Knell

by Olivia R. Burton

  Finn closed in, hugging Veruca enthusiastically and kissing the top of her head as he gave her ass a gentle squeeze out of sight of everyone else. Veruca grinned, looking up to catch his eye.

  “Don’t sexually harass Donald too much, darling. He’s got a job to do.”

  “I’ll give him a job to do,” Finn mumbled against her ear, making her laugh. Donald rolled his eyes, obviously aware of the painfully obvious joke Finn had made.

  “I will tattle on you,” he said as he and Finn started toward the front door.

  “Don’t be a narc, Donny. It’s unbecoming. Speaking of coming—”

  “Finn,” Veruca called in warning, hearing Finn only giggle at her admonishment.

  “What’s this about danger?” Benedict asked as soon as they were sure Donald had left.

  “The witch has a patron,” Veruca said, trusting he’d understand. “Darcy’s worried that he could show up and cause trouble.”

  “Want me to check the area, let you know if anything’s up?”

  “Couldn’t hurt, but it’s not necessary.”

  “Any patron would be powerful enough to open a portal straight here from Fairy.” Darcy said. “You sneaking about in the underbrush wouldn’t warn us someone’s about to appear here in the living room.”

  “True,” Benedict said, though Veruca got the feeling he had known that and was just looking for an excuse to leave.

  “A patrol here and there wouldn’t hurt,” she said, giving him a knowing smirk. “I didn’t feel anything inhuman wandering around as we came in, but better safe than sorry.”

  “Sounds good. Mind if I grab an apple on my way out?”

  “Not at all,” Darcy said. She’d turned away from him and gone back to looking through the cabinets. Benedict did so silently and headed out through the side door off the far end of the kitchen. “He doesn’t like being here, with me.”

  “I think he doesn’t like being at risk of not being in control,” Veruca said.

  Darcy shrugged. “Same thing. Help me find bowls, please. One metal, three glass. Any size is fine for the glass.”

  “Are you going to make the potions yourself?”

  “I can’t,” Darcy said simply, moving to the pantry.

  “I was joking. I’ve been mostly ignorant of the fae side of things, but I know it takes a witch’s power to activate a potion spell at least.”

  “There is no fae side of things,” Darcy corrected, setting out the bowls in a precise row and then moving to grab two of the jars she’d left on the opposite counter. Justin just watched her, still pleasantly disinterested in what was going on around him as if he didn’t exist. “It’s all fae.”

  “I suppose that’s true, if you don’t count the human world.”

  “It all springs from the queen, regardless of where it rests now.”

  “So she’s God?”

  Darcy paused, her brow lifted in consideration. She sat quiet for a bit, before looking up to meet Veruca’s eyes. “Perhaps it’s not as simple as a human mind can comprehend, but in general, even humans must consider the queen a player in keeping them alive and thriving. Many creatures would farm and eat humans if given the chance. Orlagh does not give that chance.”

  “Good to know,” Veruca said, following Darcy’s lead and setting all the jars of miscellaneous items out around the bowls. Veruca looked once more to Justin, disliking the state of things, but understanding what Darcy had been trying to prevent.

  ****

  “What are you going to do?” Darcy asked. Veruca glanced over from her place on the couch, where she’d been idly meditating, trying not to think about everything happening. “After all this, after you have the power to resist my pull?”

  “After all this, or when we leave the witch’s place?”

  “The former. Will you confront Belial? Will you run and hide?”

  Veruca took a deep, slow breath, knitting her brows. That had been a subject she’d been particularly interested in not thinking about over the last few minutes. Darcy let her consider, wandering over to sit on the chair opposite the couch and waiting patiently for her answer.

  “Perhaps I should ask you the same thing,” Veruca said after a bit. “You won’t go back where the queen’s put you. You have no protection in Fairy or among Belial’s kingdom. You’ve expressed interest in finding a different form, but past that, what do you plan to do?”

  Darcy looked distressed at the idea, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I don’t honestly know. Can I trust you intend to protect me?”

  “I’m not…” Veruca stumbled over her words, shaking her head when she found she didn’t know how to continue. “I can’t.”

  “But you can. You have resources, Ankyati told me of them. She said you have reputation among Belial’s kin and among the fae.”

  “She sold you a bit of a lie. My influence comes from Belial. If I’m no longer in his graces, I’m no longer able to call on his servants.”

  “You worry he will be angry you haven’t given me over?”

  “Well…” Veruca trailed off, contemplating the question. Belial had given her a task, something he’d done many times before, and it was no longer possible for her to complete it. He’d wanted her to track down the banshee, she’d agreed, and now she was going to defy him. He’d given her tasks before, a few she hadn’t completed, but this was to be the first one she’d openly refused to follow through on. Would he be angry? Would he cast her out or send his minions after her?

  Or would he forgive her compassion, understand where she was coming from, and drop the search for the banshee altogether?

  She honestly had no idea. Before searching for the banshee, before listening to Ronald’s nasty tale of his experience collecting souls, she would have assumed Belial would respond like any good father might, with concern and maybe some mild disappointment. Their descriptions of the man—if he could be considered a man, despite the banshee’s tale of his origin—had crept into her perceptions, made them ugly and scary. Veruca wondered, warring again with herself, if that was fair to him and all he’d done for her.

  “I don’t know. My experience has shown him to be caring, to be forgiving, to be genuinely more concerned with my happiness and well-being than with any pursuit of power. But the way you speak of him, that can’t possibly be true. I don’t know … what to believe anymore. I want to speak to him,” Veruca said, realizing it for the first time.

  “You can’t,” Darcy argued, panic thrumming through her entire small form. “You can’t bring him here, you can’t—he’ll find me.”

  “I can prevent that,” Veruca said, leaning forward to rest her hand on Darcy’s knee, hoping it would be a comfort. “I can enlist Benedict, use his skills as a mercenary. Belial’s reach is vast, but I’m confident I can keep you hidden for a bit. Maybe he’ll surprise you and offer you protection. Perhaps he’s changed from the tyrant you knew.”

  “No,” Darcy said, shaking her head rapidly, sucking in an anxious breath. “His evil goes to the core.”

  “I hope I can prove you wrong, but if I can’t, you still have my word that I’ll do my best to shield you until we can find a better way for you to live.”

  Darcy didn’t answer, but Veruca didn’t need words to know it wasn’t trust she would have spoken of.

  ***

  “I’m not fond of that guy,” Finn said as they left Leo’s shop with a few tote bags full of loot. Some of it smelled foul, like rotting pig carcasses dipped in gasoline, but Donald had offered to carry that bag, leaving Finn with a sealed box that didn’t seem to have a scene at all. Strangely, it didn’t even smell of the thick, grocery-bag-style paper it appeared to be wrapped in, no matter how many times Finn put his nose up against it and took a big sniff.

  “I think the feeling’s mutual,” Donald said with a grin. “Either way, we’re putting this in the trunk, good lord.”

  “It’s foul for sure,” Finn said, giving the sack a dirty look. He wasn’t sure Veruca would be able to wash
the stench out but hoped the brownies would have something miraculous that would work. They’d managed to get chocolate, red wine, and blood out of Finn’s clothes just since moving in. “How’re you doing, by the way?”

  “Me?”

  “Well, I’ve no reason to ask myself,” Finn countered, elbowing Donald gently.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I’m not an empath, but I can see that’s not true. You’re worried about Veruca.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “I think not in the same way you are, maybe because I know her so well.”

  “I’ve known her a lot longer than you have, Finn.”

  “Yeah, but…” Finn trailed off, realizing his assertion that he knew her much more intimately than Donald might hurt the bigger man’s feelings. “I’m a lot dumber than you.”

  Donald shook his head, snorting out a laugh, but didn’t speak until they were buckled in and heading back toward the isolated cabin. “She’s stressed. I could see it even if I couldn’t feel it. Something’s got her all tied in knots, in a way I haven’t seen even when you’ve gone missing or gotten lost or accidentally crashed her speed boat.”

  “She told you about that, eh?” Finn asked, wincing a bit.

  “Yeah, but she was nice in the way she did,” Donald said, grinning genuinely for the first time in what seemed like days. “She real—she really loves you.”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty lucky. I certainly don’t deserve it, but I’m trying my best to be someone who does.”

  “I think you’re doing fine,” Donald said, catching and holding Finn’s eye for as long as he dared on the long stretch of dark road. Finn swallowed any quips and references to his fine ass that wanted to jump out and just enjoyed the compliment, understanding that Donald needed the silence.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Veruca could see Benedict standing outside at the bottom of the porch steps. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but it was clear from the stillness of his soul that he was probably heavily invested in whatever it was. She waited a few moments to see if he would move or shift in a way she could recognize as an indicator he was on the phone or doing something he might want to keep private, but he remained still.

  Slipping out the side door, she listened, just in case, and then came around the corner when she heard nothing. He was standing in the dirt, hands in his pockets, staring up at the stars. Veruca couldn’t see his expression from her place on the porch, but she was willing to bet it was tranquil or contemplative. Taking some time to consider him, and perhaps to give him a few more moments of peace, she looked him up and down, wondering about him as a person and how he’d gotten to this place and become who he was.

  “You’re staring,” Benedict said, still looking upward. “If it’s out of admiration, I appreciate it. If it’s out of propriety, it’s not necessary.”

  “Little of both,” Veruca said, closing in to stand one step up from the ground and wait for him to turn.

  He took another moment, before turning his head to meet her gaze. “Something wrong?”

  “I need you to help me with a few things.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.”

  “Indeed. I need you to take everyone somewhere safe, but keep it secret from me. I’m going to arrange a meeting and I can’t have the person I’m meeting poking around in my brain, finding out where we’re hiding Darcy or Finn.”

  “Donald won’t like that.”

  “Yeah, but I need him to stay with them while you join me at the meeting.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “You should be. Donald’s very good, but you do this for a living. He does it … as a hobby. If you can call following Finn around and getting him out of trouble a hobby.”

  Benedict chuckled. “You think you’ll be in more danger than they will,” he said after a few moments.

  Veruca nodded, measuring her response. “I could be in no danger, or I could be instantly killed the moment I show up. I have no idea what problems have been kicked up in the wake of my actions. I don’t know if anyone’s after me or if everyone’s after me—players on both sides are deeply involved. Or, they’d like to be, anyway. I need some answers and the person I’m getting answers from could be very unhappy with me and not want to give them.”

  “What would you like me to do?”

  “I don’t know the situation, but you won’t need to loom over me with a grimace on or anything. Be my eyes and ears, let me know if you see anything I should be aware of. I trust you’ll know the signs.”

  “Got it. Give me an hour to find a new safe house. Would you like them to stick close?”

  “I would like to have no idea if they’re close or far. I trust your judgment.”

  “My judgment says I shouldn’t know either, if I’m going to be on site. I’ll arrange it.”

  “Even better. Finn and Donald should be back soon, so I’m going to go talk to Darcy and the witch, let her know what’s going on.”

  “Are we taking the witch?”

  “I … hadn’t considered. Let me see how involved we need him to be.”

  Benedict gave a single nod, and then pulled his phone out of his pack, turning his attention to it.

  ****

  Finn watched anxiously as Benedict stood over Veruca with a small knife, watching Darcy calmly, as if he wasn’t about to remove a nail from Veruca’s pinky. They’d agreed he’d have the same thing done to himself, and the banshee would be last, but the communal pain didn’t ease Finn’s worry over Veruca’s well-being.

  “Are we sure this is the only way?” he asked for possibly the third time. “We can’t remove a lock of hair or just spit in a jar or something?”

  “Darling, go distract yourself with duckling videos, I’ll be fine.”

  “No, I know you’ll be fine. I’m just making sure…” He trailed off, not sure what he was making sure of.

  “Come on, Finn,” Donald said, slinging an arm around Finn’s shoulder and trying to guide him out of the room. Finn resisted at first, watching Veruca for another moment before realizing he really didn’t want to stay and watch the inevitable. “Show me your favorite duckling videos.”

  “You don’t have to patronize me,” Finn said, lacking his usual interest in joking or being good-natured about the situation. He knew Veruca was taking this on of her own accord, that no one had talked her into it—well, aside from the banshee, but only because it was necessary. Apparently, whatever potion they needed to keep them safe in Fairy required some body part not easily obtained. An entire finger or toe was out of the question, so the witch had suggested a fingernail. Everyone going into Fairy would need it, and since Veruca had said she wouldn’t let Finn risk himself—and pointed out to Donald that she needed him to stay with Finn for safety—only she, Darcy, and Benedict were subject to the painful extraction.

  “I don’t have to, no,” Donald said, his tone forcibly light. “But sometimes it makes you feel better.”

  “I don’t know what would make me feel better now, honestly,” Finn said with a sigh. “Veruca’s banishing us while she runs an errand, tucking us away while she dives head first into the lion’s den, and before all that, she’s got to get jabbed with a knife by a mercenary. I can’t—let’s go outside. I don’t want to hear it if she cries.”

  “I’ll still feel it if we’re outside,” Donald said gravely, as if his burden were heavier than Finn’s, which Finn wasn’t sure he could argue with. Finn may have loved her with more intensity and more deeply, but Donald would have to feel her pain as if it were his emotions being shoved through a wood chipper.

  “We’ll take a walk, then. Just out to, I dunno. We won’t go too far, it’s still dark out.”

  “Sounds brisk,” Donald said as they both headed for the door at a clip. They scurried like rats escaping a ship, neither man needing to admit or admonish cowardice. Finn told himself as they reached the end of the walkway outside that he didn’t hear Veruca cry out because she was tough as nails an
d nothing could hurt her. He refused to admit that Veruca may have been waiting to endure the pain until after she knew he and Donald were far away.

  “How’re you doing?” Finn asked as they slowed to a calmer speed. He stuck his hands in his pockets, looking up to Donald as if it wasn’t too dark to see much of his expression.

  “Same as earlier, really. I’m worried, I’m frustrated. I feel useless.”

  “Yeah, I get that. I’m usually pretty useless.”

  “You’re not useless, Finn,” Donald said, and actually sounded pretty serious. “You keep her happy.”

  “You’re the one with the gun and the rippling muscles. Whip’em out, I’ll show you which ones I mean.”

  “I’m not taking my shirt off, Finn.”

  “Your pants, then. I bet you’ve got some nice thighs.”

  “Clearly that’s not what Veruca’s after,” Donald said, and Finn wasn’t sure for a moment if they’d accidentally tread right into a sensitive subject. “She’s asking me to stick with you and wants Benedict with her for whatever she’s doing with the banshee.”

  “Perhaps you’re exactly what she’s after, you know?” Finn asked, elbowing Donald more to get his attention than to rib him. “I guarantee you I’m in more danger of getting into trouble than she is. She probably knows you understand how to handle me. Benedict’s got no experience babysitting a sloppy Irishman. You’re old hat.”

  Donald was quiet for a few steps before he made a thoughtful sound. A sliver of moonlight passed over his face, and Finn was glad to see that he looked more upbeat than he’d sounded only a few moments earlier.

  “Plus, she loves you too, probably doesn’t want to see you hurt.”

  “So she’s leaving me with you?” Donald asked, a grin in his tone. “You just said you’re a walking disaster.”

  “Well, yeah, but I mean, you know. With the … fingernail thing. I’m sure she doesn’t want to see your manly hands defiled.”

  “That could be it,” Donald said, and Finn was sure he could hear actual relief. “What should we do while they’re off galivanting with the fae?”