Fairy-Struck

by Amy Sumida

  Kappas, a type of Japanese fairy with bowl shaped depressions in the top of their heads, darted through the legs of massive oni, a sort of Japanese ogre with wild hair and horns growing out of their heads. These particular oni were of the red-skinned variety and the kappas, who ranged from green to yellow, showed up brightly against the crimson background. The little kappas, about the size of a six-year-old child, had metal caps on their heads to protect the water they needed to keep in those head bowls all the time. A vulture swooped by one and the kappa snapped at the bird with its own wide, turtle-like beak.

  The vulture alighted in front of the kappa and transformed into a tall man with impressive, gray wings. He set his burning eyes on the little fairy and smoke began to drift from his fingers. The kappa let out a squeak and ran away, a hand protectively on the top of his cap. The vulture-man, who I determined to be a djinn, smoothed the lapels of his tailored suit and smiled with satisfaction. I looked away quickly, knowing better than to catch his interest.

  Black furred pukas roamed freely about, sniffing for scraps around the tables, and when one passed by me, I jerked away. It paused to growl a warning in my direction before moving on. Then a nuckelavee sauntered by and I forgot all about the pukas. Outside the members of the Sluagh, the nuckelavee were the most horrifying things in the Fairy Realm. Technically, it was a sea fairy and it was always a little wet, though not from water.

  It was mostly horse-like in appearance, though its legs ended in flippers which smacked the stone floor like wet towels as it walked. It had one fiery eye in the center of its forehead, a mouth full of dagger sharp teeth, and no skin. That's right, it was skinless, its black blood showing clearly through custard-yellow veins which webbed over slick, crimson muscles and around snow-white sinews. But that wasn't even the worst of it. Rising from its back, attached at the waist, was the torso of a man. It had a featureless face on its bulbous head, which was so big that it rolled side to side as if its neck were too weak to support it. There were no legs to it, like I said, it was just a torso attached to the horse's waist, but it had arms so long, they almost dragged the ground. The nuckelavee shifted its one eye in my direction and I shivered.

  I'd seen most of these fairies before but some, like the nuckelavee, I'd only read about and seeing them in the flesh, some with more flesh than others, was disconcerting to say the least. A shellycoat goblin, with his layers of shells worn like armor over his chest, clattered by, shooting me a wide smile.

  “Come now,” Bress angled me through the mass of lesser fey and over to the throng of sidhe near the dais. One of the benefits of being sidhe was a better seat at dinner and the tables closest to the dais were reserved for them.

  It was a perfect example of the elitism Torquil had displayed and it made me realize that no such segregation was shown in the Twilight Court. There the fey, lesser and sidhe, had mingled together and despite Torquil's attitude, that mingling gave me hope. Perhaps the twilight sidhe would be more receptive to change than their unseelie cousins.

  As we headed forward, I peered up at the ceiling, where beautiful women with porcelain skin sat on the wooden cross beams. They swung their legs like children, smiling down at me sweetly. I watched as one of them stroked her long, talon-tipped fingers through her shining blonde hair, arranging the curls carefully over her slight breasts. Then I glanced at the nuckelavee. So that was why they were up in the rafters, the white women were afraid of horses. Though honestly, who wouldn't be afraid of a nuckelavee?

  The white women, also known as baobhan-sith, were the real inspiration behind tales of vampires. They lured men in with their beauty and then attacked with those claws, puncturing a hole in the neck of their victims, which they would drink from. I knew about their fear of horses because I had studied the baobhan. I'd studied every fairy the humans knew of and I'd also studied their weaknesses. So I wouldn't let them scare me. I was an Extinguisher and I'd been trained to kill them. They could smile at me all they wanted and I would simply smile back.

  “Bring my niece here,” Uisdean called from his gigantic throne.

  The throne was carved from obsidian and polished to look like glass. Uisdean sat in it casually, one arm draped over the table in front of him, while he sipped from a goblet of wine. At least I hoped it was wine. The wall behind him was covered in black, thorny, thick vines and hanging from them was a banner with a device embroidered on it, just like the one in the twilight castle. Except this device had a silver moon instead of a star and the background was completely black.

  Bress led me up the steps to the long table, which only Uisdean and one woman were seated at. The woman set dark gray eyes on me like I was a mosquito to be slapped and brushed away. She was overly thin, almost to the point of emaciation, and her bone-white hair was piled in elaborate curls atop her head. Her skin was as pale as her hair and there was something about the shape of her eyes that reminded me of Keir. She held her hand out to Bress as we neared.

  “Mother,” he bowed over the woman's hand and kissed the air above her claw-like fingers.

  “My son,” she nodded. Her voice was the barest breath of sound, like it was too much effort for her to speak. “Set the half-breed down and come sit by me.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Bress pulled out a chair on Uisdean's right and I slid into it. Then he crossed behind Uisdean and the woman, to sit on his mother's left.

  I gave a sigh of relief.

  “You prefer me to your betrothed?” Uisdean asked with a wry grin. “How surprising.”

  “He's my cousin not my betrothed,” I hissed, “and if you think you can force me to speak vows to him, you are sorely mistaken.”

  “We'll see,” he smiled brightly and poured some wine into a crystal goblet in front of me. “Drink, it'll help relax you.”

  “No thanks,” I smiled back at him. “I'm good.”

  “Not that good,” Uisdean's face went malicious for a moment. “Moire may have given you a reprieve from Bress but as soon as the evening's pleasantries are over, you will be reunited and it looks as if he's already anticipating the reunion.” He cast a glance over at Bress, who was staring at me intensely.

  “I'm sure we'll have lots of fun together,” I grinned brightly. “Hey, just for future reference, Bress isn't anyone's heir, is he?”

  “What do you mean?” Uisdean narrowed his eyes on me.

  “I just wanted to know if I could kill him without bringing the Sluagh down upon my head?” I twisted my lips into a smile. “But then again, I've dealt with the Sluagh before... twice. They're not so bad.”

  As if everyone had been listening to my conversation, the entire hall went quiet and all eyes turned toward me. Not at all creepy. And I wasn't quite sure what had got their attention. Was it the fact that I had threatened Bress or that I'd faced the Sluagh and lived? I mean, didn't they already know that last bit?

  “You sent the Sluagh after her?” Moire's breathy voice was loud in the silence.

  Hmmm, maybe they didn't know.

  “I had no knowledge of the Sluagh hunting Princess Seren,” Uisdean's tone made the statement into a lie.

  “Twice?” Bress asked, his eyes glittering.

  “I imagine that if someone were able to injure the Sluagh, the Cursed Ones would make a second attempt to kill her,” Uisdean said airily.

  “You injured the Sluagh?” Bress' eyes went wide as a slow smile spread over his face.

  “And she lived,” Moire's voice went even softer, so I had to strain to hear her. “Maybe she'll make you a good wife after all.”

  “I told you she was lovely, Mother,” Bress looked at me like I was a new toy he couldn't wait to play with.

  “I'm not really into incestuous relationships but thanks for the compliment,” I said to Bress before refocusing on Uisdean. “So? Is he anyone's heir or not?”

  “Not,” Uisdean finally answered. “But he is my favorite nephew and although you wouldn't be facing the Sluagh, you'd still have to deal with my wrath.”

  �
��I think I already have to deal with that,” I shrugged and he frowned.

  “You will not be facing either Uncle Uisdean or the Sluagh, Princess Seren,” Bress leaned over to speak across his mother and his Uncle... our Uncle. “I am the only one you will be dealing with and I welcome any challenge you may present but I assure you, I will be the victor. By morning, you will be on your knees.”

  “Only if I'm kneeling over your dead body,” I looked at Uisdean as I answered and he frowned deeper.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The entertainments of the Unseelie Court would haunt me forever. Oh they danced, drank, and made merry like they did in the Twilight Court but their merriment consisted of several rounds of rather inventive torture, inflicted on captured seelie fairies. Since the fey were immortal, torture could continue almost endlessly as long as they gave their victims time to heal, and there were fairies there who had a blank, hopeless look to them that spoke of years of such treatment.

  By the end of the night, I was staring into my lap, trying to drown out the sounds that seemed to echo in my ears, with the deep, tremulous breaths I was taking. My eyes were rapidly blinking back tears and my throat was constricted from holding down my screams. My skin ran hot and cold, as if trying decide whether to be terrified or angry. The smell of blood was an undertone to burnt flesh and hair, and I was a step away from throwing up all over their feast.

  “There is no feast without cruelty,” Uisdean whispered into my ear.

  “I don't think this was what Nietzsche meant when he said that,” I shot back, earning a surprised smile from him.

  “Poetry,” he waved his hands expansively. “Just as I said in your dream, words can have so many meanings.”

  “Nietzsche was a philosopher not a poet,” I ground out.

  “I think most philosophers have the souls of poets,” he smirked, “but that is... what's the human expression? Next to the point?”

  “Besides the point,” I ground out.

  “Yes,” he smiled in delight. “Words again, so lovely. It is besides the point because Nietzsche was a poet and also a composer.”

  “What?” I blinked, totally unprepared for this fairy to know more than I did about a human.

  “I don't believe Nietzsche would be as offended by our feast as you are,” Uisdean mused. “I think he would agree with me when I say; you're letting your slave morality cloud your reason.”

  “My what?!” I gaped at him.

  “I apologize,” he blinked. “I thought you'd read Nietzsche.”

  “I have,” I frowned and then remembered what he was referring to. “The master slave morality,” I gave a huff. “Right, but again, this is a bit extreme for that. Just because I don't want people tortured, doesn't make me a slave moralist.”

  “You're responding to our treatment of enemies we have under our control,” he cocked his head at me, not even flinching when a woman screamed in the background. “This, according to the human Nietzsche, is a slave morality, propagated by Christianity, which is a religion of the slaves. Master morality values pride, nobility, strength, and power. Good or bad are determined by the consequences of your actions. The end result. Slave morality values kindness, humility, and sympathy,” he said the words with a sneer. “Good and bad are determined by intention.”

  “Yes, I know what you meant now,” I rolled my eyes. “No need for the philosophy lesson.”

  “I merely point it out because I want to know why you seem to be aligning yourself with the slaves when you should behave like a master,” he looked genuinely interested.

  “I'm neither,” I growled. “I'm an American.”

  “It wasn't so long ago that Americans owned slaves,” he lifted a brow.

  “Yeah alright, that's valid,” I sighed. “But we don't anymore.”

  “Yes, because now America is a good Christian Nation,” he chuckled, “valuing humility and justice against oppression. Sacrifice for the greater good.”

  “First of all,” I turned fully to him so I could point my finger in his face because that's what you do when you're annoyed with a fairy king. “We are a Nation founded on the right of religious freedom, not only the right to be Christian.”

  “Freedom, another slave ideal,” he laughed and batted away my finger like it was a fly

  “Are you kidding me?” I gaped at him. “As if you'd want to be enslaved?”

  “I can never be enslaved,” he said in a low, dangerous tone. “I am a master. I'm powerful and I value that power. I value the consequences actions have, like how the seelie will fear us more when they hear how their people screamed beneath our blades. How they will recoil from me and mine because of that fear. How me and my dark host will become the food of their nightmares. This, you naive child,” he waved a hand out at the torture, “is a king protecting his people and you have no right to sit here in judgment of it.”

  “Wow,” I whispered. “You actually believe this is justified. You think this is noble.”

  “Consequences,” he nodded. “Slaves worry about intentions but I am a king. I must weigh the costs and make the hard decisions so that I can get the result I want. If you thought less like a slave and more like a queen, you would see it too. As much as I despise your human blood, you are half sidhe and that half is from a powerful line. You'd do well to claim that power instead of sitting here, whimpering about the way I use mine.”

  “I told you,” I snapped, “I'm neither slave nor master. I value strength as well as kindness, power as well as humility, and intention as well as consequence.”

  “Impossible,” he shook his head. “You cannot have it both ways.”

  “Is it impossible?” I narrowed my eyes on him. “Aren't you telling me that you intend to protect your people? I admit, I see that as good but if you're honest with yourself as well as with me, you'll admit that you also enjoy this. That those screams are music for you and the blood pooling on your pretty floor is turning you on. That, is not so good.”

  “Yes,” he was suddenly cheek to cheek with me, his hand holding my face still so he could whisper in my ear. “I am enjoying this. The blood. The pain. The screams. It makes my own blood surge with excitement. It makes me feel strong and victorious and I will probably spend the rest of the evening between the legs of several women. This is our way, the master morality. We know that pleasure is always good, especially if you find it along the path to a happy consequence. Now,” he pulled back so he could look into my eyes. “Stop teasing me, little girl or the legs I spread shall be yours and we'll find out just who is the master and who is a slave.”

  “You're sick,” I whispered as he released me, “and an evil bastard.”

  “Words,” he shrugged and smiled, carefree once more.

  “True words,” I muttered.

  I was almost relieved when Bress came to escort me back to my room. I don't know how much more of Uisdean's witty repartee I could take.

  As we left the hall, one of our goblin guards grabbed a tortured seelie woman from where she was cowering on the floor and drug her along behind us. I was troubled and confused by her presence until I saw the large wooden contraption that had been constructed in the middle of the bedroom while we were at dinner. Then I began to understand.

  “What are you doing?” I asked as Bress took the fragile looking fairy from the goblin and lashed one of her wrists to each of the poles; poles which were set into a sturdy bloodstained base. Once the fairy was handed off, the goblins left, closing the door behind them with smug, backwards glances.

  The seelie was completely nude, her clothing had been ripped away much earlier in the evening. She had pale golden skin which had already been cut in numerous places by razor sharp obsidian blades. Her thin arms dangled pitifully from the thick ropes and her legs buckled beneath her. On her back was a pair of delicate wings, translucently shimmering peony pink and pea pod green. There were dark brown veins running through them, like dragonfly wings but thicker. One wing was broken and hanging useless at her si
de but the other flopped frantically as if it could carry her away all by itself. She turned huge, chartreuse, frightened eyes to me, her identically colored hair falling lankly around her face.

  “I asked you what you're doing with that fairy?” I strode forward and Bress backhanded me.

  The attack took me by surprise, so I ended up on the floor but I wasn't there for long. I kicked out at his knee and then jumped to my feet to face him.

  Thunder rumbled through the room, shaking the stone beneath my feet, and I shot a surprised look around me as dark clouds gathered above us. Damn weather magic, I scowled up at the clouds. It was unpredictable and vicious. Which meant I needed to be the same to combat it.

  I charged Bress before he could do anything with that burgeoning storm, knocking him to the ground. With my knees digging into his thighs, I began to punch him over and over. It was going pretty well until a lightning bolt hit me in the chest and sent me reeling back.

  While my body stiffened and shook through the jolts of electricity coursing through it, Bress picked me up and threw me on the bed. I was helpless to stop him as he closed the manacles around my wrists and when I did recover, I was locked up tight. He undid his belt and then pulled off his beautiful blue tunic, so that he stood there clad only in pants. His chest was perfect, as well muscled as any model, but it disgusted me. He disgusted me. That disgust increased as I watched him pull a whip from the chest at the foot of the bed. He began to use it expertly on the poor fairy.

  “Stop!” I screamed at him. “What do you want? Just tell me what you want and stop hurting her.”

  “Oh, sweet Seren,” he smiled and wiped the blood from his lips. “You'd best get used to this. This is the only way to arouse me enough to perform. I normally torture my lovers first but since you're heir to a fairy throne and I can't kill you, I'd rather not take the chance. So this fairy will take your place and you will be spared most of my brutality. You should be grateful.”

  “Grateful?” I gaped at him.