by Lynn S.
“That I know, sweetheart.” Brigitte was calm as ever. “That I know.”
One by one, rapists, murderers, drug dealers, made their way upstairs to meet their final judgement. Brigitte was one to give second chances, but she had never been known to forgive repeated offences. The clever ones understood this and exchanged the evils they had done for her truce and mercy. The ones who’d rather keep on sinning, signed their evictions in blood.
Chapter XX
Two Queens, a Prince, and a Future King
Black everywhere, as four impenetrable walls of iron closed upon one another. Claustrophobia was one of the many instruments of torture in the chambers in the world below. The lands of Aval were never-ending to the eye, but it was barely an illusion. The secret cells of Fae, concealed even from the eyes of the Court, was one of those places where there was no need for smoke and mirrors. These diminutive spaces were meant for the unforgiven of the ruling class. The traitors, the unwanted. This place never felt the caress of Aval’s lilac sun, nor the kiss of soft, silver rain that gave the world a hope of an eternal spring.
So much iron provoked inertia, invited pain to ravage through mind and body. The only source of comfort was a straw mattress in the center of the room. Eventually, the confined would lie down there and die, with eyes fixed on the ceiling. There was no reason to think that an Aval prison had to grant a better mercy. The truth was, those who chose to lie, might as well die, because woven along with fine straw was a curse that deprived the prisoner of sleep and, eventually, sanity, even if the mistress of the land found it in her heart to grant absolution.
Killian always considered the risk he’d end up there. For reasons he could not understand, his mother, Meav, hated him. The false sense of peace between them came through the efforts of Auberon, the crown prince and elder brother to Killian. Meav’s first born always enjoyed their mother’s favor while the queen incessantly found fault and grievances with her youngest. This time, it seemed she’d rather not hear it anymore. Killian had failed; as to how terribly or on what account, he had no idea.
Or maybe he didn’t fail, he just didn’t succeed in dying as his mother had wished.
After waking from a sleeping curse that might have sent him to an early grave, the prince not only returned to Court, but thrived under his brother’s favor. Killian realized his mother allowed for his passage into the mortal world in hopes he might commit a deadly mistake, be it confronting the Morrigan or getting himself in some squabble while wearing a human disguise.
Knowing Meav, it didn’t surprise him that she might have taken further precautions. If he were to disappear while hunting for a rogue, his death might be attributed to Francis Alexander. His only hope was for Bansit to have caught a glimpse of the royal seal the Sidhe had used in their disappearing act. It bore the stamp of Meav.
Unable to break his way out, Killian called for his elder brother. To his dismay, the future king was not within his reach. Auberon loved him and the bond between brothers might prove enough to get his message across the forbidding iron walls. If only he were in Aval at the time. As heir to the crown, Auberon used his privileges to build diplomatic ties between fractured worlds. He was hardly ever home. Little did Meav know that her favorite son despised the Court and its trappings as much as the Unseelie did; he just managed to disguise his feelings with pretenses.
In absence of Auberon, Killian’s only chance for rescue was upon the Morrigan. They could use the mark placed upon him as a beacon. The Phantom Queens always found those whom they had blessed, as well as those they had cursed.
The idea of paying the favor of being set free with two good deeds toward the crows was inconceivable, but his options were not many.
Killian placed his hand upon Mikka’s mark and tasted bile. His disdain for the Morrigan was so great that it manifested in physical form. He prayed, for the first time in over seven hundred years, to the goddess of war, and his prayer broke through black walls, rose beyond a purple tinted sky to find its way to the Spheres.
He had hated Mikka for so long, he didn’t know what to say. And even then, needing her as much as he did, Killian couldn’t give her anything more than the reason for his animosity. He sent her visions when words became irrelevant, even as the memories made way for tears.
One stab of pain and Zaira’s gentle eyes smiled at him. Another, and this time Killian could feel the heat of her skin, eager at his touch, her loving lips, and many a vow made upon a happy wedding night.
“This is all I have to offer you, damn black bird! A reminder of all you owe me.”
At that moment, he wanted to find Mikka, kill her, or perhaps just simply tear his own skin and throw it at her feet and break a bond that might cost him his life, but guaranteed he’d never have to lay eyes on her again.
“Killian…Aidan.” The voice in the past and present merged. Both female, one gave, the other took, and he could not tell which wanted to condemn him and which wanted to set him free. Someone called out to him a second time and the prince became aware. He had been drifting, even as he refused to lie down, oblivion had been seeping in. The realization that he could not be Aidan Faraday in Aval brought him back to where he had to be. Burgundy-colored eyes faced an impatient Morrigan.
“Mikka.” If anything, Killian still afforded a measure of disdain. “I owe you nothing. Is that clear?”
“Not that I care to collect, but yes, you do. Not one, but two.” Mikka raised her hand in a victory sign. “For now, we have other business to attend to. A plot has been uncovered and Annand has summoned the Court. It is a rare occurrence that someone who doesn’t belong to Aval might get the attention of its ruling body. But they did listen. After all, the Morrigan carry the designs of the Universe. They have agreed. As we speak, your brother Auberon is making his way from the outer realms to be crowned Monarch of all Fae. Isn’t it wonderful? Finally, somebody deserving gets that crown.”
“What are you trying to tell me? Is Meav dead?”
“Why must you always be such a dutiful son?” Mikka flicked her platinum hair to the side. “Almost a thousand years in, and you can’t understand your mother’s a bitch.” The Morrigan beamed with an undeniable sense of accomplishment. “Meav is not dead, she is under arrest. Though I can’t assure you she won’t want to be dead when this day is done.”
“Then I can’t come with you,” Killian stated. “I must see my brother. There are matters to be solved. I have questions.” The prince still remembered Francis Alexander’s words. How he had mocked his lineage, taunting him into asking about his past.
Mikka stopped to consider for a second. She was walking ahead of Killian and the width of her dark wings covered most of the hallway. Crossing her arms over her chest, the gesture forced said wings to expand a little further, casting shadows. Killian interpreted her pause as a display of her usual arrogance. He didn’t get to see her face. It might have told him otherwise. The Morrigan’s voice was quiet and considerate.
“Have you ever met someone with better judgement than your elder brother, Auberon? Someone kinder, fairer?”
“Not one.” Killian’s response came without hesitation.
“Then, your highness,” for once, Mikka was not being sarcastic about the title, “let’s leave him be today. We have business to solve on the mortal plane, and your brother will be here when you come back, with all the answers he deems wise to give.”
Mikka escorted the prince to the gates of Aval. Beyond the crossing, the city of New Orleans waited. Deep purples and glints of gold over the gray of waters told him that night was about to fall. The city looked calm; it had already forgiven the morning madness. The Morrigan could not cross into the mortal world, so she watched from the gateway as Killian left his Fae countenance behind and became Aidan Faraday.
Chapter XXI
A Circle of Trust
There was a crypt in Lafayette #1, on the northern side of the cemetery. It was part of a black stone mausoleum guarded by an iron gate that, while
ornamental, was always found open, which, for the unaware, may have led to the belief it was the entrance of a tourist attraction that may be of interest.
After all, New Orleans had long found just about every way possible to make death an extension of entertainment.
However, if it happened, the adventure loving visitor must be warned that going in was easy, while as far as getting out…there was no guarantee one would come back to the same place one started.
Wedo needed not worry about this, or anything else. He knew the crypt like the scales on his hands. The loa of life and brother to Brigitte was a little too antisocial for his expected functions. In fact, some of those gateways that led to other places were his own creation. As much as he loved his sister, it was convenient to have an escape route from her looming presence. In days like these, there were too many strangers prying around their business to have a moment of peace.
For one, there was the Faraday affair to consider. The one no one had been paying attention to. Wedo believed Prince Killian and his Morrigan frenemies should have gone already. He was afraid Brigitte might end up tangling herself in fairy business—more than the usual. But this was not his party, he just made sure the places were set.
On top of that, Brigitte had brought in another stranger. The blonde girl at the center of it all. Too many visitors. The place was no longer safe. So, after retrieving things he considered important from drawers no one would notice, Wedo disappeared. When Marissa and Brigitte walked through the doorway, there was nothing left of his presence. Maybe, and just to the observant eye, the telltale sign of a zig-zag pattern in the dusty hallway.
“I need to know where my mother is,” Marissa required of the oracle. There was a hint of frustration in her tone. Once they left St. Peter Street, even as Brigitte filled her in on the latest happenings, Marissa had to exercise the utmost patience.
Brigitte took her time, running all kinds of wacky errands along the way. Apparently, magic was hungry business and the oracle had to indulge her sweet tooth all across the city. She had stopped in every candy shop between Conti and the Garden District. Now that they had finally arrived, Brigitte piled up her sweet, colorful bounty on a table. She looked more interested in uncovering the mysteries of a pecan roll wrapping than in answering questions.
“Garan told me…” Marissa’s voice raised in tone, which made Brigitte arch an eyebrow and give her a look of disapproval.
“Of course, Garan told you a hundred things. Vampires or not, men are men and they like to make themselves interesting when it comes to pretty young things such as yourself. I bet Garan talked until he felt he could talk no more, didn’t he? You are lucky I’m in hurry. Sometimes I like to take my time and play games, you see…I wonder what would have happened if I decided to wait a little longer. You know, to see him properly baked under the sun. As it is, I think he had already forgotten how beautiful, important, or bound to him you were.”
“Is this your version of hurrying things along?” Marissa was truly annoyed by Brigitte’s lack of answers. “I need answers. I need protection.”
“I, I, I!” the loa shouted while hitting the table. Pieces of candy flew all over the place. “Let me tell you what I think, Marissa Salgado. I don’t like you. I understand you being shy, but I don’t get you being stupid. I’ve never seen anybody so unwilling to deal with their nature as you are. Look where it brought all of us! They will expect me to shed a tear for you, for being a victim. But if you ask me, it is your superiority complex that brought you here. Deny what you are, pretend to be something else, and the world will crumble about you while you hold on to your charade!”
“You have no right to say that!”
“Why not, girl? You are going to come at me with the y’all don’t know me speech?” Brigitte leaned back as her fingers drew quotation marks in the air. “Don’t even think I’m done. You are stuck with me as much as I’m with you. If you want to, you can try to prove me wrong, but I’ll say what I want.”
As she kept ranting, Brigitte started opening drawers. There were all kinds of strange treats and gifts to be discovered in each.
In a moment, the oracle produced a bottle of rum, a Cuban rolled cigar, and a whole array of merchandise, from apparel to shoes. Marissa recognized the brand as that of her favorite store on 32nd Street in Manhattan. The clothing, of course, was meant to fit her to a tee. Brigitte handed her the shopping bags. A point was made. The loa knew Marissa enough to have her measured.
Marissa’s experience with the supernatural was limited to vampyrs, and then only as far as she allowed herself to be taught. The Lady of the Cemetery looked twice as crude as her mother ever was, and though her displays of power had been almost comical and agitated, Marissa knew she must have been infinitely more powerful.
Brigitte, for her part, knew how harrowing a whole exchange could be and continued before Marissa had the chance to open her mouth in self-defense.
“You want to see your mother? I will guide you to her. But first, you’d better be ready to accept your responsibility in all of this. You played a part in her being stuck where she is now. If you were bound to the crossroads as I am, then you’d know better. A little introspection will do you right. What can you tell me about the last time you saw your mother?”
“That night, she came to me and…” Marissa was crushed by shame. She knew what was coming. “Adriana tried to reach out…”
“And you were not even graceful enough to thank her for saving your apple bottom. ’Cause that’s what mommies do, right?” Brigitte chuckled. “For a moment there, I thought Francis might have been a gentleman and treated her kindly. After all, albeit indirectly, Adriana also saved his hide. Carla didn’t hold much hope for Esteban; now we know it. But damn it, she loved her sister. She would have ripped the old man apart, had she only suspected. Now there’s a lesson for you. The Alejandro girls might have been a couple of mofos, but they looked after one another. Sisters before misters, if one must.”
Talking about things that were a must, Brigitte poured a glass of golden spiced rum for Marissa and one for herself, while lighting the cigar. The signs of her office were starting to show. Her speech had become rougher, leaning toward vulgar, and her eyes turned a feral amber. Marissa tried to say something in her defense, but the oracle was not having it.
“Loyalty! Now that’s something to talk about.” Brigitte took a deep drag of the tobacco and exhaled, pouting her lips as if inviting a kiss. “That’s something that dead boyfriend of yours had in spades. Loyalty and understanding. I wonder what would have happened if push came to shove. Esteban was loyal to his brood, but he also had a good sense of right and wrong. We’ll never know now. That boy’s so dead that even I can’t find him. Remind me again…what did you do after all the crying and moaning? All that instinct of yours and you couldn’t tell there was another fool under that skin? Please!”
Marissa reacted with mounting fury, throwing glass and content, swiping the top of the table with her forearm. Candy and clothing hit the floor.
“You will not judge me. And you will not put the blame on me! I know what I have done, and I know what I have suffered. And I think I’ve grown enough to face the consequences as well as to claim some justice for myself!”
“Meow! I like my kitty cats with claws! Now that’s the spirit. I need you to look death in the eye and tell her you’ll take the reins, mama. After all, that’s what a second chance is all about. By the way, that was some gutsy move, cutting your finger off. I like it!” Brigitte waved her own and smiled. “I need someone strong enough to share the weight of what I have done…”
For the first time since deciding to take charge of the conversation, Brigitte slowed her tone. The oracle’s eyes were clouded by guilt; it was her time for a confession.
“I need to know you are worth it, girl. You barely have an idea of what I had to do. Garan Nolton was innocent and, in a sense, even that blood thirsty fiend who shares his body was as well. The dweller had decided to sl
eep within him forever until I came knocking and now every drop of blood is on me.” Brigitte’s hands looked as if they were stained with blood. It was a powerful illusion. Marissa smelled it as the oracle closed her fist and raised it to the level of her eye. “This is what taking responsibility looks like!”
“Oh, stop it, cher. I’m not the first, or the last, pie you’ve stuck your fingers in. There’s no need to torment Marissa over it.”
Garan showed up at the door. Killian and Bansit were following close behind. The vampire looked completely restored, free of the burden of pain or the need for blood. He looked more human than he had in a while, the feast provided by the Lady healed him and gave him enough strength to sustain the light. Now he had the healthy glow of those who spent their days in the sun. Garan’s dark hair rested at the base of his neck, it didn’t have the sinister luster or almost live-like movement that was a telltale sign among his kind. He looked at both Brigitte and Marissa with equal measures of compassion.
“We’ve all sacrificed something. And now that we are so close, revisiting regrets will only lose us what we have gained.”
“Ha! We all needed the wisdom of bayou philosophers!” Brigitte stood on her toes and, grabbing Garan, pulled him toward her. She placed a moist kiss on the side of his neck, leaving behind the red of lipstick and the scent of cloves and tobacco. She waived at Bansit and Killian with a mock military salute and then wrapped her arm around the prince’s waist.
“I need a pick-me-up, sweetheart. Tell me there’s some good fight in you. Somewhere in this crypt, I have a dethroned fairy queen who’s making a fuss about rights. She’s bitchin’ about talking to some people at her level. Because I have such a good sense of humor, I’ll leave you to explain to Meav why she has been deposed.”