by M. D. Massey
“Damn it, I’m sorry about that. I mean, I know it’s not your fault.” She shied away from me, cowering as she hugged her knees to her chest. “C’mon, let me help you.”
With a bit of cajoling, I managed to help her to a chair, and then I pulled a few things from my Bag. Bottles of water, one of which I handed to Siobhán, which she drank greedily. Hand towels, doused in water, so I could clean her face and arms. And a first aid kit, to dress her wounds and sores as best I could.
While I was working, Siobhán sat there resignedly, allowing me to do to her whatever I must. Her submissiveness was obviously a result of her captivity and torture in Underhill, which might’ve lasted the equivalent of centuries for all I knew. Time moved differently in Underhill, and a year spent there could mean ages on Earth, or vice versa. There was no telling what she’d endured, as fae tended to be hardy folk. But based on her condition, the experience had broken her, mind, body, and spirit.
“Why are you helping me?” she muttered softly.
“Because it’s the right thing to do,” I replied.
She sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “I never cared for you, you know. From the start, Maeve showed more than a passing an interest in you, and it made me jealous. It’s why I was so shitty to you.”
Working in silence, I continued cleaning the grime from her arms and face and treating sores and wounds as I found them. As I cleared away layers upon layers of dirt and filth, scars appeared—lots of them. Burn scars, thin little scars of the type made by sharp instruments, scars from animal bites, small dots over nerve clusters where they’d done bone tickling on her, and more. It was one of the most awful things I’d witnessed, and I’d seen a lot.
Finally, I finished with a cantrip to free her body from lice and other surface parasites. Then I pulled out some clean clothes—an old t-shirt, sweats that were way too big for her, socks, and sandals. I set them on the banquet hall table with a hairbrush, then I pushed the pile in front of her.
“I’ll turn around and let you change,” I said.
She nodded, so I did as I promised. Moments later, I heard the sound of a brush fighting against tangled knots of hair, so I turned back around. Siobhán sat in the chair like a little girl in the ridiculous outfit I’d given her, bouncing one spindly knee nervously as she attempted to tame her hair.
I pulled out a chair next to her, sitting close enough for conversation, but not so close as to spook her. “Siobhán, I need you to tell me how Fuamnach was going to get me out of Maeve’s manse.”
The girl wouldn’t meet my eyes, and her voice was a whisper as she worked the brush at her stringy, tangled tresses. “They’re planning an attack. We’re at the edge of her demesne right now, and when they strike, I’m to lead you to her. You weren’t supposed to notice, you know. I was to glamour you into cooperation. She’ll punish me for my failure.”
I knelt down in front of her, gently taking the brush from her hands. “Listen to me—if we go to Maeve, Fuamnach’ll never have the chance to hurt you, ever again. Maeve and I will make certain of it.”
“Maeve?” she exclaimed in a tone that combined incredulity with venom. “You think I’d trust her, after she left me in Fuamnach’s dungeons? Maeve knows what goes on in that castle—all the Tuath Dé do. No, I wouldn’t go back to her to save my life.”
“That’s fair. And if that’s the case, then I give you my word that I’ll protect you.”
Siobhán’s voice lowered to nearly a whisper again, eyes downcast and face hidden behind her filthy, matted hair. “You can’t promise that. You don’t know how strong she is, Colin. She broke me, and she’ll break you, even Maeve.”
I reached forward, ever so slowly and gently, lifting her chin with tender care so I could look her in the eye. “Siobhán, I can’t promise I’ll succeed, but I can tell you that I’ll do everything in my power to kill that bitch dead. But I can’t do anything while I’m stuck here. At least give me the fighting chance that you never had.”
Her eyes dropped away from mine, and she stared down at her hands for some moments, tears welling in the corners of her bright-green eyes. Finally, she nodded.
“I’ll get you out of here,” she said. “But you can’t stay here in Maeve’s demesne. They’re coming with an army, and you can’t fight them all. You have to run, Colin. Promise me you’ll do that, and I’ll lead you out.”
Grabbing her hands firmly in mine, I nodded once. “Okay, I’ll run for now. But you have to come with me.”
She shook her head, ever so slightly. “I can’t. Fuamnach marked me, and if I did it would lead her right to you. Just promise you’ll come back for me, like Maeve didn’t.”
Knowing that she would suffer the wrath of Fuamnach for letting me escape, the two words I said next were among the hardest I’d ever spoken. But I wasn’t ready to face those bitches yet, and if I stayed here, they’d capture me and then destroy everything I held dear, just for spite. My only choice was to get away, regroup, and figure out how to open and decipher the old man’s journal. Then, I’d make them pay.
“I promise.”
Siobhán led me down corridor after corridor, the walls gradually shifting from painted plaster and wood trim to neatly cut stone blocks, to rough-hewn stone, to limestone tunnels that looked to have been naturally formed. All the while, I attempted to contact the Oak, but it was like trying to find someone in a dense fog. I could hear an echo of the Oak’s presence, but linking up with it was impossible. So, I followed Siobhán in frustrated silence, hoping she wouldn’t change her mind and sell me out to Fuamnach.
After what seemed like hours of walking, we finally exited into a small, round cavern roughly twenty-five feet in diameter. Light filtered from a hole in the center of the domed ceiling, illuminating the stalagmites and stalactites that occupied much of the space. The Oak’s signal was stronger here, but there was no way I’d let Siobhán see me teleport away. That info could be tortured out of her later, and hell if I was going to reveal that secret to someone whose mind was so severely compromised.
Siobhán pointed to the hole above us. “You’ll have to climb out, but I’m sure you can manage. We’re about 150 miles from Austin, at the edge of the Hill Country near Rocksprings. Fuamnach was expecting me to lead you out 300 miles to the east, so you’re safe, for now.”
I looked up at the hole, and freedom, then back to Siobhán. During the trip I’d fed her from the supplies I kept in my Craneskin Bag, and she’d gained a bit of color back in her cheeks. But she still looked fragile, forlorn, and quite lost, and she was hugging herself while looking away from me, avoiding eye contact.
Damn it, I can’t leave her like this.
“Siobhán, how well do you know the paths that lead in and out of Maeve’s home?”
She hitched a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I got you here, didn’t I? No one can know them all, not even Maeve—they shift around constantly. But if you’re asking if I can hide down here, the answer is yes, for a while. Eventually, though, Fuamnach is going to come looking for me, and when she finds me—”
Her voice trailed off, as there was no need to complete that sentence. The consequences of this betrayal would be a fate worse than death, and what Fuamnach would do to this poor fae girl would make her previous torture look like a trip to Disneyland. I’d thoroughly examined her in the magical spectrum during the long walk out of Maeve’s home, and there was no way I could remove the mark that the sorceress had placed on Siobhán.
If I was going to save her, I needed to take her someplace that Fuamnach couldn’t follow—a place guarded by someone even The Dark Sorceress would fear to cross. Outside of realms protected by the other gods, there weren’t many places that fit the bill. Yet I knew of just the place.
I grabbed Siobhán’s hand, hoping I was making the right decision. Then, I opened a mental connection to my Druid Oak, and I willed it to transport us a hundred miles east, to a place near Fredericksburg, Texas. Luckenbach, to be more precise—rig
ht outside Rube’s Icehouse.
The first thing I noticed when we appeared in the gravel parking lot outside the home of The Mountain King was that the lot was empty. That in and of itself was weird, as this was the favorite local watering hole and meeting place for all the old Germanic fae who inhabited this area. But what really caught my eye was the massive thunderhead north of us that stretched from horizon to horizon. It didn’t take a druid’s intuition to know it was headed for Austin.
“No, no, no, no, no,” Siobhán muttered as she tried to pull her hand from mine. “I can’t be out here—she’ll find me.”
“Siobhán, settle down,” I said in a soothing voice. “I need to get you somewhere safe, so I can do what needs to be done.”
She looked around frantically, as if the sorceress might leap out from anywhere at any moment. “No, take me back, Colin—please.”
I grabbed her by the arms, this time gently, but firmly. “Siobhán, listen to me. I looked at that mark she put on you, and I can’t remove it. But I might be able to negotiate safe harbor for you, an asylum of sorts. And if it doesn’t work, I’ll take you right back, okay?”
“I don’t know,” she said, looking around again before making eye contact.
“Listen, I know what I’m doing. Trust me, alright?”
Siobhán must’ve seen the earnestness in my eyes. Seconds later, she nodded reluctantly. “Okay.”
“C’mon, I don’t think we have much time.”
I began walking toward the front door of the icehouse, pulling Siobhán along behind me. After momentarily glancing up at the sky and the coming storm, I looked back to find The Mountain King sitting under a large oak tree near the building, strumming his guitar. Steeling my resolve, I led Siobhán over to him.
The old gnome hadn’t changed his appearance much, although he looked a bit younger than when I’d matched wits with him, maybe late-50s versus early 70s. He wore the same old straw cowboy hat with the rattlesnake band, dusty Western-style work boots, and a plaid western shirt tucked into faded jeans, with a rodeo belt buckle and a tooled leather belt to hold them up. With his beat-up acoustic guitar, he reminded me of a country western singer from way back in the day.
I couldn’t see his pale blue eyes, as they were hidden under the brim of his hat. He didn’t bother looking up as we approached, focused as he was on his hands as his fingers danced across the strings and frets. But I could see the lower half of his tanned, weathered face and the wry smile on his lips.
“Storm’s coming,” he said, as if it were just another summer rain.
“Where are all your customers?” I asked.
“Hiding out, as you two should be,” he replied, punctuating his words with a blues chord progression that made me wish I could play.
“That’s kind of why I’m here, to make a bargain with The Mountain King.”
“Oh?” he said as he set the guitar aside. The old gnome looked up at me, tilting his hat back as he cocked his head at an angle. “What does the last druid on Earth have to offer, and what does he request?”
“You owe me, John.”
“The answer to a question, and that is all.”
It was more than that. Powers like The Mountain King traded in intelligence, and they considered that information to be more dear than gold or precious gems. Losing to me and giving of his knowledge had cost him, if not in a loss of stature, at least in pride of place. Because no one bested The Lord Under the Mountain—until I came along, that was.
“Still, it is my due,” I answered.
“You are willing to give this up?”
“I am.”
He thrust out his lower lip, nodding. “And who is this lovely young lady that graces our presence?”
“Siobhán, Lord,” she said softly, curtseying.
He acknowledged the gesture with a nod before looking at me again. “And why does the druid bring a god-marked leannán sídhe to my door, hmm?”
“I want to trade my last question in return for asylum for Siobhán,” I said.
He frowned, chewing on his lip. I almost laughed because I had no idea that a powerful being like him could have nervous habits—especially not habits like mine. While I exerted self-control by keeping my pie hole shut, Rübezahl fixed his gaze on Siobhán again.
“He gives up much for you. Tell me, why does he do this?”
“Because I placed myself at risk to save him,” she said.
“And why did you do that?” the old gnome asked.
She looked down at her fingers as they worried at the frayed hem of my old t-shirt. “Because he was kind to me, for no reason other than the purity of his heart.”
Rübezahl glanced at me. “Many would consider it a mistake to show kindness to one of our kind. Most would not return the favor if not indebted.” He chewed his lip for several seconds, weighing the offer. “I accept your proposal, Colin McCool. I will provide the girl asylum in my halls for a year and a day.”
“Not good enough,” I replied. “You will keep her safe until I return for her, and not a second less.”
He laughed then, a real honest-to-goodness belly laugh, so loud that it echoed off the walls of the building. “I like you, McCool the younger. Fine, I shall give this beautiful young lady shelter until you return to retrieve her, and should the Sorceress darken my door, I’ll not give fair Siobhán over to her. In exchange, you shall relinquish the right to ask me your third and final question.”
The Mountain King rose, extending his hand to me. “Deal?”
I shook his hand. “Deal.”
Before I knew what was happening, I was practically bowled over by ninety-and-nothing pounds of fae as Siobhán wrapped her arms around me, sobbing. After getting over my shock at the outpouring of emotion from her, I responded, rubbing her back as I cooed words of comfort. It took some time for her to settle down, and I released her when she was finally done, stepping back to meet her gaze.
“I won’t forget this, Colin,” she said with a sparkle in her eye that hadn’t been there before. Then, she leaned in quickly, pecking me on the cheek. “Don’t forget me, alright?”
“I won’t,” I said.
“And kick her ass,” she whispered. Then, she faced The Mountain King and gave him a full, formal curtsey.
He nodded his approval, both to her and to me, then he extended his hand to Siobhán in a regal, formal gesture of welcome. “Come, my dear, let us get you a proper bath, decent clothes, and as much good care and rest as you require.”
A portal opened up behind him, and through it I caught a glimpse of a cavernous throne room, filled with piles upon piles of gold, gems, jewelry, and all manner of wealth. Then, the portal darkened, clouding the view beyond as Rübezahl allowed Siobhán to step through ahead of him. The ancient gnome paused at the gateway to spare me a backward glance.
“This was well done, Druid. Come back any time if you want a rematch.”
“Only if I’m really desperate,” I replied, knowing he’d never let me trick him so easily again.
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Rübezahl replied. Then, with a wink, he disappeared through the portal.
16
Shit looked bad for Austin—really bad. According to my phone, a derecho was headed for the city, basically a land-roving hurricane that would wreak destruction in its path. All over town, people were boarding up windows, battening down the hatches, and sheltering until the storm system passed.
But I knew it was a cover for something greater and even more deadly—an all-out assault on Maeve’s demesne. The attack was meant to distract her, under the assumption that Siobhán was still on their side and leading me to Fuamnach. Man, was she going to be pissed when she found out Siobhán had disappeared, and I was gone.
Using any phone was risky, but I was using a fresh burner, so it’d be safe until I contacted someone I knew. First, I put a call into one of Maeve’s fixers, apprising him of the situation so his queen would have time to prepare. I’d worked with B
randon on one of the first cases I took from Maeve, and despite being snarky as fuck, he was an okay guy—for being one of the fae.
He informed me that Sabine had woken up in a closet, a little banged up but none the worse for the wear. After that, they discovered I was missing and put two and two together.
“Where’s Siobhán now?” he asked.
“Someplace safe, and that’s all I’ll say.”
“Hmm… that’s good, I guess. Siobhán’s loss hit our queen hard. For months, she worked tirelessly behind the scenes to get her back.”
“What happened? Did Fuamnach not want to come to the negotiation table?”
Brandon scoffed. “Quite the contrary. But when the Dark Sorceress insisted that Maeve trade you for Siobhán, discussions ended.”
“Ah,” I replied, not sure how to respond. “That’s… damn.”
Siobhán was some sort of distant relation to Maeve, but closer in her line than I was by far. That she’d sacrificed her granddaughter to save my ass, well—I didn’t know how I felt about that. Brandon cleared his throat, bringing my attention back to our conversation.
“Damn indeed. You owed her a debt, McCool, and I for one am pleased to know you did right by her. Tell me, is she really, truly safe? Fuamnach’s reach is long, even in the mortal realm.”
“I put her somewhere that bitch of a sorceress will never find her.”
“I’ll tell the queen,” he said, then he hung up on me.
“Dick.”
I threw my phone back in my Bag rather than tossing it in a ditch. Then, I cast every kind of obfuscation spell I knew on myself and told the Oak to take me to the junkyard. No sooner had I appeared in the office than Hemi had some kind of shark tooth sword thingy at my neck.
So much for my obfuscation magic.
“Hey, Hemi,” I said, without dropping the spells.