Pete blushed. “Maybe he’s right,” he said in a small voice.
Crap. “No, Petey, he’s wrong. You didn’t ask for any of this, but I know you. You always act from your heart.”
Dawn rested her guitar case on the floor. “What is a Vice-Archon supposed to do?” she asked.
Vee shrugged. “The titles haven’t been used in hundreds of years, so nobody’s got a good idea what exactly we’re supposed to do, or what the rules are.”
“Exactly,” I said. “They’re just honorary titles, from the Fey perspective anyway.” Titles meant to give Pete and Vee protection from being declared rogue brightbloods, while retaining some freedom from normal brightblood restrictions. I’d hoped they could continue to live a somewhat normal life. “You shouldn’t feel obligated to do anything just because of them.”
*Yet the Archon is a fool and a coward,* Alynon said.
This region’s Archon for the Silver Court brightbloods, their duly appointed representative to both the Fey Court and the Arcana Ruling Council, had in fact turned out to be more concerned with holding on to his position and covering his ass than doing what was necessary to ensure the safety and well-being of his brightbloods.
“Well,” Sammy said, “like most politicians, he’s pretty much making his own fears come true.”
*La, it makes sense now,* Alynon said. *I had wondered why my sister so willingly granted you such a boon, when it was most certain to cause problems.*
Yeah? Care to share your revelation?
*Indeed, since you are too addlepated to realize it yourself. My sister must have known that the Archon failed in his duty. But she could not simply remove him, not when the Silver Court was already under attack and any perception of weakness or lack of trust in our own Archons would be undesirable.*
“Of course,” I said, understanding blossoming.
“Of course what?” Dawn asked.
“Sorry, Alynon was talking to me. It seems Oshun hoped that granting Pete and Vee the Vice-Archon positions would force the Archon to rise to the challenge, and fulfill his duties.”
*La. And should he fail to do so, then the needs of our vassals would be met by two who she believed to have compassion and courage most abundant.*
“Great.” I looked up at Petey. “And if the Archon won’t do what needs doing, maybe you would.”
“So what should we do?” Pete asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “But I feel a bit used.”
Silene’s voice rang out, “That makes two of us.” I turned, and saw that she had returned with Sal, antler-headed Farquhar, and three militant fauns, and none of them looked like they’d come to welcome us as roomies or explain the chore chart.
“Uh, is everything okay?” I asked.
“You tell me,” Silene said, and one of the fauns held out a hand.
A rune-carved mouse skull caged in twisted metal fell from his hand and dangled by a cord: the spirit trap that had been stolen from Mother’s garden. The trap I had used to capture Kaminari’s spirit, by destroying Dunngo’s—by destroying the friend and clan mate of these Silver brightbloods.
“Where’d you get that?” my mouth said before my brain told me the question wasn’t necessary. I knew where. Grandfather had hired the gnomes to steal it, and to deliver it here.
“It came with a message,” Silene said, ignoring my question. “That you used this to destroy Dunngo’s spirit in order to capture Kaminari’s, and he can never return to the Aal.”
“Finn wouldn’t do that,” Pete said behind me, anger in his own voice now. “My brother is not a dark necromancer, and I’ll beat up whoever says he is.”
I winced.
Damn you, Grandfather, I thought. I’m going to make you pay for this.
I turned and faced Petey, put a hand on his arm. “Pete, it’s true. But I can explain.”
“What?” Sammy demanded.
Pete pulled away from me, the hurt of betrayal clear on his face, and I felt my heart drop. I turned to face Silene again, because it was easier. I saw that Dawn had palmed her Taser out of her pocket. I gave her a slight frown and shake of my head, hopefully subtle enough that only she saw it, then met Silene’s eyes. “Dunngo asked me to do it, begged me to. Kaminari was about to kill you, Pete, and Sal. I tried everything to stop her but I just wasn’t strong enough. I told Dunngo the cost, that I didn’t want to do it, but—” I shook my head. “I couldn’t let Petey die.”
I could see my words held some impact for Silene, and she hesitated before saying, “If your brother had died, if we all had died, then we would have returned to the Aal, and been reborn into the next life. But you took that away from Dunngo. You destroyed him forever. That is too great a crime to accept, even if it was done in my name, or the name of those I care about.”
“Silene, please,” I began, but her hand sliced the air.
“No. I am sorry, but there is nothing more to say. Though you have done much to help my clan, we know well the stories of dark necromancers, and have suffered much from the acts of your own grandfather. I cannot allow you on Silver Court grounds any longer. Return without invitation, and it will mean your death. Now take your cursed amulet with you, and leave.”
The faun with the amulet held it out as though it stank like a dead skunk’s colostomy bag, and stepped toward me.
“Is youself sure?” Sal asked Silene. “Not wise to give a weapon back to mage-men.”
“Keeping it would prove even worse. And he would not risk the lives of all those here in a foolish attack, even if he were our enemy.” She leveled her gaze at me. “Which I still hope he is not.”
“I’m not,” I said, my heart sinking even further at the cold looks that she and Sal gave me. After all we’d been through, it felt nearly as bad as losing family. Well, as bad as losing Mort, at least.
I reached out to take the spirit trap, and heard Kaminari’s voice cackling from it, “Revenge is mine. On your bones they’ll dine!”
I flinched back, but too late. My fingers brushed the amulet as it swung toward me, and there was a burst of energy like an ultraviolet camera flash. I felt Kaminari’s mad jorõgumo spirit pouring into me, expanding my spiritual energy in a rush as it burned away to fuel a summoning spell.
The faun holding the amulet screamed.
His spirit began tearing from his body, pulled into the spirit trap, into the vacuum created as Kaminari’s spirit was destroyed—as I consumed Kaminari’s spirit, willing or not.
And I became more willing than not. I couldn’t help myself. It felt as close to perfect ecstasy as I’d ever experienced, and my body welcomed it like a drink of water after days in the desert. My knees went wobbly, and I fell back onto my butt, laughing uncontrollably.
I realized that there was an easy solution, that nobody outside this chamber needed to learn about what I’d done to Dunngo. That if I consumed enough of Silene’s little henchfauns, I would have enough power to make the rest of them do whatever I wanted. And then together, so perfectly united, we could surely destroy our enemies. I could keep them all safe. And wasn’t that what they really wante—
Something hit me on the back of the head, and I slumped forward, falling into an abyss of mixed pleasure and pain as the flow of spirit energy abruptly cut off.
9
BEEN CAUGHT STEALING
I woke on hard cold stone, my head propped up on something soft. Opening my eyes felt like a bad idea on multiple levels, so I kept them closed. At least I wasn’t dead, though the pain in my head and sudden wave of nausea made me think that sometimes, dead is better.
I realized that my head was not on a pillow, but on Dawn’s legs. Not because I could feel them, but because I could feel her spiritual energy. I felt hollowed out, and dulled; but my body, my spirit, had a weird sort of lifting sensation, a yearning in the direction of Dawn, as if urging me toward her. I could practically taste her spirit, my body aching in anticipation of the rush of energy it would bring when—
I blin
ked up at her as she looked down at me, a worried expression on her face.
I raised my head to try and move away from her, from the pull of her spirit. I was still in the brightbloods’ hidden basement. Dizziness made the crystal-walled chamber seem to spin though, and my head sank back down. I hadn’t spotted anyone else I knew, just a couple of grim-looking fauns standing guard between the support columns. I heard one leave, probably to inform Silene I’d survived and was ready to be stoned to death. “What happened?” I asked.
“How are you feeling?” Dawn said.
“I feel like the Nothing has consumed my insides,” I replied.
“Well then, Princess, let me give you a new name,” Dawn replied. “How does … Ignacio P. Humpledinker sound?”
“I think it sounds like you’re avoiding my original question. What happened with Pete, and Sammy? Why don’t I have a bad case of sword-in-the-chest right now?”
Dawn sighed. “Well, for starters, the faun survived, though he didn’t look good, otherwise you might be less alive-ish than you are now. But Sammy started choking and had to use her EpiPen—”
“Frak! Is she okay?”
“Okay, and pissed off. And—”
Sammy’s voice cut across the chamber, “Pissed off doesn’t begin to cover it.”
I sat up with a moan and some help from Dawn as Sammy, Pete, Vee, Silene, and Sal all stalked toward me.
Gods, this was not going to be pretty. And I did not feel up to a confrontation just then, or defending myself intelligently. I felt irritable, twitchy, tired. But I had to try. I looked at Silene. “That wasn’t me who attacked your faun. It was a booby trap of some kind, or—”
“We know,” Silene said. “Your sister and brother have sworn before a luduan that there was power at work beyond your own. And even were you foolish enough to risk your own life to attack us, I still do not believe you would risk the lives of your family.”
“I really wouldn’t,” I said. “I’d give my own life for Petey, or Sammy.”
Pete just looked miserable and avoided my eyes, but Sammy said, “You idiot, you may have done exactly that. What do you think will happen if the ARC or Fey find out what you did?”
“Pretty much the same as I expected from Silene,” I said, and looked at the dryad. “Exile, or death.”
“For my part, it remains exile,” Silene said.
I sighed. “I know I have no right to ask, but please reconsider. This is exactly what my grandfather—what Grayson—probably wanted.” The truth of it hit me even as I said it, and I felt anger kindle in my gut at the full implication of it. “Why else send you the amulet? He’s trying to break us apart so we don’t work together to stop him.” Was that why Reggie had been targeted as well? And it made me wonder too at Mort’s sudden decision to kick me out, coming so soon after a visit from enforcers. Had they been Arcanites? Had they goaded Mort into that action? Son of a bitch!
Sal grunted. “Badbright mage-men not the ones who destroyed Dunngo.”
The anger flared up, and I pushed myself to my feet, the sudden wave of nausea making me even more irritated. “Damn it, you were there, Sal. So were you Silene, and Pete. What would you have done to save your loved ones from Kaminari’s torture? I saw you, ready to kill. So don’t get all self-righteous on me now.”
“Finn,” Dawn said, putting a hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off violently.
“No. Most of you would be dead if not for me. You all tried to save each other. I just happened to be the only one with the power to do it.”
Sammy said in a flat tone, “That kind of power never leads to good, Finn, you know that.”
“Yeah?” I said. “So you’re saying it would have been good if Pete died and that crazy jorõgumo had lived? You know what? Forget this. I don’t need this hypocrisy.”
I took two angry steps toward the space between Pete and Sammy, intending to storm out, but the cavern spun and I found myself on my knees, throwing up.
“Jesus,” Dawn said, rushing to my side.
“Get Heather,” Sammy said. “Please. I think he has a concussion.”
As I passed out, I did my best not to fall face first into my own mess.
* * *
I woke to find Pete carrying me through the woods, cradling me on my back across his arms. Above us, through the dark silhouettes of tree branches and far from any city lights, the black of night was fuzzed out by the sheer number of visible stars, as if an irradiated Ally Sheedy had rubbed her hair over a black sheet.
I stared up at them in half-conscious blissfulness. Given the number of planets, it was a certainty life must exist somewhere else out there. I wondered if they, too, had breached the barriers between our universe and the Other Realm. In our world, the early Fey had taken their shape from the dreams, fears, and thoughts of the first humans who ventured into the Other Realm. What shapes might the dreams and fears of an alien take?
Then I frowned, trying to remember how I could have possibly gotten into this odd situation, floating along watching the stars, and whether this was another dream. But it was not. And memories returned in a rush—the spirit trap, the dead faun, Silene exiling me from the steading. Me throwing a fit.
“You’re not going to toss me off a cliff or anything are you?” I asked Pete.
His face darkened. “Do you think I would?”
I felt like an asshole. “I’m sorry Petey. Just—Where are we going?”
Dawn’s voice said from behind Pete, “Back to the car.”
Sammy added, “And to a place where I can finally do something about Fatima, hopefully.”
“You can put me down, I feel okay,” I said. And I did, at least as far as the headache and spins went. I still felt like every cell in my body thirsted for more spiritual energy, the dull ache of it like exhaustion. And the hurt of Sal and Silene turning their backs on me, of my family’s disappointment and judgment, came flooding back into my heart.
Pete shook his head. “Heather said to let you rest. So I’m going to let you rest.”
“I don’t want to tire you out or anything,” I said.
“It’s okay. You’re not heavy,” Pete replied.
And whether he intended it or not, I heard the phrase “you’re my brother” after that. Tears welled in my eyes, but I blinked them away and just said, “Thank you. I was afraid you weren’t talking to me again.”
Pete stayed silent for a minute as he carried me along the dirt path between the tall fir and pine trees without any apparent effort. Finally, he said, “I used to think I was a waerwolf because you told me I was, back before I was one. And I told everyone you were not a dark necromancer, even though everyone told me you were. And then I found out that you lied to me about being a waerwolf. But then I became one for real. And then I found out you really did do dark necromancy. And—it’s all very confusing. But it feels like you lie to me a lot.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Pete. But I didn’t do any of that to hurt you, or anybody. I was trying to help.”
From somewhere behind Pete, Sammy muttered in her sarcastic tone, “So say missionaries and invading armies.”
“And when they say that,” I replied, irritation flaring, “it’s because they’re trying to get something, acting on some kind of master plan. I didn’t plan on having to choose between destroying Kaminari or watch my brother be killed. I didn’t plan to cause any of this.”
“You never have a plan,” Sammy retorted. “You’ve always had your head in the clouds, designing games, reading books—for jeebus sake, starting a dating service! Maybe if you paid a little more attention to what was going on around you, and had some kind of plan, you wouldn’t just keep falling into trouble and dragging your whole family along with you.”
“What’s wrong with my dating service?” I asked, surprised, but before Sammy could reply, Dawn jumped in.
“I get you’re upset and all, Sam, but maybe back off on Finn a bit. He’s doing the best he can, and what’s going on is not his fault.�
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“Whatever,” Sammy replied. “Meanwhile, Fatima’s in some ARC prison and we just wasted a whole lot of time thanks to Finn doing the best he can. Excuse me.” She pushed past Pete, and a faun hurried to follow her.
As they turned around a bend in the hillside, Dawn said, “She’s just upset about Fatima.”
“I know,” I replied as Dawn pushed past us and sped up to talk with Sammy.
Upset was actually too mild a word. Sammy was one of the most even-tempered people I knew, dealing with most problems and crises with the calm of a robot. She thrived on solving problems, which is probably what made her so good with computers. So for her to be snapping at me and showing her emotions like this, she had to be near hysterical levels of upsettedness.
* * *
“I don’t like it, either,” Pete said softly.
“Don’t like what?” I asked.
“The dating service.”
“What? Why?”
“Before, when you were gone, me and Mattie helped Mort with the family business. But now, you’re back, and I’m a—” his voice choked to a stop, and he squeezed my arm and leg where he held me a little too tightly. “And you have the special gift, the same gift as Mother, and you don’t even want to use it, you act like it’s bad, and yet you went and used dark necromancy—you should just be helping Mort more, that’s all.”
I didn’t bother to tell him about Mort’s kicking me out. That would only upset him more and, really, wasn’t the point anyway. I understood why he was upset.
As a brightblood now—a being of our world merged with some form of Fey spirit—Pete was not allowed to have or use his arcana gifts. The Arcana Ruling Council had essentially neutered Pete’s ability to use magic, and blocked his memories of his necromancer training. The PAX Arcana—the truce between arcana in this world and the Fey of the Other Realm—had established peace between the two worlds, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t still a cold war going on, and constant plotting to gain the upper hand. A brightblood who could also use arcana magic was not something either side wanted, at least not openly and not without absolute certainty of the brightblood’s loyalty.
Smells Like Finn Spirit Page 9