“Yeah. Fetch looks to be doing better, so I can’t fault him on leaving.”
Stepping up next to me, she eyed Fetch. “So, what now?”
“Now, we both get some rest. As soon as I can, though, I need to make a stop at the house.”
“God, that’s right! We never really got around to it!”
“You take the bed. Tomorrow, we’ll go to your apartment first, then, assuming nothing happens in the meantime, head to the house from there.”
“All right.” She paused. “Are you certain you don’t want to use the bed? You know if you want to, I’ll certainly be agreeable to it.”
I answered by dropping into the chair closest to Fetch.
“I’ll take that as a ‘no, I don’t.’” Claryce turned away. Just before she shut the door, she added, “Pity.”
By the time I figured out what she meant, it was far too late to do anything that wouldn’t have been very awkward and likely embarrassing . . . at least for me.
The dragon’s sniggering certainly didn’t make things any better
I woke to Fetch’s howl. Hell, the dead would’ve woken to Fetch’s howl.
Claryce burst out of the bedroom brandishing her revolver. The Smith & Wesson wasn’t the only thing she was brandishing, either. Her slip wasn’t covering up very much.
Fetch stared wide-eyed from me to Claryce and back again. His ears flattened, and he looked as if he wanted to bury himself in the corner of the couch.
“Master Nicholas! Mistress Claryce! Ye must be forgiving me for either. my cry! I dreamed someone stuck a shiv in my belly and then sliced me to my throat! I’d never be dreaming of interrupting the two of ye—”
“You’re fine, Fetch,” I interrupted. “At least, now you are. Gale-rius had you done over badly, but Kravayik healed the damage.”
If anything, his ears flattened more. “Kravayik? He healed me? But he’s sworn off that life!”
“He just did enough to help you.”
“Better to have left me, Master! He’s done himself no good helping the likes of me. Now, she’ll sense it back in him!”
I sat up. “Who and what?”
Fetch cocked his head. “Why, herself! Do ye not know she can now try to reach out from Feirie and touch his thoughts? Think what a triumph for her to bring him back into her Court!”
Claryce lowered the revolver. “That doesn’t sound good, Nick.”
“No, and it would’ve been nice of Kravayik to mention that outright.”
“Kravayik’s the cat’s meow, Master Nicholas! Once ye mentioned me, I doubt he could really refuse. Maybe weakly, so the refusal’s easy to overcome, but that’s it.”
I rubbed my jaw as I considered the fact that he still had access to the one Clothos card with which I was familiar. “We’ll just have to keep an eye on him, I guess.”
“Aye.”
Shoving aside that new concern, I said. “He also told me about the two of you and the Wyld.”
Fetch’s tail sagged. “I’ve been careful, just as promised! I wouldn’t betray ye, Master Nicholas! Not me! I’m a straight shooter, Scout’s honor!”
“What’re you doing?”
“Just finding refuge for the weak, innocent ones—”
I managed to arch an eyebrow. “Innocent Wyld? That’s a contradiction.”
“’Tis as I told ye once before, these are creatures of little power and no risk to humans. Surely Kravayik said the same.”
“Never mind what Kravayik said and what you said earlier. Besides that, I never figured you and Kravayik would work together on anything.”
Fetch looked more and more like a dog who’d just been discovered having run across the carpet with muddy paws. “Aye, we’ve not been close, but I found one little one I couldn’t figure out what to do with and finally trotted over to the cathedral. Whined and howled until Kravayik came out to see. Couldn’t speak a word to him, but showed him my problem. He understood.”
I’d wondered about how they’d communicated, considering the only way Fetch could speak in the mortal plane was if he was near me. Still, a lack of voice didn’t mean a lack of ingenuity, apparently. “Let me guess . . . and then you abused his generosity and brought him another and then another and so on.”
“Actually, he told me to do so. I think . . . I think Kravayik said once he saw it as being what he was called to do now because of his strong faith. Wanted to keep the soul he’d gained, maybe.” Fetch shook his head. “And now, because of me, he might lose all that.”
“Is he really that much at risk?” Claryce questioned.
“With herself involved? Aye.”
“Well, we’ll just have to see he stays okay,” I insisted. “For the moment, though, we need to head over to Old Town.”
“I guess I’d better get dressed.” Claryce reached the doorway to the bedroom, then paused there . . . which I have to admit I appreciated. “Can we stop at my apartment for a minute before we head to the house?”
“Sure, but we’re not going to go directly to the house when we get to Old Town.” I reached over to the table and retrieved Kravayik’s coffee. Cold as it was, it still hit the spot at the moment. “I need to stop at St. Michael’s.”
She gave me a quizzical look. “To talk with Diocles? We can stop at another church on the way, if that’s more convenient.”
“Oh, I want to talk with Diocles, no doubt about it, but I need to go specifically to St. Michael’s. I need to talk with Father Jonathan . . .”
CHAPTER 17
I’d made use of Old Town as my base of operations for years. I’d purchased an innocent-looking Queen Anne—style house in a very normal neighborhood and then promptly made certain that the dragon’s power enveloped the area in something akin to a forgetting spell. The neighbors knew someone lived in my house, but really never cared to find out who. It’d worked out just fine for nearly three decades.
Of late, though, I’d come to wonder if it was really safe to go back. What the neighbors didn’t remember was that the house had been thoroughly destroyed by Oberon’s minions. The building now standing there had been raised up by Her Lady’s efforts. It’d been no small feat on her part, considering she’d done it from Feirie, and I knew it’d cost her plenty. It’d been done in part because she’d been doing her best to keep me working against Oberon.
Everything had been reconstructed down to the letter. I didn’t take any comfort in the fact that she’d obviously gathered the burnt remains and in many cases “refreshed” them. There was the taint of Feirie on everything.
But I had to make use of the house.
Fortunately, there was still St. Michael’s first. Generally, I parked close by, but not at the church itself. I never liked to draw such immediate attention to any place I frequented. That tended to eventually get them destroyed. This time, though, I parked as close as I could get without actually being on hallowed ground.
Neither Claryce nor I were too keen on leaving Fetch by himself, but he insisted on pressing both of us to go inside.
“All’s copacetic, Master Nicholas! Any palooka comes around, he’ll get what he deserves, ab-so-lute-ly!”
“If you’re starting up on all the slang again, then you must be fully recovered,” I remarked. “All right, but we won’t be long . . . and if anything does happen, make sure you howl us a warning immediately. Understand?”
“Yes, Master Nicholas!”
A minute later, Claryce and I entered the church. We were barely inside when Diocles popped up. He solemnly bowed his head toward me, then gave Claryce a welcoming smile.
“Can you still see him?”
“He’s clearer than ever.”
I grunted. “Pity.”
She made an exasperated face. “How can you hold such resentment against him for so long? He’s tried so much to make up for things. Don’t you think sixteen hundred years punishment is enough?”
“No.”
“Nick! I’ve seen you with him. There’s obviously a part of y
ou that wants to set him free.”
A door opened. Father Jonathan peered out. “Nick! Miss Simone. What can I do for you?”
I looked from the priest to Claryce . . . and then even Diocles before returning my attention to the good Father. “Your predecessor should’ve mentioned he was holding something for me.”
“Did he? Let me—” His eyes widened. “Of course! Forgive me! It’s been years.”
Years for him. Decades for me since the last time. “I’d like to retrieve it.”
“Oh, of course! Come with me . . . uh, I’m afraid it’s in a place that would be inconvenient for me to have Miss Simone witness . . .”
“I’ll be fine out here for a few minutes, Nick.”
There wasn’t much choice. “I won’t be long.”
She was as curious as the priest was about what I’d wanted to retrieve from St. Michael’s. I’d asked her to wait to find out. It’d be easier to explain once she saw it.
I quickly followed him into his private quarters. Father Jonathan was nervous. He’d never seen what I’d asked Father Peter to keep safe, and I was sure that it bothered him that I’d appeared to have trusted the older priest more than him. Of course, Father Peter had known the truth about Feirie, something I hoped to spare his successor.
“The space is here,” he explained, as he reached an old armoire. “Obscured by . . . personal items, as he suggested.”
I didn’t bother to interrupt and tell him that Father Peter has arranged everything per my instructions. “I appreciate all this.”
“Father Peter said it was something very precious and well-suited to being a part of the church.” He began moving aside things until he made a small space at the back interior. Then, with the utmost care, he slid a small panel to the side. “I understand he said you inherited it . . . whatever it is, I mean. I swear I have never looked.”
“I trust you.” I did, really. I just didn’t want him trapped by the truth. My world was too dangerous for him. I’d had no choice with Father Peter; he’d discovered everything on his own. He’d also nearly paid for that discovery more than once through the years.
“Here we are.” The priest pulled free a flat, wooden box, worn with age. He eyed it longingly, clearly wondering what he’d guarded for so long.
At this point, I figured I owed him that. I carefully opened the lid and pulled out something about seven inches long, wrapped in a deep purple cloth. As Father Jonathan watched, I unwrapped the contents.
The moment he saw it, he made a cross and murmured in Latin. “Is it real? I mean, it must be for you to take such care, but—”
I held up the T-shaped artifact so that he could see it better. Father Jonathan crossed himself once more.
“It’s real,” I finally answered. “Been in my family for some sixteen hundred years.” It’d actually been in my custody for all that time, but I couldn’t exactly say that.
“It is—it is a cross, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Sixteen hundred years ago, that design had been pretty much one of the accepted representations, the more modern and now prevailing design gaining dominance about a century later.
“And you inherited this?”
I heard the hint of uncertainty. Despite being a fairly simple cross, it was obviously real, and invaluable because of its age. There were a few scratches so worn away only I knew what they’d once meant, and a simple fish symbol.
Who’d put it in my tomb, I never found out. When the Gate and the dragon’s blood had brought me back, it’d been one of the few things Galerius’s men hadn’t stripped away. I guess to them it had been worthless. It hadn’t been made from gold or anything else of value. Still, when I’d awakened, I’d found myself clutching it tight.
It had been with me for centuries before I realized it had another purpose.
“My family traces back to a place called Silene,” I told him, twisting facts around as usual. “It’s been with someone of my blood ever since.” Another twist, but true. I just happened to be that “someone” for all sixteen centuries.
“This . . . this should be in a museum . . . or at the Vatican,” murmured Father Jonathan.
“Maybe someday.” I put the cloth back in the box and handed that to him. “You’ll need this. I’ll bring the cross back once I’m through with it.”
“What are you planning to do with it . . . if I may ask?”
I carefully tucked the cross in an inner pocket on the opposite side from the sword. “Pray, of course.”
He chuckled. “But of course.”
“Thank you. We’ll just be a few minutes out there, then leave. Is that all right?”
“Hasn’t it been, Nick?”
“Thanks again, Father.”
The priest made another cross. “Blessings upon you, Nick.”
I returned to Claryce, who was looking too chummy with Diocles. I’d hoped he’d vanished, but I should’ve known better.
“We’re done here,” I declared. “except for a couple of questions I have for you, Diocles.”
“We were just discussing some things,” Claryce interjected. “About Galerius and my—”
I cut her off. “Galerius is who I need to talk about. Diocles, I need you to think some more. Galerius was dying of some awful stuff. He had gangrene and more. We spoke about his search for cures. Can you recall anything else?”
“That is what she was trying to tell you before your rudeness to her,” the ghost replied with an air of offense. “Truly, you have lost your manners! I expect nothing less with me, but the princess—”
“I’m not a princess now, Diocles,” she pointed out, “and Nick’s just impatient about Galerius. You understand that, don’t you?”
He bowed to her. Again. “As you say, Lady Claryce. But I met you then—”
“Hold on!” I blurted loudly. Both of them looked at me as if I’d just disavowed Heaven here in the church. Fighting to keep my voice level, I continued, “What do you mean, you met her then? How does this slip your mind, Diocles?”
“I am a ghost, Georgius! A shade. I am cursed to follow you around until such time as you forgive me . . . which at this point will likely not occur until long after Judgment Day.” He went through the pretense of taking a calming breath, never mind the fact that he didn’t breathe. “It was not long after I began to feel ill. Like Galerius, I made my own searches for a cure. Even secretly visited other lands, not all that easy when even as a former emperor your face is still on coins.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. You didn’t look any more like your image on those coins than I look like those Rudy Valentino images on all those posters.”
“Hmmph. Well, eventually I learned of a new avenue of hope. Word reached me of the mystic properties of various mighty beasts, especially those considered most . . . exotic.”
Inside me, the dragon hissed. Couldn’t say that I blamed him. “You were after his bones!”
“Bones, scales, teeth . . . all proclaimed to have healing properties.”
“Well, clearly that didn’t work out.”
He spread his hands. “I would not know. There was nothing to find. No trace.”
That didn’t make any sense. “Wait. Are you trying to tell me you couldn’t find any remains . . . of a dragon?”
“Not a trace. Others had come before me, evidently stripping everything, including the flesh from the—”
Make him stop! Silence him! Eye will burn him! Eye will burn all of them!
The outburst came so abruptly, so powerfully, that it shook me to the core. I weaved toward the pews and nearly collapsed into them.
“Nick!” Claryce was instantly at my side. She helped me sit. Diocles had his hands stretched toward me, forgetting that they’d just pass through my body.
“Are you all right?” She looked me over. “What happened?”
“I think we just discovered a sore spot with him,” I muttered.
“The dragon? Why would—oh. Of course.”
The ghost frow
ned. “My apologies! I did not think—”
“Just . . . spare some details. Nothing remained. Your hopes were dashed.”
“I was about to return home when I had a secret visitor. The princess.”
I looked at Claryce. “This ring a bell with you?”
“No . . . but it sounds like the truth. I only remember little bits from Clarissa and Claudette . . . nothing older as far as I can tell.”
“I swear I speak nothing but the truth.” Diocles put a hand over his heart. The pledge might’ve meant more to me if he had a heart still beating. “She came disguised and her manner was furtive. I’d forgotten, since at the time it seemed it ended in nothing. Now, though, I think there was more to it.”
Diocles hadn’t even been sure at first who Cleolinda had been. A princess from a far off, tiny realm engulfed by the great empire wasn’t something the former emperor would have paid attention to. It was only when he learned of her link to me that he reluctantly agreed to meet her.
That guilt for both the Great Persecution and my beheading had already been eating at him didn’t make me feel any more sympathetic. Diocles had known he was dying; I knew he’d decided to meet with Cleolinda in part to try to cleanse his soul.
He did surprise me at this moment by admitting it, though.
“I finally said I would grant her an audience, but not so much out of respect for her. I hoped Heaven might look favorably on me at least a little if I could make amends with someone who had been a part of your life.”
Instead, to his surprise, Cleolinda had tried to offer him a lifeline.
She’d come to Diocles with a small fragment from the dragon, a piece of scale. There’d been more, but the princess had already given that away a little at a time to any in need of the possible healing properties.
“I clutched that scale to my bosom as if my own child, Georgius. I knew the potential power it held. Indeed, I abased myself before her, so grateful was I.”
“So what went wrong?” I asked. “You didn’t recover. Was it all a myth . . . the scale’s power?”
“I would not know. It was stolen from me as I made my way back to Dalmatia.” He hesitated. “I desperately sought to contact the princess to see if she might have any other relic from the dragon. I learned then to my horror that though it was officially proclaimed that she had passed from an illness of her own . . . she had been, in fact, murdered.”
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