by Bonnie Lamer
Dagda continues. “She begged me not to do it. Every damn day, she begged me not to do it, not to betray her. But my precious pride would not listen.”
“It may not be too late,” Isla says quietly.
That makes Dagda swing around. “You saw her, damn it! She is too far gone to be saved.”
Can she possibly be saved? “I’ll help,” I say. Although, the shallowest part of me has to admit, looking across the table at the woman at family dinners might ruin my appetite.
Dagda walks to his desk and sits in the chair. Putting his glass down, he rubs his eyes with the bases of his palms. I’m not sure if it’s from exhaustion or to wipe away some stray tears. I think it’s a little bit of both.
Finally, he looks at me. “There are some things that even you cannot fix, Xandra. I drove away my heart’s desire, my one true soul mate, and even your magic cannot make her love me again.”
“Of course not, that’s your job,” I say bluntly. I feel Kallen stiffen behind me.
Anger floods Dagda’s ashen face with color. “Do you think I have not tried?!” he growls.
“I guess you’ll have to keep trying,” I say evenly. “And I’ll help get you the opportunity.” Providing she keeps Cerberus on a leash. I would prefer to never have to battle him again. Scratch that, I’ll help him anyway. “So, since she has the dog and the ferry, do you think she’s in the Underworld?” Does it even exist? Since Angels just peel off the darkness of souls, I’m not sure what the Underworld would actually be for.
Reading my mind, Kallen says, “It is a refuge for souls who do not wish to be judged. It is a dangerous place.”
I give him a ‘please’ look. Other than our little island vacation, where have we gone that wasn’t dangerous? “Just tell me where to go.” It’s funny how I’ve gone from being a child with a sheltered upbringing to a ‘bring on the violence’ adult in such a short period of time. The old me would be so proud. Right.
“Xandra,” Isla begins.
I put up a hand to stop her. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t take the Underworld lightly, it’s a dangerous place, I might get maimed or killed. Yada, yada, yada. I’m still doing it.”
Isla’s eyes have narrowed into green slits. “Are you forgetting that you still have a mess here to deal with?” she asks dryly.
Um, sort of. Crap. “No.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Then you have a plan in place to fix it?”
No, not at all. “I’m working on it. I have some ideas and I think I know what to do.” Lies, lies and more lies.
“Xandra, you are not going to the Underworld,” Dagda says through jaws too depressed to open more than a fraction of an inch. “You would not survive it.”
Oh, great. Now I’m pissed. “I’ve survived Shadows and Dragons and evil Archangels and you,” I snipe. “The Underworld should be a piece of cake.”
“There is no magic in the Underworld,” Kallen says evenly. There is so much he isn’t saying in that sentence. I’m sure they’re all variations of ‘over my dead body you’re going to the Underworld’.
“Okay, then I’ll have to use my brain instead of my magic.” He had better be very careful how he responds to that.
“There are no bodies in the Underworld. You can only gain entrance if you are a disembodied soul,” Kallen says. Huh. That was a good response. “You would have to die.”
Yeah, that’s not a good plan. “Then how did she gain entrance?” No one needs to ask who the ‘she’ in that sentence is. I don’t say her name because I don’t want to make Dagda’s face fall even more. It seems to happen every time someone does say it.
“She may not have needed to gain entry,” Isla says and all our eyes turn to her.
“What do you mean?” Kallen asks.
Incredulously, I ask, “Do you think she stole the ferry and Cerberus?”
Isla is deep in thought so her answer is slow coming. Finally, she says, “Perhaps she struck a bargain with Hades.”
“What sort of bargain?” I ask, knowing that she couldn’t possibly have an answer for me. Oh. Maybe I do. “Souls.” My turn to have all eyes in the room focus on me. “Doesn’t Hades rule over souls?” I’m not a Greek mythology scholar by any means, but I’m pretty sure that’s his job.
“Whose souls?” Dagda asks, but I suspect he knows.
“Ours.”
Isla’s eyes light up. “The souls of a King and the most powerful being alive, those would be a tantalizing prize.”
“Which makes it even more unreasonable for Xandra to go there,” Kallen says.
My turn to stiffen. Turning my head to look up at him, I say, “That’s for me to decide.” A thundercloud moves across his eyes, but I have lightning in mine so he can stuff it.
“Xandra,” Kallen begins.
“Enough,” Dagda says. “Why are we even discussing this? Tana obviously cannot dwell in the Underworld as she still has a body. She will not be there.”
“But if she has been making deals with Hades, there must be information to be gained from him,” I counter.
“Gained at the risk to your own life or having Hades trap your soul there for eternity?” Kallen growls. “What information could be that important?”
Stepping away from him, I turn to face him. “I would swear on my life that she was involved in me letting dark magic loose on the realm, she blew up our bedroom, she poisoned the royal food tester, she scared Mathild so badly she may never recover mentally, and she tried to trap me in my mind.” I’m not positive on that last one but I’m still adding it to the list. “Yeah, I think getting information on her plans would be a pretty good idea.”
Kallen wants to hit something. His fists are in tight balls and murder is on his face. But he knows I’m right. “Then I will go there.”
I start to roll my eyes, but I stop myself in time. It’s my turn to tread carefully with an answer. After all, if no magic is available in the Underworld, this could be a better plan. Kallen’s much better at being tactful, not to mention respectful, when trying to get information from someone. Me? I barrel in and use my magic to force answers out of people and tact is nowhere on my horizon. It’s surprising I even know what the word ‘tact’ means. My parents should have socialized me better when I was young, I guess.
Kallen’s arms are crossed in front of his chest as he waits patiently for my response. “Okay, we both go,” I counter crossing my own arms over my chest. Check mate. There’s nothing he can say against that.
“It is not my soul he is after therefore it is safer if I go alone. If I am with you, that puts us both in more danger.”
Damn. He’s good. “I don’t care.” Yeah, that was a mature response. Maybe I should put on my pouty lips and stamp my foot like I’m two.
A loud slap on the desk snaps our heads around. “Enough!” Dagda practically shouts. “If anyone is going, it will be me!”
Isla, Kallen and I speak together like we planned it. “No.”
Dagda stands up so fast, his chair goes flying back towards the wall, putting a nice long crack in the plaster. “My wife! Mine! If anyone is going to try to save her, it will be me!”
Putting my hands on my hips, I narrow my eyes and do my best ‘you’re being ridiculous’ face. I see it enough on people looking at me to have it instantly mastered. “You keep telling me that I have to act like a Princess. The same goes for you.” That didn’t come out right. “I mean, you need to act like a King. You can’t go out all half-cocked and get yourself killed. Honestly, do you think I’d make a good Queen right now?” I think I just insulted myself.
And the insult continues. “No,” Dagda says as he retrieves his chair and sits back down with a defeated thump. “You are not.”
Now, I half want him to go. “Thanks,” I mutter under my breath.
“Then it is decided,” Isla says. “Kallen and Xandra will go. After the mess here is cleaned up.”
Well, that could be never then. I try to keep my pessimism off my face though. “Ho
w did all the dark magic get trapped in the archives in the first place?” I ask.
“It happened over centuries. Spell by spell,” Isla says.
That was helpful. “I know that.” Really, I do have a brain. “How?”
With her fingers on her right hand pinching the bridge of her nose as if all her frustration and stress is only being held in by that gesture, Isla sits down. It takes her a moment to speak. Looking up at me finally, she says, “Most spells were found to have a counter spell of some sort. The rest it was a matter of tracking down the practitioner and forcing him or her to call the spell back. Most of the time, this occurred with his or her death.” That makes sense. Dead people can’t sustain the magic needed for their spells.
“Um, I’d like to avoid the whole ‘kill the practitioner’ thing if possible,” I say, my voice going a little bit higher than normal since I’m the practitioner of the spells this time. Not that any laid that out on the table, but sill.
Wait! That’s it. “I have to go to the Underworld!”
Six eyes blink repeatedly as three Fairies try to refrain from asking me if I’ve gone mad. Which I haven’t. Yet. “If I go to the Underworld where there’s no magic, the spells that have been set free because of my magic will end.” Sounds plausible. I hope I’m right.
Isla opens her mouth to argue but closes her lips again. Dagda is looking at me like he doesn’t know if he should be proud of my genius or locked up because of my stupidity. Kallen is vigorously trying to come up with a counter to my argument. He really doesn’t want me to go to the Underworld for any reason.
Dagda’s eyes slip to Isla’s. “Well?”
I can practically see the gears churning in her brain as she mulls over the pro’s and con’s of the idea. After an eternity, she says, “It is plausible.”
“Then it’s decided. Kallen and I both go.”
Dagda sits back in his chair and rubs his tired eyes. “In theory, this could work. But, how do you plan to disengage your soul from your bodies?”
I have this one covered. “The same way my aunt did. With her machines.”
That brings on some wild stares. And a cacophony of voices. “You are not going to use that dangerous contraption,” Dagda practically shouts.
“Over my dead body,” Kallen adds. “That is insane.”
“How, exactly, do you intend to ensure your arrival in the Underworld instead of the Shadow realm?” Isla chimes in.
Boy, what a bunch of naysayers. “I’ll figure it out.” Okay, that probably didn’t lay any of their fears to rest. “I’m sure I can control it better than Aunt Barb did.” How? I have no idea. By shear strength of will, I guess.
A knock on the door saves me from having to give details. “Enter,” Dagda growls. His tone suggests that the Fairy on the other side of the door better have a darn good reason for interrupting.
It is Naja. “Your Highness, we have found the scribe.” That’s a pretty good reason to interrupt. I’m eager to see the creepy little guy and find out what he knows.
“Enter,” Dagda says in an even tone.
Naja opens the door and one look at her face, it’s obvious she is not bringing good news. Great. At least one of our heads is going to explode before we leave this room, I just know it.
Squaring her shoulders, Naja says, “He is dead.”
“Dead?” I repeat in disbelief. “How?”
Naja’s sharp eyes turn to me. “It appears to be from natural causes. A week ago.”
Okay, this day does feel like it’s never going to end, but I’m ninety-nine point eight percent sure it’s only been one day, not a week. “That’s not possible.”
“I agree,” Kallen says, his brow scrunched up like I know mine is.
“Naja, please continue.” Dagda’s voice is filled with the sentiment ‘that seems par for the course today’.
“We found him in the archives.”
“Shouldn’t we have been able to smell him when we were down there if his corpse was a week old?” Not to be gross, but my father taught me that dead and decaying bodies have a nasty, pungent scent. I understand it’s hard to miss.
Naja’s face has lost its professionalism for a moment and lines of horror and disgust form in her smooth skin. “He has been preserved.”
Preserved? It sounds like he’s been made into jam. “By who?” Like she’s going to know the answer to that.
Now discomfort reins free all over her face. “I…” I suspect she is rarely without words. “Um.”
“Spit. It. Out.” Dagda says, almost making her take a step back.
Naja is not a coward though. “I recognized the magic to be that of the Queen.”
Is she really still Queen? It’s like when Kallen and I were married and Raziel showed up at the last minute. We had to decide if a hand-fasting is between two souls or two bodies. Tana’s body is the same, with the addition of some oozing defects now, but her soul has been forever tarnished. If her soul has been altered so significantly, is she still the same person and worthy of the same title? Okay, my head hurts now.
“We spoke with the scribe this morning,” Kallen points out.
Little things come back to me. The scribe was painfully slow at first, but was somehow able to make the half mile trip down to the dark section of the archives as quickly as we did. In the village, he had enough energy to catch up with me, declare me an enemy of the state, and then disappear without anyone noticing he was gone. Pretty great accomplishments for a guy who’s been dead for a week.
“Are you certain?” Dagda asks. “Are you certain of the timeline?” He does not ask the same of the magic used.
Naja doesn’t take offense at her judgment being questioned. In a firm yet kind voice, she says, “I did not come to you until my findings had been verified by the Keeper of the Dead.”
“Who is that?” I blurt out realizing too late that this really isn’t the time for this type of question. There are bigger things to worry about than my ignorance of the mores of the Fairy society.
Kallen answers anyway. “She is the one who examines the dead before they are interred back to the earth.”
She must be like a medical examiner. Got it. Turning to Isla, I say, “I assume there’s a dark magic spell that can make you look like someone else?” One sharp nod of her head is her response. She is totally pissed right now. I don’t think she can speak.
“We should have sensed her magic,” Isla says. That is the first time I have heard self-disgust in her voice.
“Yes, we should have,” Dagda says. I get the feeling that he’s swimming in a big old vat of self-loathing. He betrayed his wife, drove her crazy enough to turn dark and then didn’t recognize her magic when she returned. Yeah, those things would motivate most people to take a dive in that vat. Throw in a little derision and a dash of contempt and you have the perfect self-destructive stew. He probably shouldn’t be left alone around sharp objects or high windows right now.
“That’s stupid,” I say. That gets everyone’s attention. I roll my eyes. “Obviously, she can mask her magic. She did back at the mansion. Why would you think she didn’t do that here?”
“We should have sensed the spell, as I did at the mansion,” Isla says tightly. I don’t think those are the only words she wants to say to me right now.
“Okay, so you’re not perfect. Big deal.” Actually, I think it is a big deal to these two.
“Are we about bloody done here?” a whiny voice from below my knee says. “All this pissing and moaning is making me hungry and there’s a dead wallaby out there somewhere with my name on it.”
“Shut up,” I hiss down to him. My eyes back on Isla, I say, “Why would you have sensed it? She probably only got here today after distracting us with him.” I point my finger at the now pouting Taz. “She took care of Alita, the only one who probably would have felt the dark magic in a palace this big, by overloading her senses and cleared a path for herself. The whole point of her actions was to not have you recognize her spells
so she buried them under a bunch of other ones.” So duh, is what I really want to say.
“If you already have her figured out, then why do we need to go to the Underworld?” Kallen says tightly. Amazing how much he’s like Isla sometimes. His expression is a mirror image of hers right now. I can’t believe he still wants to argue about this. It’s been settled.
I purse my lips and narrow my eyes. “Okay, Mr. Smarty Pants, tell me what she’s going to do next.”
“I am not the one who claims to know so much about her,” Kallen says, his eyes flashing in anger.
Putting my hands on my hips, ready to argue, I say, “I didn’t say…” I stop and take a deep breath. And another one. Looking at my husband while trying to erase the anger written all over my face, I say, “I think the darkness is making an appearance again.”