by Al K. Line
This was the heart of the old home, rooms used for entertaining, for dining, for relaxing in the evening, and for ruling over a large empire, but nowhere for playing. It was cold and heartless despite the heat and beauty that surrounded us. This was a life abandoned, and nothing we did here would ever bring it back, could ever make this a home again for Sasha.
And then we emerged through a hidden door into a grand area with a carved rib-vault ceiling criss-crossing like something out of a gothic masterpiece. The floor was smooth marble, and we kicked up faery dust as we stepped cautiously across it. A double staircase with the same marble for steps and rails swept up either side in a majestic curve that made me lightheaded. It was beyond nice, it was true art with a depth that was impossible to explain. It was something wondrous, designed by a sharp mind. Definitely not her father's; her mother's maybe.
Sasha stared at it and shed silent tears.
"I ran up and down these stairs a million times in my youth. Slid down the banisters, got scolded repeatedly. But I never listened, always had to do it one more time. My mother would catch me at the bottom, only when Father wasn't at home. We had some good times."
"Sounds since."
"It was, unless Father was here. He was away so much."
"Visiting me!" came a scream from the top of the stairs. Martha descended several steps until we could see her. She looked furious, fuming like steam would come out of her ears. Juice was beside her, looking utterly terrified.
"And did he beat you and belittle you and shame you? Did he suck the joy from your life and think it fair to humiliate you in front of your entire family and everyone you had ever met in your life? Did he try to ruin your wedding to teach you a lesson?"
"No, he was always stern, but that was right, how fae are. He wanted me to grow up to be strong, not some pathetic weakling like you. You're a disgrace. You're full fae and you act like a pathetic human. I'm twice the fae you are. You took him from me."
"I didn't even know you existed," protested Sasha. "What was I meant to do, let him abuse me and ruin my life?"
"No, you were meant to do as your father told you. And besides, no matter what he did, and maybe he was mean-spirited, he loved us, loved me, and you destroyed it all. Mother was weak, she left me soon after too. I was alone, and I had nobody. Nobody. You ruined my life! But I showed you, I showed them all. I made something of myself, played with these weak humans and built something for my future, for my child's future. Oh, such a disappointment. Look what I have." Martha glared at Juice in disgust. "A weak, pathetic human child. He is not fae, he is a fool."
"Wow, bit bitter, are we?" I shouted. "Sasha was a victim, she had no choice. Nobody gets to decide your future, nobody has that right, not even a father."
"He had every right. He loved me. The only one who ever did. She destroyed everything."
Martha was screaming at the top of her lungs, totally losing the plot. "Look what I have. An idiot child who would kill me."
"You said you planted that seed, made him think it would be a good idea."
"But I didn't think he'd do it! He's weak, not worthy. But I have all the time in the world. I'll have more children, fae children, and I will return this place to its former glory, make it a home once more. I'm done with you all. You are holding me back, a sign of the weakness in our family. You must be destroyed."
"Mum?" said Juice quietly. "I'm sorry, okay? You said yourself you made me do it. I wasn't thinking right. It's me, your son."
Martha spun on Juice and backhanded him cross the face, just like Sasha's father did to her when she was caught singing in a field. But Juice was only a small part fae, and it wasn't exactly prominent, so the blow sent him flying. He staggered as he lost his footing, hit the banister, then flipped over the side.
Juice landed on the marble floor, his head split open. Blood and brain oozed from his skull.
"No coming back from this one, Juice," I said.
True Colors
"Stupid boy," said Martha as she stared at the broken corpse of her son. "If only you'd been more like my true love." Her face hardened at the mention of the Hangman and she turned away from her son in disgust, fixed her gaze on us instead. Gotta say, she was one intense lady.
"Look what you made me do," she snapped.
"Us? Are you out of your freaking mind? What did you going full-on psycho-bitch have to do with us?"
"I had hoped he would have grown into a true man after all this excitement. That he would have proved himself, shown he had some backbone. Unfortunately he didn't. He betrayed me, he had no willpower, and he was weak. A pathetic child."
"He was your son," said Sasha so quietly I wondered if Martha heard.
"So what?" she snapped.
"Your own flesh and blood. You gave birth to him. Do you know how precious a gift that is? No, don't answer, I don't think I could bear to hear your reply. You are my sister, and I would have forgiven you for all of this, but you go too far, sister. You are the one who has shown her true colors."
"Yes, sisters," spat Martha. "One weakling, feeling sorry for the dead child who was a feeble human with no spine, yet you thought nothing of killing your own father, destroying my life and yours. Look at you, prancing around in your sparkly dress, wiggling your hips and tempting the humans. You're pathetic."
"You're just jealous," I said. "Sasha is the most beautiful person I have ever met, inside and out. Sure, she has anger issues, but who doesn't? Difference between her and you is she cares. Plus, she's hot, and doesn't look like a prune steeped in vinegar for several millennia."
Wand wiggled in my pocket, craving attention, so I pulled him out. "What?"
"I was just gonna say, she's also got lovely tits."
I grinned at Wand's bluntness, and as I turned to Sasha my smile vanished as I saw her frown. Oh, bugger.
"Um, you wouldn't by any chance be able to hear what this very naughty stick says, would you?" I asked, dreading the answer but already knowing it.
"I would," said Sasha, glaring at me like it was my fault.
"Hey, don't blame me, blame him." I shook Wand like I could get the rudeness out.
"You can't blame me," protested Wand. "I'm a stick and I bet I'm totally under the thrall of Arthur. He made me say it. I wouldn't do anything to annoy a faery, not one as hot as you. Um, as divine and lovely as you, who I don't ever think about in a naughty sexy way and would never dream of imagining rubbing me all over your firm—"
"I think that's enough," I said, wondering how it was possible for a sentient stick to be this stupid.
"More than enough," said Sasha, giving Wand a vibe so intense I was surprised he hadn't burst into flames.
"Enough with this nonsense," ordered Martha, still at the top of the stairs.
"Don't shout at me. It wuz him wot dun it. Lock him up and throw away the key." I shook Wand in admonishment and he had the grace to look sorry.
"You're a fool." Martha locked her gaze on Sasha. "You surround yourself with imbeciles. You deserve to die, and I'm going to ensure you do."
"Don't think so," I said, trying to keep the smirk off my face. I said a silent, "Good job," to Wand and he had the sense to remain quiet.
Sasha nodded at me and with that I lifted Wand as fast as I could and the sigils burst into angry life, drawing my will and the power of Faery, a straight connection for him as this was where he came from, and the air whooshed from us in a rush. Wind howled up the stairs and slammed into Martha, pushing her back.
"You think a little breeze can hurt me? Haha, you are more inept than I thought."
I said nothing, just continued blasting, and as she was shunted backward she must have realized we'd been playing her. While she was distracted with our nonsense talk, Sasha had discreetly opened a Path behind Martha. Only one more step and she'd be through. I didn't want to think about what awaited her on the other side, but I knew it would be something suitably nightmarish.
Martha turned and saw the black hole that was her fate.
She panicked, tried to get away. She grabbed the banister and gripped until her hands were whiter than her bloodless lips, and dragged herself away. Wand surged with power, upping the ante, and the wind began to howl, magic pushing with all our combined might. Martha was losing her grip and then she'd be gone, and good riddance to her.
I gritted my teeth and continued with the outpouring of energy, but it was losing its power as my strength waned. Wand did all he could to keep it up, drawing on the essence of this place, but it wasn't working, not against someone who belonged. Just one more shove and it would all be over. I redoubled my efforts, was in sync with Wand, and together we summoned the power from somewhere. The air turned violent as wild eddies of air chewed at the steps and ripped chunks off.
Martha was holding on by her fingers now, her grip slipping. Her legs were blown out from under her, until her body was horizontal, her feet inches away from the portal that was sucking her into a terrible fate. And then it happened.
She lost her hold and headed straight for the Path. Good riddance.
A blur of movement shot out from the side and grabbed her body, moving it away from the Path, coming to a stop halfway down the stairs.
The Path snapped shut, too late. My magic died, Wand fell asleep instantly, and I stood there, gaping, as Carmichael, looking unruffled, placed Martha down gently on the stairs.
"Now the real battle begins," said Carmichael as he brushed lint from the shoulder of his expensive, very twat-like suit.
Some days I just can't catch a break.
Hardly a Surprise
"I was wondering when you'd turn up."
"Arthur, what's this all about?" asked Sasha.
"It's Carmichael, you know him."
"I do."
"He's in on this with Martha. She had a Teleron, and it's doubtful she got it anywhere else. I figured Carmichael had given her a helping hand. They obviously know each other. He's broken his word, his promise, his vow as a man of honor, but I gotta say, I didn't expect to see you here, Carmichael."
"My dear boy, needs must and all that." Carmichael gave Martha a stern look then turned his attention back to us. "I see Martha dear has been keeping you busy. But this isn't about fun and games, this should have been ended long ago."
"I'm more than capable of dealing with them," snapped Martha, glaring at us.
"Indeed? You seem to have done very poorly so far. You say you are capable, yet here they are. The man who stole from the warehouse, and the woman who protects him, keeps him safe. And the others? I presume they too are safe and well?"
"They tricked me. They killed my poor dear husband."
"Enough talk of that old fool. Martha, that was a different time and another life, you should leave the poor dead fellow in peace."
"He's at peace now. Or should I say, pieces?" I grinned at Martha then poked out my tongue, which seemed to wind her up for some reason.
She stepped forward to come marching down the stairs and have at The Hat but Carmichael put a hand to her shoulder and she stopped.
"Now, now, Martha, your volatile nature will get you into trouble. Let's not be hasty, okay?"
"Hell, what is with you guys? Let me ask you a question before we get into this."
"As you wish," said Carmichael, looking bored.
"Is it true you like to suck donkey di—"
"Arthur!" scalded Sasha.
"What? I was just going to ask if the rumors about him and donkeys were true. I mean, look at him. He looks like the kind of guy who loves getting on his knees and sucking—"
"Arthur, enough."
"Fine. Let me rephrase this. What happened to your honor? Back when we dealt with Mikalus, you gave me your word that things were cool between us. Bonding over the death of the First. I've been giving you back the artifacts I took, you get them every month, and we've stayed out of each other's way, so why now?"
"Because one of our own needed my help. And when I heard what that help was, well, I'd have been a fool to say no."
"One of your own?"
"Yes, Martha has been an invaluable asset over the years, haven't you, my dear?"
"Anything to stop the idiot humans abusing magic. They don't deserve such wondrous things. They disrupt the Nolands with their interfering."
"Exactly! how succinctly put. So, Arthur, as you see, a friend in need, and all that."
"You figured why not kill two birds with one stone. Let Martha here loose on us and she gets Sasha, you get me out of the picture at the same time?"
"Correct." Carmichael turned his head and saw Juice for the first time. His face darkened and he stared hard at me. I swear there was real emotion there, like this meant something to him. "You murdered the boy?" he asked, death in his eyes.
"Don't look at me. He's been tagging along with me for days. No, your friend Martha whacked him over, said he was a disappointment. Hey, Martha, if you're still in the mood for murdering why not give Carmichael the old heave-ho too?"
Martha just snarled.
Carmichael turned to her and asked, "Is this true?"
"So what if it is? He wasn't like us, was weak and easily led. A stupid child. There will be more."
"No, Martha, there will not. How could you kill your own son?"
"What business is it of yours all of a sudden?"
Carmichael stepped down to the same level as Martha and stared at her for the longest time. He didn't blink, he didn't move, he just stared. Eventually, Martha broke eye contact and muttered, "Maybe I shouldn't have."
"No, you shouldn't. You know you didn't have that right. I've kept you safe all these years, for centuries, ever since I became involved in Cerberus and the responsibility of looking after you was passed to me. We go back many years, you are one of our oldest Hounds. But this? You know you had no right. How dare you?"
"I'm sorry." Martha spoke so quietly it was little but a whisper. I got the feeling she wasn't used to apologizing.
Carmichael turned from her and leaned over the banister to stare at the broken body of Juice. His blood was dry, probably because of the wind. Gray brain poked out from the crack in his skull.
"Look at his body, Martha, look what you did." Martha kept her eyes downcast. "I said look!" Carmichael grabbed her viciously by the upper arms and pushed her to the edge of the stairs. Then, as she gasped, he grabbed her head and he angled it down so she was staring at Juice.
This was getting weird. I'd never seen him like this. He kept his cool even when the original vampire was rampaging about looking like a dinosaur and trying to eat him. He was a vampire, and very old, and adept with magic to boot. Nothing ever seemed to ruffle his foul feathers.
Carmichael gripped Martha tighter and tighter until she began to struggle to get out of his grasp. She clawed at his head, punched back behind, but Carmichael gripped hard and gritted his teeth. Martha screamed and pushed off from the handrail with all her strength as faery dust gathered, magic of her own to fend off the attack.
Carmichael faltered for an instant as he lost his footing a little, but rather than release her he gripped tighter as his foot slipped.
With his hands dug deep into her skull, Martha fell backward into him and he lost his balance. They tumbled down the stairs, Martha screaming. Faery dust billowed; Carmichael didn't make a sound.
Sasha and I jumped back as they came rolling down the stairs and stopped just in front of us. We didn't know what to do, what to make of this. Why was Carmichael so incensed? Did he have a thing about never hurting family? Doubtful, as he'd never had a problem involving mine, even though it was strictly against the Code. But then, it had never been done on purpose, not that that was an excuse, mind you.
Martha was on her back now, Carmichael straddling her. His hands dug deep into her face, as if searching for a reason inside her head. He shifted position as she tried to buck him off, forcing his weight down. She battered him with one hand, the other arm badly broken, the bone protruding just below the elbow. I felt no sympathy for her.
> "You killed him!" Carmichael squeezed tighter, then adjusted his hands and pressed his thumbs deep into Martha's eyes. She screamed, the sound echoing around the great castle as though to wake it from its ancient deep slumber.
As her eyeballs popped, Carmichael lifted her head from the floor then smacked it down repeatedly onto the cold marble. Her skull cracked on the second attempt, but he kept on going. He repeatedly slammed her head until the back was utterly caved in and brain and bone splinters stained the marble.
Sasha looked away, and in the end I did too, as he didn't stop, wouldn't stop, just kept crushing her head over and over again.
He began sobbing then, screaming too. Spittle flew from his mouth and blood trickled from his lips where his exposed fangs cut deep into uncaring flesh. His eyes were red, consumed not only by the bloodlust of the vampire, but with a deep aching sorrow for his loss.
On and on it went, a sickening display of sorrow manifest as the only revenge he could muster. Eventually, after many minutes, there was nothing left for him to grip on to.
He clawed at scraps of bone and flesh but it just came away in his hands, no longer connected to her body. Her head was nothing but bits of brain, splinters of bone, scraps of skin, and yet even then he wouldn't stop.
Carmichael pounded the flesh with his fists, battering it into pulp. Shards of bone punctured his hands, were shunted deep inside as he hammered away. When his hands were next to useless, so damaged were they, he fumbled about in her clothes then pulled out the Teleron, and I wondered if he could use it to jump from here. I didn't think it would work in Faery, but what did I know?
I was mistaken. He had no intention of leaving. Instead, he used it to batter her further. Over and over, lost to madness, he pulverized the bloody remains of her head like a pestle, until all that remained was jelly and tiny white bits. And then, when I thought he could do no more, he tore off her dress from the shoulder and sunk his teeth deep into her upper chest. The only sound was him taking his fill, the final ignominy, Martha not free even in death.