The Mortal Falls

by Anna Durand

  "Go away," the kid said, his accent reminiscent of Chicago or the Bronx. "I ain't interested in the sylph's latest bimbo. I'm busy."

  "I am not a bimbo." How many girls had Nevan brought here? Thousands of years, remember? "I don't appreciate the sexist jibe, you pubescent rat."

  His brows shot up. "I been called lotsa things, but never that. Least Nev brought a sassy one this time."

  The kid wiped his free hand on his ripped and faded blue jeans. He lifted the rock to inspect it. I recognized the chunk of green-tinged stone as copper ore, much like the chunks we sold in the shop. Two of the rock's edges had been sanded to a smooth surface and polished to a glassy shine.

  My jaw fell open. No, not like the ore we sold in the shop. The rock had come from the shop. The kid was holding one of the float copper bookends my now-deceased shoplifter had tried to swipe. He must've sneaked back into the shop to finish his heist. But how did the leprechaun get the bookend?

  The top edge of the stone, once curved and smooth, now looked ragged and raw.

  My new friend raised the copper bookend to his mouth and bit into it. Crunch. Bits of copper ore peppered his green flannel shirt.

  "Lindsey," Nevan said, nodding toward the boy, "meet Tris."

  "He doesn't look like a leprechaun."

  "If you were expecting a stout little fellow wearing a green outfit and a big smile, I'm afraid you've come to the wrong place. Tris doesn't do colorful or cheerful."

  Tris threw a hot glare at Nevan before zeroing in on me. "We do not wear lame hats or dole out luck. Got it?"

  "Yeah, I get it." Thinking I'd better ingratiate myself if I hoped to resurrect the dead man, I added, careful to avoid any dangerous niceties, "I didn't mean to offend you."

  His glower softened, though only a smidgen. "I blame the sylph. If I could, I'd sue him for libel and I'd win." He bit off another mouthful of copper, munching it with great relish. "What do you want, lady? You're busting in on my lunch."

  I decided to take the high road and assume rudeness was a defense against the weird magic rules. "Do you know what happened to the dead man?"

  Tris gulped down the last of his copper ore. "Look, I don't got a clue what you're yammering about. Go away."

  He flapped a dismissive hand in my direction.

  To hell with ingratiating myself. If this kid was guilty, I wanted to know.

  I marched three steps toward him, narrowing the gap between us to a few feet. His eyes, though glowing like Nevan's, lacked any motion or fire in the irises, imbuing them with a coldness. Yet behind the flat green light something sputtered, faint and well hidden, visible only from the right angle. He might not be as cold as he wanted me to think. "The man you stole that copper from is dead. Somebody bashed him in the head. I'm guessing it was you."

  Tris made a thumbs-down gesture. "You guess wrong."

  He hefted the bookend for another bite.

  I snatched it from his hand.

  Tris let out a loud hiss. "That's mine, sister. Give it back."

  He thrust out a hand, waggling his fingers in the universal gesture for gimme-gimme.

  I clutched the bookend to my chest. It was oddly warm, probably from the leprechaun's hands around the stone. "You stole it."

  From another thief, but that was immaterial.

  The kid shook his head, not as if denying what I'd said, but as if he knew I wouldn't leave him alone until he told the truth. Good. Let him stew.

  Nevan bounded up behind me. "Tell her what happened, Tris. This one is willful. Ignoring her won't do you one bit of good."

  Tris refused to glance at Nevan or acknowledge the man had spoken. Instead, he slumped forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "All right, all right. But I didn't kill nobody. He was dead when I found him. Seeing as how he didn't need the copper anymore, I sorta claimed it. As abandoned property."

  I tapped my fingers on the bookend, still hugged to my chest. "Why should I believe you?"

  "It's the truth, lady," he snarled. "Believe it or don't, what do I care?"

  Actually, I did believe him. Couldn't say why. The kid was annoying, insolent, and must've suffered from a bizarre mineral deficiency. I didn't like him. And yet, I believed his story. "If you didn't kill the guy, who did?"

  "Dunno." His glazed eyes fixated on the bookend and he licked his lips. "I'm still hungry. Can I have that back?"

  Considering the way he kept moistening his lips, and the greedy sheen in his eyes, he must've really been hungry. For copper ore? Oh well, I'd given up on trying to understand anything that happened since I found the dead man yesterday.

  I handed the bookend to Tris. He bit off a mouthful. His teeth pulverized the rock with an audible grinding noise and powdered copper dribbled from his lips. He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

  What kind of teeth did this kid have?

  I shoved the question to the back of my mind, returning to the issue at hand. "I believe you. Which means I need to ask for your help."

  He made a rude noise. "I don't do favors. 'Specially not for stinking mortals."

  A snide quip popped to mind, but I bit it back and tried my damnedest to look relaxed and nonthreatening. Not that anyone had ever accused me of being threatening. Just seemed like a good idea to minimize the hostility. "If I could ask anyone else, I would, but according to Nevan, you're it. Resurrect the dead man for me."

  "Ah," Nevan said, a finger raised. He gave me a look that suggested he thought I was tiptoeing too close to the P-word. "Perhaps I should take over from here."

  "I need his help and you said he wouldn't talk to you." I turned back to Tris. "Will you do this for me?"

  "Help a mortal?" Tris cackled. Like a witch from a bad horror movie. Leprechauns were not supposed to cackle. In that moment, I realized I'd better adjust my preconceptions — or better yet, dump them altogether — if I hoped to survive in my new reality.

  I raised both hands, palms together, letting my gesture beg where I could not. "Bring back the dead man and I'll owe — "

  "No-no," Nevan said. He strode between me and Tris, a massive blockade composed of tight muscles and burnished skin. "She doesn't care to finish that sentence."

  "Sure I do."

  Nevan shot me a dark look. "Trust me. You don't."

  Tris lowered the bookend, letting it rest on his thigh. He tilted his head up to glower straight at Nevan, who met his gaze with a blank one of his own. Tris spoke directly to the sylph. "Don't this broad know nothing? What kinda morons are you bringing in here these days, Nev?"

  My sylph companion feigned surprise. "Now you're speaking to me, eh?"

  The kid snorted. "Not cuz I wanna. But what's the point in talking to this broad when she don't even know about debts? Teach these dames the basics before you drag 'em in here."

  I peeked around Nevan's shoulder. "Debts? What do you mean? Does this have anything to do with not letting me say the P-word?"

  "Never mind," Nevan said, shifting sideways to keep me blockaded. "Tris, Lindsey asked for your help. Will you voluntarily perform the service?"

  Voluntarily perform? I marveled at the deft way he tap-danced around around these magical land mines. No please, no implication of owing anything. He asked the leprechaun to volunteer.

  "What's in it for me?" Tris demanded.

  Nevan gritted his teeth, blustering a breath out his nostrils. "I won't throttle you."

  I curled a hand over Nevan's bicep. It bulged under my palm, hardened by a barely contained anger. His eyes fluoresced in shades of red, bronze, and white, while his skin seemed to toughen like leather stretched taut. He had the aura of a wild beast preparing to pounce. Whatever happened between Tris and Nevan must've involved way more than the sylph enjoying a simple roll in the hay with the leprechaun's sister.

  I gave his arm a light squeeze. "Nevan, chill out. I can
handle this."

  His radioactive eyes swerved to me.

  I let my hand fall away from his arm, chilled by the eerie sense of gazing into the soul of an ancient, ruthless warrior. I bit back the first word that wanted to come out of my mouth — "please" — and scoured my brain for a safer phrase.

  Nevan crept closer to the leprechaun.

  "Stop this," I said. "You've done enough for me and I can handle one snotty twerp. I'm grate — "

  Nevan slapped a hand over my mouth.

  I pushed his hand away. "What are you doing?"

  "You were about to incur a debt." His gaze flitted to Tris and back to me. "All debts must be repaid, by whatever means the owed party desires."

  By whatever means. He'd told me Skeiron forced him into a bargain that enslaved him to the king's whims. Nevan repaid that debt every day, humiliated by his duty. I did not care to wind up bound like that.

  "You vowed to do as I asked," Nevan said. "Do not incur a debt. Obey me on this."

  The gravity of his tone stopped me. His grip tightened, his nails slicing in my flesh. "Ouch. You're hurting me."

  He yanked his hands away and held them in mid-air, as if he weren't sure they belonged to him. Breathing hard, he slowly lowered his arms. "I should not have held you so tightly."

  "No shit." I lifted my right hand, palm out. "I won't thank anybody or say I owe them ever again. Satisfied?"

  His shoulders flagged, looking suddenly weary. "Yes."

  "I almost heard a thank-you in that yes."

  "Owing you would not be a trial."

  Tucking my hands in my pockets, I rocked forward on my toes to smile up at him. "I'll remember you said that."

  His mouth slid into half smile, but then he reminded me, "No bargaining. And no gratitude of any kind."

  "Got it." I angled a little closer. "You're bossy, but I've decided it's in a good way."

  His voice dropped to a husky rumble. "How good am I?"

  Despite the distance between us, his radiant heat soaked into me like sunshine. Our gazes intersected, drawn together by a gravitational force. My thoughts and desires revolved around him — I, the satellite trapped in the orbit of him, the planetary body. If I gave in to the pull, our passion would explode like a supernova. The mere thought of it shuddered anticipation through my entire body.

  I was in so much trouble.

  The leprechaun cleared his throat, regarding me with a canny gleam in his eyes.

  Oh yeah, sooo much trouble.

  11

  "I don't give a rat's ass about your tender moment," Tris announced. "If you're wanting me to resurrect somebody, better gimme one whopper of a reason. I ain't the generous type."

  He dragged a finger down my arm, from the hem of my sleeve down to my wrist. I ached to drown in the fire of our kiss one more time. Instead, I tromped over to the leprechaun, who grunted his derision.

  Nevan, sidling up beside me, trailed his middle finger down the back of my forearm to tease the sensitive skin of my inner wrist, unleashing a riot of sensations. My body yearned to lean back into him.

  None of that now. I linked my hands behind my back.

  "Well?" Tris said. "You gonna convince me or what? I told ya I ain't in the habit of doing favors for mortals."

  Nevan bent forward to loom over the seated leprechaun. "You'll be wanting to grant this favor. Unless you're in the mood for a thrashing."

  "Shush," I said, elbowing him in the side. "I can handle this."

  He grumbled.

  I turned to the leprechaun. "Someone is trying to frame me for murder."

  "That's my problem how?"

  "Because… " My lips moved, I knew they did, but my train of thought derailed. Nevan and Tris must've heard the engine of my mind chugging, the wheels spinning, because they both studied me with bemused humor. I bounced on my heels and told Tris, with no attempt at all to disguise my self-satisfaction, "Because Nevan'll beat the crap out of you if you don't."

  Nevan balked. "Pardon me, love, but I thought you were handling the dilemma yourself. Woman's liberation, eh? I believe that's what your kind calls it."

  "Yeah, it is — and yeah, I am handling it."

  "But you told him — you threatened I would — " Nevan's words disintegrated into exasperated noises. He threw his hands in the air. I muffled a giggle, but lost the battle with my grin. My reaction seemed to smother his temper and he let his arms drop. "I will never understand mortals."

  "The feeling's mutual, Mr. Elemental Spirit of the Air." I tried to glare at Tris, but the humor slowly fading out of me hindered the attempt. "Will you do the resurrection thing or not?"

  Tris worked his lips as if torn by the decision. "All right. But I'm only doing this to shut up your yammering. And so's I don't gotta watch you two drool over each other anymore. I'm getting nauseous."

  "Maybe it's the raw copper ore you've been wolfing down."

  He fixed me with a sly stare. "You want your sack of flesh and bones brought back to life or not?"

  "I do."

  "Let's get on with it then."

  "Thank — " I clapped my own hand on my mouth this time, cutting off my words one syllable short of thanking the weaselly leprechaun. I chastised myself silently and removed my hand. "How's it work? This resurrection thing."

  Tris chomped a bite of copper ore. "Use the vortex."

  "Excuse me?"

  "The vortex." Tris made a swirling gesture with his hand. "The one with the big sign next to it that says healing vortex in big white letters."

  Realization rushed through me, stealing my breath and leaving me speechless. I'd known the vortex could heal minor wounds, but resurrect the dead? Holy heaven.

  Tris eyed Nevan. "She illiterate or something?"

  "No," Nevan intoned, "but she can be a tad slow to comprehend. We should excuse her, since this is her first trip through the falls."

  The flapping of wings made us all jerk our heads skyward. A raven orbited overhead, banked lower with each circuit of the clearing. Though ravens all looked the same to me, an instinct warned me I'd met this one before. Brennus was back.

  The raven dived into a tree, landing on a low-handing branch, and cawed three times.

  Nevan stared down the bird.

  The creature canted its head, coughing. Brennus casually fluttered his wings.

  I inched toward Nevan. "Am I right in assuming that's — "

  "Brennus."

  The raven launched his body off the branch. It flapped wildly as Brennus rocketed up into the heavens to circle higher and higher until his dark figure shrank into a dot, winking out of sight.

  Nevan pulled me snug against his side. He didn't have to tell me Brennus's appearance signaled bad news for us. Thanks to his spy and assassin, Skeiron would soon know where we were.

  Thunder grumbled. A storm cloud blossomed in front of the sun and a chilly wind whipped through the clearing. I rubbed my bare arms as my gaze drifted up to the sky and the black mass consuming the blue. A crack of thunder detonated overhead.

  I jumped.

  Tris froze mid chew.

  Nevan scowled at the cloud, his arm clinching me tighter.

  An explosion of thunder rolled across the heavens, fading into silence, but I swore I heard laughter rumbling beneath it.

  Nevan's breaths heated my cheek as he hunched to whisper in my ear. "No one will harm you. Not Brennus, not Skeiron, not even one of the gods will dare lay a hand on you. I will not allow it."

  I longed to believe him, but though his words carried the weight of conviction, the sight of the raven soaring across the sky had slithered doubt through my heart. Nevan would try to protect me.

  He would fail.

  The certainty of it shimmied a chill down my spine, despite the warmth of Nevan's arm around my shoulders. He held me fast, his a
rm rigid.

  Tris snapped off yet another bite of copper. "What's Brennus want with you two?" Nevan opened his mouth to answer, but Tris waved a hand. "Forget it. I don't wanna know."

  "Are you sure this will work?" I asked. "The resurrection thing."

  "Drag the mook into the vortex and it'll heal him." Tris scratched his chin. "Probably. Depends on how long it's been since he croaked and how busted up he is. Assuming his head ain't lopped off, it oughta work."

  Earlier I'd learned firsthand the vortex had real regenerative power. Still, of all the shocking revelations I'd been hit with in the past twenty-four hours, somehow the notion of a genuine healing vortex stung worse than anything else. I'd spent three months denying such a thing could exist — hell, I'd spent years denying anything supernatural existed — and now my freedom depended on mystical healing energies.

  Does it spin you?

  Sandy's question about the vortex echoed in my brain. Yesterday, I'd told her no. Today, I felt my head spinning at the very mention of the blasted thing.

  I resisted the impulse to tap my heels together and pray to go home. Instead, I leaned into Nevan just a little. "All I have to do is drag the body into the vortex?"

  "Mm-hm," Tris mumbled around a mouthful of rock. "And let me finish my lunch. Gotta get the vortex up to full power for this one." I must've crinkled my brow or given some other sign of confusion, because Tris held up the copper bookend. "I eat this, it gives me power. The vortex gets it power from me. Get it?"

  No, I didn't really, but I'd take his word for it.

  I considered my options for a couple seconds, then said, "You didn't have to help me, Tris, but you did. You are a much nicer boy than you want everyone to think."

  He looked up at me through his eyelashes, his mouth warped into a half grimace, half smile. Couldn't expect a teenager to admit he was a good boy. So not cool.

  Was he a teenager? If Nevan could change his appearance, maybe Tris was older than he let on.

  Tris shrugged one shoulder, returning his attention to the copper ore. "Whatever."

  I swore I detected a faint blush on his cheeks.