by John Conroe
“Stocan, I didn’t ask for tea,” Ashley said, frowning.
“You always have tea at night. I took the initiative and prepared it when you left the banquet,” the tall elf said. His skin was lighter than the elves of Winter but more brown than tan, and his hair was the color of wheat. His eyes were a gemlike hazel. Like all the elves Mack had seen so far, his age was impossible to tell.
“You were saying that Declan is correct, Mr. Stocan?” Stacia asked.
The tall, slender elf nodded as he set his tray down on the blonde wood coffee table and began to pour mugs of tea. The city might be made of cold white stone, but the apartment was all natural woods, colorful rugs, and tapestries. The little table was a work of art.
“It’s just Stocan, miss. But yes, your friend is entirely correct. The queens, and to a lesser extent, their princesses, are bound to their realms. The land feeds them its power in unimaginable amounts. Within their lands, they are like goddesses. But, here, the land is unbound and Morrigan and her sister are much reduced,” he said.
“It’s the reason Idiria was built here.”
“Would the dragons be a match for the queens if they were in their realms?” Mack asked.
“The queens hold power that none of us…” Stocan paused, his eyes flicking across each of them, “—most of us cannot fathom.” Stocan’s gaze had hit everyone equally, except Declan, who he had slid right over. “But dragons have a natural resistance to what you call magic. Their very skin is armor and their breath is a weapon. Past battles have always ended without a winner but with many losers.”
“So Zinnia and Morrigan aren’t so tough here in Idiria?” Jetta asked.
“They remain more than a match for most,” Stocan said, “but yes, they are diminished.”
“You are not usually this… forthcoming, Stocan,” Ian said. “I wonder what is different tonight?”
The elf calmly met Ian’s eyes and nodded slowly. “Your words are truth. Idirians are not to take sides… for the most part.”
“And yet…” Ian prompted.
The slender elf drew a breath and straightened. Then he turned from Ian and faced Declan, who was still sitting on the cushion. He gave the young man a short, sharp bow. “With a banquet of this nature, the senior administrators of Idiria always attend. It is our preference that they be placed far from either queen, and now that we have one again, the Speaker. The leaders of our city were seated under the dragon’s perch, that being the farthest distance from the table of notables. Your intervention saved our senior-most people,” he said. Drawing a breath, he finished, “My spouse was among those seated. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Speaker?”
“Of course, Stocan,” Ashley said.
The elf bowed to her, nodded to Declan and then the others, and disappeared back out the archway. A moment later, the sound of the apartment door clicking shut reached all their ears.
“I should have heard him sooner,” Stacia said.
Ashley waved her off and turned to her father. “Was that what I thought it was?” she asked.
Ian looked extremely thoughtful. Then he nodded slowly. “Yes. Yes it was,” he said.
“What was it?” Mack asked.
“Stocan just acknowledged a debt to Declan,” Ashley said.
“Um, I think it’s more than that,” Ian said. “By stopping the stone from crushing the table, you protected the city’s leaders. There are now a whole lot of white-dressed elves who owe you a debt of honor.”
“And that’s in our favor, right?” Jetta asked.
“Yes, the city’s permanent residents don’t take sides. They’re like the Swiss—neutral. But Stocan just acknowledged an honor debt, something they take extremely seriously. Many others, including the people at that table, will feel the same way,” Ian said. “But there are even more who have ties to either of the two realms.”
“How do we use that, Mr. Moore?” Jetta asked.
“We’ll have to think on that very carefully, Jetta. There are still a lot of unanswered questions,” he said.
“Speaking of unanswered questions, you never explained how you knew the queens weren’t connected to this land?” Stacia asked, turning back to Declan.
Her witch went still, his face smoothing to blankness. Mack knew his roommate well enough to know he was struggling with how to answer her. He suspected that Declan was considering lying, but that wasn’t an option with a wolf girl who could literally smell the truth.
Finally, the lanky youth frowned and took a breath. “It told me,” he said.
“What told you, D?” Stacia pressed.
“The land. This land. It told me it was not bound to the elves or to anyone else,” he said.
“When did it do that?” she asked.
“The moment I set foot on this world,” he replied.
“Why? How?” Ashley asked.
“In my head,” he said.
“Like with actual words?” Ashley asked.
“No. Feelings. Impressions. I thought I was crazy,” he said.
“Shouldn’t you tell me if you’re going crazy?” Stacia asked. “Isn’t that our agreement?”
“Yes, but I was disoriented from the portal and then we were on the dragon and then here and rushing around for the dinner and well…” he trailed off.
“Those are just excuses. You should have told me of these feelings,” Stacia said.
Mack felt as confused as the rest of them looked. “Why does he have to tell you about feeling wacky?” he asked, earning himself a cold look from the werewolf.
“Because I’m too dangerous to just be allowed to go crazy,” Declan said. “So we agreed that she would help me monitor anything wacky. I was supposed to keep her apprised of how I felt. Which I did do with regard to the raw power of this world, but I think…” he trailed off.
“Yes? You think what?” Stacia prompted, arms crossed.
“I think I lied to myself that it was just a side effect of the power overload,” he said.
“That makes sense,” Jetta said, earning her own cold stare. “What? He’s supposed to know that the land is attempting a conversation?” she asked.
“Who else is better qualified to know?” Stacia asked.
“Well, I didn’t. Not right away. But it’s been there, all day, persistent,” Declan said.
“Okay, so the land is trying to get your attention. Why?” Ashley asked, frowning.
“I’m not certain yet. It’s like it wants something,” Declan said. “But I don’t know what.”
“Okay. Tell me as you feel things. Maybe I can help you figure it out,” Stacia said.
“So what happens if he feels he’s going crazy?” Ashley asked, looking at Stacia.
“I help him not,” the blonde said evenly.
“What does that mean?” Ashley asked, voice rising.
Before Stacia, who was now starting to look angry, could respond, Declan jumped in.
“Do you know what happens when an LV virus-infected person Changes for the first time?” he asked Ashley.
“Well, yeah. We learned about this at Arcane. Instincts, pain, and sensory overload overwhelm them. It’s why they need a pack and an alpha to help them,” Jetta said before Ashley could.
“And how does an alpha were help?” Delcan asked, turning to Mack’s sister.
“Matthew explained it. They can form a bond that lets them dull the pain and overload and calm the instincts,” Jetta said, illumination spreading across her face as she turned to Stacia and Declan. “But you’re not a wolf and Stacia’s not an alpha?”
“She kinda is. If she were in a regular pack, she would rise to alpha very quickly. But her position is… irregular. And while I’m not a were, her inner wolf picked me as her mate, so we have a connection,” Declan said.
“That’s why she touches you. To calm you, right?” Jetta asked. “Like when Neeve was pushing your buttons at the portal stone.”
“Pretty much,” Declan agreed.
“About that,” Ia
n said. “You need to be very careful around Neeve. She’s one of the most dangerous fighters I’ve ever witnessed.”
“Yeah, I know. You were there when she stabbed me with that living blade of hers,” Declan said.
“She what?” Stacia asked, eyes turning yellow.
“Not a full stab, but it had some repercussions,” Declan said. “I kinda Tasered her back, but Ashley got between us before we could get into it.”
“And you didn’t fry her on the spot?” Stacia asked. “Oh, wait. Is that how you got infected with Sorrow? Her blade punched through it?”
“Yes, when nothing else would even scratch it, so Mr. Moore has a valid point. I won’t try to go hand-to-hand with someone who’s been practicing her fighting arts for a thousand years. I’ll just stand off and blast her,” Declan said.
“She’s Morrigan’s daughter. She has powers here, especially when she’s in her mother’s lands,” Ian said.
“So do I. But tell me, how do her Frost blades react to steel?” Declan asked.
“It burns them, but she’s so fast with them that the contact time is minimal. You’ll never touch her with that tomahawk,” Ian said.
“Who said anything about a tomahawk?” Declan said, shifting his ever-handy magic messenger bag, which clinked. Metallically.
“He’s got steel balls,” Mack said. When he saw the smirks that came his way, he sighed and waited for the comments.
“Wow, you two have gotten to be close roommates, huh?” Jetta teased.
Stacia arched one eyebrow at first Mack and then Declan, who simply shrugged. “Look at him. He’s a catch for any guy,” Declan said, turning to Mack, trying to keep his face serious. “So cute.”
Stacia widened her eyes a tiny bit and then turned to give Mack a full appraisal before she started nodding. “Yes, he is. You’ll have to guard him from all the elf boys and girls though,” she said.
Mack flipped them all off.
“I always thought Neeve was your bodyguard?” Jetta asked Ashley.
“That is a role she played when Ashley was first named as Speaker. A gesture by Morrigan to curry favor with the dragons. We didn’t trust the Winter Court, but Zinnia’s people had killed my parents, so they weren’t getting anywhere near Ashley,” Ian said. “Now that full negotiations with dragonkind are underway, neither Court can be trusted in such a role.”
“What about that Greer dude?” Mack asked.
“He’s… complicated,” Ian said. “He owes me an honor debt. They call it dettis onach. Pretty much what a goodly number of Idirians owe Declan.”
“Do you trust him?” Stacia asked.
“God no. His ideas for repaying the debt do not account for my wishes and desires. The Fae, which covers all of the races here on Fairie, are not human. They don’t think like humans and they don’t value humans. Don’t ever forget that,” Ian said. “Now, I’m headed for bed. The meetings start at the crack of dawn. We’ll work in shifts. Two on, two here, and one rotating. Mack and Jetta first. I’ll spell one of them, then Stacia will spell me, then Declan, and so on. The meetings go on all day. It’s going to be long, boring, and hard to stay alert, so bring your A games. Good night.”
Jetta and Ashley followed suit, heading to their joint room. Left with the two lovebirds, Mack felt very much a third wheel. He excused himself and headed to his own single room, leaving them together on the big floor pillows that stood in for couches here.
Chapter 8
Chris
Rome
Tanya and Nika had already grabbed the children and were heading toward the exit, even as I switched places with Lydia at the cell door. Inside, Stefano-thing was unfolding from the ground, and he looked different. His skin was dark, hard, and shiny looking, almost like he was covered in tiny, bumpy pyramids of black glass, and his eyes were entirely black.
“Tanya’s deductive leap is most likely correct to a certain degree. The exterior plating on the entity is some type of synthetic diamondoid varietal. Be prepared for a vastly different confrontation,” Omega said.
Motion high up on the walls inside caught my attention. Metallic somethings were forming in both places.
“Is that the machine’s work?” Senka asked, sounding like she was commenting on my choice of shoes while nodding toward the now-softball-sized robots.
“Yes, he’s assembling his soldiers,” I said. “Look out; here comes the alien.”
Stefano-thing was marching on the door like Arnold did in virtually all of his movies.
It pulled back one arm and slammed a punch at the steel door. Okay, more like through the steel door. The shiny black fist had popped through it like it was tissue paper.
“Oh my. He glitters like those ridiculous vampire wannabes in those God-awful movies,” Senka said. “Christian, I think he wants to kill your babies,” she suggested, backing away from the door, eyes wide, her mouth twitching.
Okay, a part of me understood she was manipulating me. That she had chosen her words like a surgeon chooses his scalpel. But most of me didn’t care that she was experimenting with Grim and me in the middle of a major problem. It didn’t matter, because ultimately she was right.
Grim took control and tore the remains of the door out of our way. Then I was through the door and pounding aura-wrapped fists into the hard, crystal thing in the room. It punched back and the hits hurt—at least as much as any impact registers as pain when Grim is in charge. But my skin and bones are tougher. According to Doc Singh, the vampire virus does its own little experimentation with carbon molecules. My skin absorbs impact and spreads the love around while my bones flex and spring when force is applied. Grim laughed with my voice.
My counterpunches slowed it—a little. The parts I hit seemed to dull and become a flat black… for about five seconds, before they healed or reactivated or whatever.
My own wounds, gashes, and cuts from diamond-sharp hands healed almost as fast. Most of those were on my arms and hands from blocking and hitting.
Grim is awesome at finding patterns and weaknesses in combat; Stefano-thing apparently not so much. We started to hit the same place over and over on his body, pounding his chest area and never letting it regain its shine. When the chest began to cave in, Grim switched from punches to aura-lined spear hand strikes and that’s when the black armor split apart. A deep pool of aura flared into my right fist as Grim pulled it back to strike. When it slammed into Stefano-thing, it went in deep and the pool of aura exploded from my hand, blasting outward through its torso.
The enemy stumbled and fell to its knees. Grim pulled us back to observe. The whole middle of the man-shaped creature appeared dead, but the head and limbs still moved. The body fell forward and the head came away from the torso, as did all four limbs. The dismembered parts kept moving, twisting and shifting about, starting to change.
Faster than seemed possible, the detached body parts began to morph into new, horrible shapes. Long, jointed limbs popped out of the head while a series of sharp little black legs burst into being along both sides of the arms. The fingers lengthened and sharpened and turned into carbon black fangs. The legs thinned and stretched out, starting to writhe and twist along the ground like snakes.
A quarter was suddenly in my right hand, plucked from the tiny coin pocket of my jeans. Grim tossed it and clapped, the resulting boom loud enough to shake the room. Spider head came apart as the jet of explosively formed metal blasted through it and carved a crater in the concrete floor.