[Through Time 02.0] Whiplash

by Claudy Conn

  Flanking Pestale on each side were his two brothers, their heads lowered as they murmured the same command as a backup chorus. All stood naked as the essence of their magic worked itself into a breathing, living thing. That living magic left their bodies in a stream of dark mist, and deafening thunder cracked overhead.

  As Jazz and Trevor watched, the sparkling black threads of evil magic burst into flame. The Dark Princes were trying to override the white magic on the other side, but their combined effort was fruitless. Trevor saw this at once. Why put so much energy into something destined to lose?

  Pestale howled. They could see from the expressions that ravaged his face that he was beyond distressed.

  “I will get through, Seelie … I will get through … Do not think I cannot break through,” he told the Royals he obviously knew were on the other side. He turned to his brothers, and then they heard his growl.

  Trevor and Jazz stood and knew Pestale had seen them.

  Without a word, the Dark Royals shifted.

  * * *

  Even as they vanished, Jazz felt the change in the atmosphere. It was as though something in her mind had taken over and allowed her to assimilate minute changes beyond her immediate perception.

  She smiled to herself and shifted as well. She wanted to counter any attack they might have in mind. She managed to put herself thirty feet away from Trevor.

  All she knew was that she didn’t want Trevor in danger. Three Dark Princes were enough to handle, without her being a liability and a distraction.

  She knew he would risk all to save her. She had to be smart and prevent that; she had to be one step ahead. What she had, the only things she had, were human ingenuity and surprise—they had no idea what she was now.

  The hilt of Trevor’s Death Sword was in his fist, but Hordly pushed forward at him regardless. They came to stand for a moment, face to face.

  Hordly, still naked, grinned wickedly and turned towards Jazz to point his hard shaft at her. He stroked it, saying, “You aren’t made to fight us, woman. This … this is what you were made for—play and pleasure. Come, beauty, let me show you, while my brother attends to the Seelie.”

  She snorted. “Put that little thing away—it does you no credit.”

  Jazz saw that she had landed a solid hit to his ego. His face darkened with his anger, but Pestale and his other brother laughed at Hordly.

  Pestale, now clothed, flicked his wrist. All three were clothed in what could have passed for a motorcycle gang’s black leather uniform. They wore heavily zippered black leather jackets over their tattooed bare chests, tight-fitting black leather pants, and silver-tipped boots.

  Pestale waved a hand over his clothing and said, “I saw this in one of your movies while I enjoyed myself in the Human Realm. Do you like it, pretty woman?”

  “You look, all three of you …” Jazz said in a sexy voice. “Like. You. Are. About. To go down.”

  Pestale laughed and raised his hand to stop Hordly, who had taken a threatening step her way.

  Jazz noted that the other one, the middle brother, whom she had heard Hordly call Graely, had stayed back and was quiet, watchful. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, and she was struck by something she couldn’t name. She didn’t have the time to contemplate it and shoved it to a back burner.

  She saw Trevor had shifted up close and oh so personal to them. He swung his Death Sword in a slashing motion through the air. His voice was hard and purposeful. “Which one wants to meet eternal nothingness first?” he growled at them and swelled with confidence. She felt a wave of pride. Three stood against him, and he did not balk.

  Pestale frowned darkly at him. “You do recall that your queen does not wish you to kill us.”

  “Yes, I know, but I wish to. Always have.”

  “Yes, but you should worry about the human at your back.” He clucked his tongue. “Are you still pining over the lovely Milesian, Lana?” Pestale taunted him. He then looked at Jazz. “Has he told you about her yet? She killed our youngest brother when we stormed Dublin, not so very long ago.” He shrugged. “What I did next was what you humans call payback. I took my payback and killed her. Your Seelie lover was distraught over the business. Who could blame him? She was devastatingly beautiful.” Pestale had been watching Jazz and added suddenly, “Ah, I see it is as I thought. He has not told you how much he loved her and vowed vengeance for his loss. Why is that, do you think?”

  Trevor growled at him and jabbed with his sword. Pestale laughed, and then he and Hordly shifted away. The middle brother lingered a moment and then shifted off as well.

  * * *

  They had been gone only seconds, and during that time Trevor sent his sword with the Orb once again into concealment. He then turned to Jazz, saw her face, and cursed softly, for he could see Pestale had gotten to her. He stomped over to her, took her shoulders in his hands, and looked intently into her eyes. “My Jazmine Decker, do not allow him to get to you,” he pleaded.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  “I have told you. There is nothing more to tell. Yes, Lana and I were just beginning … we never got past that first look, that first kiss, and, yes, I loved her, but it was different than—” He touched her face and then shook his head. “—different than you and me. It was real, and I won’t make little of it by denying that what I felt for her was enormous, yes, but it was my first real attachment. Lana and I had just begun …” He sighed heavily. “I believe in facts. My queen believes in the fates. Here are both for you to consider. The fact is, I lost her early on in our beginning, and perhaps the fates have always intended to bring you to me. Are you listening to me, Jazmine Decker—are you listening?”

  “Yes.” She rubbed her face against his naked chest and then looked up at him. “Trev, don’t misunderstand me. I am not jealous—well, maybe a little,” she admitted with a smile. “I just wanted to know everything, so that when a monster tries to cause trouble, I know just how to respond.” She kissed his chest all over.

  He took her head in his hands and kissed her lips, and then without another word, and kissing her still, returned them to their bedroom in the Retreat.

  With her curled up in his arms on the bed, he told her about their last days fighting Gaiscioch and Pestale—how it had all come about and why. He told her about the first time he saw Lana and how he had felt. He told her how she had saved his life by taking the fourth, and youngest, Dark Prince by surprise and killing him with her Death Sword, and how he had felt having to watch Pestale kill her—because of him.

  “I was helpless … Jazmine Decker. She saved my life, and I could not save hers. Her brother, Chancemont, and I formed a union to track Pestale and kill him. Princess Royce joined us at the queen’s command. We did track him. He was ours to destroy, but the queen intervened, saying the Dark King wanted to take him home and make him drink from the Cauldron and start anew.”

  Jazz frowned. “She had no choice, Trevor—she had to avert a battle with the Dark King.”

  “I agree, but it was a difficult time for me, and in the end, look what it has wrought, and where is he, this Dark King who has thrust his son upon the universe?”

  “It sucks,” Jazmine pronounced.

  Trevor regarded her for a serious moment and then let loose with uncontrollable mirth. “It sucks,” he repeated and began laughing again.

  She hugged him fiercely then and said, “Trev—something is wrong.”

  He forced his laughter to die down and took her chin. “Yes, we should be lying on a bed of green grass in Tir—”

  “Trev, listen to me. I know it is only human instinct, but something in my gut tells me those brothers were putting on a show for us. Like us, distracting them while the other Royals work to close the gaps on the other side, the Dark Ones are trying to distract us from the real door they are opening through the Prison Wall.” She put a fist to her stomach. “I feel it … here …”

  “You feel it, but that doesn’t make it so.” He frowned.

&nbs
p; “Well, then logically, Fae logic, think about it. What the heck were they doing? Standing there naked, chanting just one word—open? You don’t really believe it would have stayed open long enough for them to get through? And where was their army?” She shook her head. “I don’t think they mean to go through without backup. This time, when Pestale goes marching into our worlds, I think he will have his two brothers and Queen Morrigu at his side, yes, but he will need that army at his back. And they will be dressed for battle, with whatever weapons they have accumulated at their disposal. Think about it—he can’t cover the globe unless he has numbers. Trev, he has to have his dark monsters come through with him … he has to, because he damn well won’t risk coming back for them.”

  He considered her, and then dawning lit over his face. “Your human gut is very wise.” He began pacing. “Right, then, where would he be working on this portal, for, my sweet Fios, it will have to be enormous and bursting with living power.”

  “I’m guessing it has to be somewhere we wouldn’t think to look. Somewhere he could line up his army and have them available for the trip. Somewhere, hmm, somewhere where he is in control of his surroundings.”

  “Queen Morrigu’s castle then—it would have to be at the castle. But there isn’t enough room there for the—”

  “Yes, there might be. Do you know how cavernous the dungeon part of his castle might be? He might have a tunnel that could extend for a mile for all we know. He is a Dark Prince—he can create with the flick of his wrist, and he isn’t Hordly. Everything he does, he does with forethought and purpose.” She got onto her knees on the bed and held his hands as she continued, “Think about it. A tunnel for his monsters to line up in while he opens the real portal to the Human Realm. Wouldn’t that be convenient? And convenient is what I think Pestale will go for. Trev, you can’t underestimate him. He isn’t a raging bull like Hordly. There is more to him. He arranges his plans with a certain flair—I feel that in my gut. I can see that although he is reserved enough to control himself to achieve what he wants, he is ruthless.”

  She put a finger to her lips and tapped. “Yup, I think that is what he has been building, a portal underground that will lead him to the human world and then to yours once he and his army are out of here.”

  ~ Seventeen ~

  QUEEN AAIBHE STOOD on her balcony and looked over the courtyard. It was a distance, quite a distance from her private quarters, but she was Daoine, the highest of the Seelie caste, and able to turn up her Fae hearing volume even more than most and at will.

  Some of her favorite acquaintances and friends were in a heated debate. She was thankful that none seemed to think she should be deposed. None seemed to think it was even their legal right to do so; no, that was not at the meat of their arguments with one another.

  And their arguments divided them, females against males.

  Female Fae reveled in the notion she had at last found someone she could love. Male Fae were outraged it wasn’t one of them but a Milesian.

  Their arguments had escalated, and sides were being taken.

  Aaibhe felt the pain of this.

  Peace amongst themselves was what they had enjoyed until she had fallen in love with Morgan LeBlanc. If she gave him up, peace would be restored. She had no choice.

  She turned to him and felt as though her life would soon be over. She was reducing her eternity to a form of robotic duty—nothing more.

  “Morgan, you know of course … it must end for us.”

  “I know nothing of the kind. I mean to take you away—to Milesian if you will allow. You don’t need to bring harmony and peace to subjects who deny you personal happiness.”

  “They need me,” she said softly and touched his cheek.

  He took her hand and feverishly kissed her fingers. “I need you more. Tell me, Aaibhe—tell me you don’t want to live without me, for I shan’t live without you. I would give up my kingdom for you. Tell me you will do the same.”

  She was Queen of the Seelie Fae, and they were in dire circumstances. She knew Pestale would find a way to break through and that the Dark King wasn’t even near enough to know or care. She knew that Banzar did not have it in him to lead. He was too self-centered to put his people first.

  Morgan stepped away and planted his fist into his open palm. “Tell me, Aaibhe, that you and I matter enough to fight for!”

  Aaibhe saw it all so clearly, and he was correct. Their union was her right. Her Fae subjects were asking too much, but could she win this battle and keep them safe? Even if she won the political battle, would they be able to defeat the Dark Ones?

  “I do, Morgan, I do love you, beyond what is seemly. And, yes, I think our union will be good for both our worlds … so, yes, I will fight for the right to be with you.”

  A knock sounded, and Aaibhe smiled warmly as she said, “Come in, Frankie.”

  Frankie had just come from training with Nuad, the queen’s Chief Tracker. She skipped into the room and curtsied to Morgan. She then took the queen’s hand to drop a light kiss and said, “My Queen?”

  “Yes, sweetheart?” Aaibhe already adored the child, but she knew what was coming. Had known it was coming; after all, Frankie, though quiet, had begun to open up. She knew that, sooner or later, Frankie would need to know the truth.

  “I have a question, my Queen.” She regarded her sandals, and then she lifted her eyes to the queen’s face and took a long breath. “I know Miss Jazz would have told me if she knew, but I be thinking she didn’t.”

  “If she knew?” Aaibhe probed gently.

  “Aye, the longer I am here … amongst ye, well, it isn’t something that will go away, so I trust ye to tell me the truth of it,” Frankie said, sounding years older than she was.

  “You are quite correct. You may trust me,” the queen said softly.

  Frankie rolled back the sleeve of her closely fitted green exercise top and displayed bruises, faded bruises. She regarded the queen solemnly and said, “I go all black and blue trying something Nuad says I wasn’t ready for. When the bruise first comes on, it is dark and purple and hurts—it has always been so.”

  “And soon afterwards it fades and does not hurt so very much,” the queen said with a gentle and encouraging smile.

  “Aye, exactly, my Queen. A human, even a Fios human, couldn’t heal so fast, could she?”

  “No, a Fios is not immortal and cannot heal herself,” the queen answered and waited.

  “After m’mum died and I was bought by the farmer Higgens, he would hit me in the face, and then hours later the bruise and the pain were gone. It made him mad.”

  “You don’t have to think about him any longer.” The queen put her arm around Frankie and hugged her close.

  “No, I don’t suppose I do, but, m’Queen, why do I heal so fast? I used to think it was because I was a Fios, but Nuad, like you, says no. He also said Fios are mortal and can’t heal themselves.”

  “I suppose it is time to give you the truth.” Aaibhe sighed and said, “I am not certain you are ready for it, though. You are still too young to understand affairs of the heart.” Aaibhe got up and paced.

  Frankie watched her with solemnity, her eyes wide, her thoughts clicking the queen’s words into place. Aaibhe saw this at once and immediately returned to sit with her. She cast a quick glance at Morgan, who gave her an encouraging smile. He made her feel whole. He banished the doubts—every single doubt.

  “Shall I leave you two to talk?” Morgan suggested.

  Frankie reached out her hand, and he walked over and gave it a squeeze as she said, “No … don’t go.” She turned back to the queen. “I am that ready, I am, to hear whatever it is you are going to tell me.”

  Aaibhe took Frankie’s chin and asked, “How much do you remember about your father?”

  She shrugged. “He was good and kind and … why?”

  “Did your mother ever speak of anyone else?”

  “No.” Then Frankie eyed her strangely and said, “Once I saw something—
someone—he was half-hidden from view, and it bothered me, for m’mum seemed … well, he seemed important to her.” She drew in air and said, “I saw her in the barn. She was talking with a Fae … there was no mistake about it. He was a Fae—not a Royal, but he was a Seelie Fae. I was angry with her, because she was breaking her own rule. She said never to look at them, and there she was with one—holding his hand like they were friends. I heard her tell him to please leave me be.”

  “I see, Frankie,” the queen said and then slowly added, “I am going to shock you now, my dear one.” She paused then once again asked, “Are you sure you are ready for this?”

  “I don’t know what it is ye be about to tell me, my Queen, but I do think truth is always the right way.” She shook her head. “Ye see me as young, and mayhap I be young in years, but … I’m not blind.”

  “Young people today know a great deal in the human world, but not in the time you lived,” the queen said, still uncertain how to proceed.

  “I know.” She smiled brightly. “Nuad showed me American TV, and that was quite fun, but I saw that everyone is very different in manners and behavior to m’own time. I do like the way they dress—so free.”

  Aaibhe hugged her and then lifted her chin. “Well, then, where do I start?”

  “I don’t need the talk about the birds and bees as m’mum used to call it. I lived on a farm.”

  Aaibhe laughed. “So you did.”

  “That Fae I saw her with … it has something to do with him, doesn’t it?”

  Aaibhe paused and said gently, “Yes, it does, because your mother knew him before she met and married your father.”

  Frankie digested this. “So they were old friends, m’mum and this Fae? She warned me off the Fae … and yet, she was friends with one?”

  “These things occur,” said the queen softly.

  Frankie giggled. “Aye, they do—look at me, a Fios in Faery!”

  The queen smiled. “You are now eleven years old … so young to have to deal with this.” She looked at Morgan, whose look of love stroked and encouraged her forward.