Divas, placing my hands on my hips in warning. “It will be worse for you if I have to make you do it,” I told them.
And that’s how a werewolf king, an albino lizard king, and a Thundercat all curtsied to a little Fae child. Alice clapped delightedly.
Then, like badass princess rock stars, we retrieved our weapons and left the house – in search of our dignity but feeling like heroes.
Chapter 15
I stopped at the red light, drumming the steering wheel with my fingers, thinking over Alvara’s conversation, that she might be able to help me with the Catalyst mystery.
“She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Alucard murmured from the passenger seat, caressing the leather seat.
“Don’t get your vampire slobber on it,” Gunnar growled.
Alucard grunted, tapping his fingernail against the window. “Is this really bulletproof? I saw the video, but have you personally tested it? I think I could punch right through it.” Talon, having zero interest in our conversation, had decided to take a cat nap.
“I dare you,” I said drily. Alucard grunted. “Why haven’t you tested it, Mr. Manly Man?” I asked Gunnar.
“Because if it doesn’t work, I don’t want to have to explain how I damaged the car.”
I glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “Get Drake or Cowan to do it. That’s the benefit of having minions.”
He nodded thoughtfully and I shifted so that he couldn’t see my grin. I kind of hoped the SUV didn’t live up to the hype, because without a moment’s hesitation, I would tell Ashley the truth, that her husband had put Drake up to the task of shooting her wedding gift.
I felt Alucard’s gaze and couldn’t conceal my smirk. He chuckled.
“What are you two laughing about?” Gunnar growled, leaning between us, checking our hands and then faces for evidence of our suspected crime.
“Nothing. Just admiring the car.”
“Armored SUV— Hey! You just ran over that bush!” Gunnar snapped, pointing it out to me.
“Well, if they would fix the streetlights around here, maybe I would have seen it,” I lied. I had almost missed my turn, distracted by their conversation – and my own mental replay of our talk with Alvara. I desperately wanted to know how Alvara had known Carl’s parents, but now wasn’t the time. I was confident her fear of Elders had played a big factor in her deciding to speak to the Chancery on our behalf – that Carl forgot to mention that he intended to bring an army of Elders to Chateau Falco to serve me. I shivered at the thought. That hadn’t worked out so well for anyone last time.
“Why are we going to Plato’s Cave again? I can�
��t even remember the last time I was inside,” Gunnar said. “We had some good times there, didn’t we?”
I nodded, smiling nostalgically. “Remember when that dragon burned my book? Raven, the yellow one.”
Gunnar nodded. “Yeah. We kicked some serious ass in there. Then Peter killed her.”
Silence settled over the car, and Alucard shot Gunnar a dark look. “Gee, thanks for killing the mood.”
Gunnar sighed. “Sorry, Nate.” The vehicle was uncomfortably silent for a few more seconds. “Hey, remember when you hired Alucard as your manager—”
“I think we’ve had enough of this trip down memory lane,” Alucard interrupted.
“How many times did he get zapped by religious artifacts?” Gunnar hooted, gripping my arm with one hand and slapping Alucard’s shoulder with the other. The Alpha werewolf’s grip made me swerve the vehicle a little, but I was grinning at the memory.
Back then, Alucard was a run-of-the-mill vampire, and hadn’t been able to touch religious items. Since my bookstore was more of an arcane and occult novelty shop as well as a bookstore – and that most everything else was directly tied to a spiritual belief of some sort – basically everything in the store had been toxic to a vampire.
And he couldn’t talk to the customers, because all he could think about was drinking their blood. Or it was daytime, and the sun shining through the windows could have burned him.
Also, my old employee, Greta, had taken it upon herself to send me about a dozen religious pamphlets a week in the mail. So, on a daily basis, Alucard would unsuspectingly get smited by God.
But he was a Daywalker now, and had lost that aversion to religious items, sunlight, and all sorts of perks.
“What was the final tally?” Gunnar pressed, as if suddenly remembering something. “I know you were keeping track, Nate, but I’d forgotten all about it.”
Horseman: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 10 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 8