Arasinya leaned closer, her voice a low hiss against my ear. “And if you don't hear his ancestors?”
I shook my head. “I think I will. I don't believe the spirits would have suggested I come down and negotiate with him, if there wasn't a chance of bringing the Red Caps to our side.”
“I do not think it wise,” Arasinya repeated, but she released her grip on my arm, and I stepped back to where Dwarblrl'g waited, watching us curiously.
“May I touch you?” I repeated quietly.
“You no hurt Dwarblrl'g Whetstone?”
I shook my head, stifling a smile to think that this fearsome creature was worried about what I would do to him. “It won't hurt at all.”
“This is… Seelie Fae magic?” he asked curiously.
“No, this is very much angel magic.”
He hesitated for only a moment more, before he held out his hand and I gingerly took hold of his bloodstained fingers. The sensation of receiving his ancestors was more overwhelming than when I'd been given access to Keenan's, and I could almost hear the collective sharp intake of breath from the ramparts above when I touched him, but instantly, along with a pounding headache, I received access to Dwarblrl'g Whetstone's spiritual relatives.
≈†◊◊†◊◊†◊◊†≈
“I swear to God, if you'd taken another sixty seconds getting your ass in the gate, I was on my way out to drag you back myself.” Nick glowered as Arasinya and I stepped in through the gates and they sealed behind us. “What the hell were you thinking? Do you know how crazy that was, to let that little shit touch you the way you did? He could have ripped your heart out with those claws!”
“But he didn't,” I said, giving Nick's arm a gentle squeeze. Like everyone else, Nick was nearing the edge of his tolerance, stress pushing everyone to their limits. Some of Nick's pack were involved in the forays into the Realm, and he was deeply worried about their safety.
“I would have been about ten seconds behind him,” Conal admitted, wrapping me in a tight embrace. “What the hell took so long?”
I smiled at Arasinya, who was receiving a relieved hug of her own from Goren, and she nodded imperceptibly. “The first hour or more was spent getting Dwarblrl'g to speak to Arasinya and negotiating with him to translate the message. Arasinya had to agree to pay compensation for the Ju'Dng stones already taken.” I explained Nememiah's message, how it offered the Red Caps the right to govern themselves, if they joined us to fight the Drâghici and Aethelwine's Fae. “Arasinya had to negotiate further compensation for any stones they mined for the Seelie Fae in the future.”
“That's a great risk,” Goren pointed out. “Any compensation is dependent on Arasinya being returned to the throne.”
“If I cannot reclaim the throne, it will all be a moot point,” Arasinya countered.
“Why the decision to shake his hand?” Conal questioned.
“I wanted to check if I heard his ancestors, see if I could trust him.”
“And?” Epi questioned.
I nodded. “Added another forty or fifty more spirits, at a guess. They're a bit wild, but if I can hear them…”
“It means Dwarblrl'g has no ill intentions towards you.” Epi shook his head, beady eyes watching me curiously from behind his thick glasses. “Another example of the Angel blood drawing people to your cause, making them desire helping you. I'm truly amazed it would work on a Red Cap.”
“I figured it might, given the spirits didn't get all panicky about Dwarblrl'g arriving,” I admitted.
“I believe this ability to absorb the Fae spirits must be an unexpected side-effect of the Fae magic Bran used. While it was initially debilitating, it has proven of significant benefit.”
“Of course, the downside was she had to deal with being kept captive for months on end,” Conal growled.
“So, what happens now?” Ben questioned, placing a supportive hand on Conal's shoulder.
I frowned, rubbing at my temples. “That's the tricky part. He insisted on returning to the Realm alone, and he'll approach the Red Cap King with our offer. With any luck,” I smiled when Rowena handed me a bottle of water and some Tylenol, “he'll be back in a few days with their response.”
“Or the other Red Caps will tear his head off for approaching us in the first place,” Gilborg suggested darkly. He turned to Arasinya. “It would have been wise to send a Fae envoy, approach the Red Cap King to negotiate terms, my Queen.”
Arasinya shook her head. “In that regard, Dwarblrl'g Whetstone would not negotiate. He insisted he must approach his King alone, and would not consider taking Seelie Fae with him.”
Goren rubbed his fingers through his small goatee, and I smiled when Arasinya reached up, tugging gently at the beaded braids. He smiled down at her, seeming to come to some conclusion. “I believe Arasinya is right. We have done all we can in this regard. There is nothing to do but wait.”
≈†◊◊†◊◊†◊◊†≈
“Quite the multicultural group we've got going here,” Conal remarked the following afternoon, when we returned from training. He was eyeing the gnomes, who trained alongside a few of the elves, exchanging knowledge and expertise. Short and sturdy, the gnomes were friendly, but we'd rapidly discovered they were full of mischief. Keenan considered them an asset to the group, and their ability with the stock axes they carried in sheaths on their backs was quite remarkable. I watched as one dark-skinned goblin threw an axe, the weapon spinning swiftly through the air before it hit the center of the target with a resounding thwack. At the other side of the grassed area, two trolls were deep in a discussion with a couple of the fairies, their huge wooden clubs discarded on the ground beside them. They were, quite honestly, the ugliest creatures I'd ever come across, and Keenan was right – they did smell – but I noticed the Fairies had positioned themselves downwind, and were involved in the animated conversation.
“Certainly more multicultural than I'm used to,” Matt grinned, the corners of his eyes creased with amusement. “Quite Tolkienesque, in fact.”
I stared at Matt. “You've read Tolkien?” It didn't seem like my father's thing.
Matt laughed, the sound garnering the attention of a group of children, who stared in surprise. “Nope, never read.” He winked. “But I saw the movies.” He glanced at his watch. “I'm off to the armory, Epi's got another batch of the angel composite ready, we're going to prep more weapons.” He leaned down to press a kiss to my cheek. “See you later, baby.”
“I wouldn't have believed Matt could integrate himself into this world so completely,” I commented, tucking my arm through Conal's. I reached up, brushing an errant snowflake from Patrick's heavy blanket – he'd slept through the training session, but would no doubt be awake soon, and ready to eat. Conal was carrying him as we walked through the city, a daily habit to ensure everything was running smoothly.
“We're lucky to have him. The angel composite that he figured out with Clint was pure genius,” Conal responded.
On reaching the cottage, I said goodbye to Nissa and ran upstairs to snatch a quick shower, conscious of Patrick beginning to stir downstairs. Twenty-four hours after Dwarblrl'g departure, we hadn't heard anything, although I frequently reminded myself it would probably take time. The problem was, we didn't have any time to spare. Dwarblrl'g had little understanding of our concept of time; the Red Caps kept their own counsel and didn't seem to grasp the concept of days, hours, or minutes. Dwarblrl'g had told us we would hear 'soonest without delaying' and that was all we'd managed to get from the little creature before he'd departed. With each passing hour, I grew increasingly fatalistic – even if he had approached the King of the Red Caps, there was no guarantee of help. Although the thought of managing their own lands and people would be tempting, there was a mountain of mistrust between the Red Caps and the rest of the Realm and I wasn't sure Dwarblrl'g had the power, or the acumen, to bring about agreement. We had no idea of his position in the Red Cap world. If he was merely a denizen, with no standing or sway in
his community, I suspected we were doomed.
Marianne was sitting in the living room when I came downstairs and I cast a cursory glance over her denims and the emerald green sweater she wore, unusually sedate clothing for my vampire friend. “Hi, what are you doing here?”
Patrick was grumbling and Conal handed him over, slipping into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle. Pressing a kiss to my forehead, Conal headed upstairs and I lost myself for a moment in gawking after him, watching the muscle flexing in his legs and backside as he took the steps two at a time.
When I turned back to Marianne, she was watching me with unconcealed amusement and I rolled my eyes. “What are you doing here?” I repeated, having missed any answer she'd given me in the first place.
She shrugged. “Striker is up on the ramparts, he needed some time to himself, and I was at a loose end. So I thought I'd pop in here and see my favorite little man.”
I fake pouted when I settled on the couch and offered Patrick the bottle. He sucked strongly, his beautiful green eyes staring at me solemnly. “What about me? Don't I count anymore?”
She laughed. “Of course you do; but who could resist this little heartbreaker?” She brushed a fingertip across Patrick's hand and he immediately clutched her finger in a chubby fist, eliciting a new round of coos and soppy grins from Marianne.
“For a big tough vampire, you really are a sucker for a baby, you know,” I pointed out. “How is Striker?”
Marianne shrugged, and worry crossed her sea green eyes. “It's tough, you know? They'd been siblings for a very long time, far longer than most humans. To lose his twin… it's difficult for anyone, I imagine, but even harder for Striker. I think he'll be okay eventually, but he's… sad.” She lifted her gaze from Patrick and offered me a faint smile. “Of course, it's a downside to being a vampire – Striker would benefit from anti-depressants, but they won't make the slightest bit of difference because we can't metabolize drugs.”
“At least he managed to rid the world of Qadesh,” I muttered.
“And it is a better place because of it,” Marianne agreed. She hiked one long elegant leg underneath her bottom and eyed Patrick wistfully. “Can I have a cuddle, when he's finished?”
“Of course.”
Marianne grinned, instantly brightening at the prospect. All the Tines were besotted, and in the brief moments when I thought about anything other than the perilous situation we faced, I suspected Patrick would become terribly spoilt if the vampires had their way. “I have some gossip for you,” she announced.
“What sort of gossip?” Stories made their way around the city every day, but Marianne seemed to have her finger on the pulse of the best gossip – in fact, she was incorrigible – but I had to admit I enjoyed hearing the stories she came across each day.
“It concerns a certain lovely Fae warrior we know – one with a superb set of garnet-colored eyes.”
I lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “Nissa?”
Marianne nodded, bobbing her head up and down enthusiastically. “I've heard, from sources which must remain completely anonymous, that a certain lovely Fae warrior whom we both know—”
I laughed. “I think we've already established that it's Nissa!”
Marianne sniffed in disgust. “Things are monotonous enough around here, surely you'll permit a little joie de vivre with my gossip.”
My brow wrinkled, my eyebrows lifting in surprise. “You think things are monotonous?”
She nodded. “Vampires are creatures of action. And even if I wasn't vampire, I'd still be itching for some action. This hanging around and waiting, all it seems to do is increase everyone's anxiety levels. Believe me, it would be much better if something did happen, if we had to do something – anything other than sit around waiting for the Fae and Drâghici to make their next move.”
I heard a knock at the door and Marianne jumped up to answer it, leaving me to ponder her comments. Was she right? Would it be better to be tossed into a fight rather than waiting around, worrying over what would happen next?
Gabrielle appeared in the doorway with Marianne and she settled gracefully on the couch. Mimicking Marianne's actions, her expression morphed into delight when she saw Patrick, and she brushed her fingers across her lips before pressing them to Patrick's cheek. “He gets more handsome every day,” she announced.
My chest swelled with pride. I was inordinately proud of my little boy, who seemed to grow in leaps and bounds, and was quite possibly (in my humble opinion) the calmest, best behaved baby on the planet. “How are things with the witches?” I asked.
“All is well; we've worked a new assortment of enchantments over the city, ones we hope will keep Bran's dark magic from having such a devastating effect on the walls.”
“Sounds good,” Conal said as he strode down the stairs, dressed in clean black jeans and a soft blue sweater. He cast his gaze across Marianne and Gabrielle, offering me a wry grin. “Looks like a girls' night in,” he suggested. “Which is my cue to leave.”
Gabrielle got to her feet swiftly. Everyone knew how much Conal and I relished our time together, limited as it was, and she apologized. “I'm sorry, Conal, I'll leave you in peace…”
He waved her off. “No, stay here. It does Charlotte good to have friends to talk to, and,” he glanced at his watch, “I've still got to catch up with a couple of people about training tomorrow.”
He leaned over the back of the couch to press a soft kiss to my cheek. “Be back in about an hour, Sugar. You want something to eat? I can bring food back.”
In response to his words, my stomach grumbled alarmingly and Conal chuckled. “You never fail. I can guarantee if I mention food, your tummy'll start to rumble.” He brushed his lips over mine before he straightened up. “I heard Nonny mention something about paella – you want me to bring you a plate?”
I nodded, blushing as my stomach growled alarmingly again. “That'll be great, thanks. I'll see you soon.”
Conal eyed me. “Have you got Phelan and Keenan on the ground?”
With the briefest of thoughts, I did as he asked, and Phelan and Keenan settled down at the little dining table to begin their security detail. “Done.”
Mimicking Gabrielle's actions, he kissed his fingertips and pressed them to Paddy's cheek. “G'night, little buddy,” he murmured before he slipped out into the darkness.
Marianne settled into the single armchair and eyed me curiously. “How are you progressing with adding the Fae spirits?”
Taking the bottle from Patrick's mouth, I lifted him on to my shoulder to burp. “Good. I seem to add more of them in a shorter timeframe, with each passing day.” I grimaced when Patrick burped, leaving a milky puddle on my sweater and Marianne chuckled, handing me a cloth to wipe at the mark. “Epi still believes it's the Fae magic at work.”
“You've certainly progressed, in leaps and bounds,” Gabby pointed out. “There was a time when we didn't think you'd be able to handle any Fae spirits.”
I frowned, adjusting Patrick's position in my lap. “It's about the only good thing to come out of that nightmare.”
Marianne quickly changed the subject. “Sooooo, about that gossip I mentioned.”
Gabby clapped her hands. “I do love a good piece of gossip,” she announced. “And you're a wonder at digging up new snippets.”
Marianne leaned forward in a mock semi-bow. “I do my best.”
“Perhaps you're right, Marianne,” I pointed out thoughtfully. “Maybe things are too monotonous, if we're reduced to discussing gossip.”
“You'll love this piece of news,” Marianne announced triumphantly. “Nissa is seeing Rafe from the Lingard Pack.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “No.”
Marianne grinned, wrapping her hands around her knees. “Yes.”
“When does she have time to see Rafe?” I argued. “She seems to be perpetually at my side.”
Gabby laughed, making a display of surveying the little living area. “She isn't here now.”
&n
bsp; “Well no,” I began doubtfully. I loved the prospect of Nissa finding someone to spend time with, but I honestly couldn't figure out when she was finding the time. Although as Gabby pointed out, the evenings were often free for Nissa when I was with Conal, so perhaps… A broad smile stretched my lips wide at the prospect. “Rafe and Nissa, huh?”
Marianne positively beamed. “Yep, and I'll tell you something else I heard today…”
Chapter 39: Attack
Marianne's comment regarding monotony turned around to bite us on the ass later that night, when the alarms sounded. The sound of earth shifting, and demons screaming resonated throughout the city, dragging people from their sleep. The skies around the city were lit by a bright white glow as I hurried up to the ramparts with Conal, allowing a clear view of what was happening on the plains outside. Down below, battalions of Fae warriors were appearing through rifts, lining up and marching in formation with weapons at the ready, standing in symmetrical lines. The earth was shifting everywhere I looked, churning as demons appeared, shaking soil from their bodies before they lumbered towards the gates. Portals had opened on the periphery, dozens of them, and vampire younglings poured from each one, laughing, jeering, screeching, and wailing.
I looked up into Conal's eyes, caught the worry in his. My own terror had been diluted somewhat, but the fearless signal Conal had marked on my skin the moment we woke and scrambled to get dressed was only holding the terror at bay, not squelching it completely. “What are we going to do?”
“See what they make of the new sigils,” he responded, his expression grim. “We don't go out there – not if we can avoid it.”
A portal opened near the front of the assembled enemy, and the Drâghici stepped from it. It was the first time I'd known of them visiting the city – until now they'd left the dirty work to Archangelo and Bran. What did their presence mean? It could only be a portent of doom, and I shivered as they strolled towards the gates.
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