“It shouldn’t be any of our fights.” I rubbed my tired eyes. “But I’m Hel’s liaison. I accepted that responsibility.”
“You didn’t have any idea it would lead to this,” she said quietly.
“No,” I said. “I don’t think Hel did, either. I don’t know if anyone did. Maybe the Norns.”
“As in the Norn who told you the fate of the world might hinge on your decisions?” Mom asked. “The Norn who told you to trust your heart?”
El Corazón, my heart.
“Yep.”
“And what does your heart tell you?” she asked.
I sighed. “It tells me I can’t back out of this responsibility. Especially not now, now that I’ve recruited practically the entire eldritch community. Other than that, nothing.”
Mom kissed my forehead. “Keep listening.”
Fifty
The Fairfax clan were the last significant members of the eldritch community to commit to the battle.
Cody stopped by the police station on his day off to tell me. “We’re in,” he said briefly. “Elders and adult singles only. No teenagers, no parents with small children.”
I nodded. “That’s more than fair. Does, um, that mean you’re including yourself among the fighters?”
“Yeah.” He raked a restless hand through his bronze hair. “You know, I was always afraid I’d have to make this choice someday. But one of the reasons I became a police officer was to be in a position to protect my clan.” He fished his badge out of his coat pocket. “Right now, I can’t do both. I have to choose one or the other. And I choose my clan.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You’re turning in your badge?”
Cody shrugged. “Better than waiting to get fired for disobeying orders, don’t you think?”
“Not really,” I said. “I was going with the whole ‘it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission’ thing.”
Cody gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, if we lose this war, I won’t have a home to return to, so the job doesn’t really matter, does it?” He shuddered. “God, it’s scary, Daise! Where would we go? You heard the wolves at the mixer. They’ve barely got room to breathe. The world’s getting too small for us.”
“I know,” I whispered. “Believe me, you’re not alone. It’s all that I’ve been hearing out there.”
Chief Bryant opened the door of his office and poked his head out. “Oh, good. Fairfax, a word? You, too, Daisy.”
Exchanging uncertain glances, Cody and I entered his office.
“Have a seat.” The chief gestured to a pair of empty chairs across from his desk, settling his bulk into his own chair. He laced his hands across his ample belly, regarding us with his heavy-lidded gaze. “You know, I’ve been thinking about that mermaid we rescued last summer. You remember the one?”
As if anyone could forget. “Yes, sir,” I said.
The chief cleared his throat. “Recent events have made it easy to, ah, lose sight of the fact that the nonhuman members of the community deserve the protection of our fine department, too.” He raised one thick finger. “Now, my hands are tied. The law is the law, and I’m sworn to enforce it.” Swiveling in his chair, he glanced at the calendar on the wall behind him. March 20, the first day of spring, was circled in red marker. It was three days away. “But I’m thinking it’s for the best if the two of you are put on administrative leave for the rest of the week.”
“So you’re saying . . . ?” I let the question dangle.
Chief Bryant leaned back, his desk chair creaking. “I’m saying I’m on your side, Daisy,” he said quietly. “There’s nothing I can do to help you, but I’ll try to stay out of your way as long as I can. And if Pemkowet survives this war, you’ll have jobs to come back to.”
It mattered more than I would have expected. A ragged half sob of gratitude escaped me. “Thank you, sir!”
Rising from his chair, Cody extended a hand across the chief’s desk. “I won’t forget this.”
Chief Bryant clasped his hand. “See that you don’t, son.”
Three days.
Three days.
Crap, they went so fast.
The news of the impending battle had spread throughout Pemkowet, and the mood in town was strained and sober. The initial exhilaration that Persephone’s offer had evoked had given way to a horrified seller’s remorse at the realization of the repercussions. Everywhere I went, people asked me what I thought was going to happen, and all I could do was say I didn’t know.
In an effort to get insight from the one person who might, I visited the library and asked the Sphinx for advice, but all she did was stare at me with those odd, luminous brown eyes of hers until I began twitching my tail with discomfort, at which point the Sphinx informed me that she’d already given me all the counsel I needed.
Right. Learn to see with the eyes of the heart. El Corazón again, no more helpful than before.
In a surprising show of support, Amanda Brooks agreed to let Hel’s ragtag army set up a base camp on the old Cavannaugh property, the wedge of undeveloped land adjacent to Little Niflheim that had been in her family for generations. Between the lawsuit and the purchase of Hel’s territory, Dufreyne hadn’t bothered to pursue the acquisition of the Cavannaugh property, no doubt confident that Amanda would be willing to accept a much lower offer once her slice of untrammeled wilderness was overshadowed by a hulking resort complex.
I hoped that was a decision he’d have cause to regret.
If nothing else, the campsite gave us a great vantage point. We set up our operation on a long ridge of dune dotted with cottonwood trees and gnarled jack pines, high above the basin from which Yggdrasil II emerged to pierce the heavens and tower above the landscape. The formidable figure of the hellhound Garm appeared and disappeared as he patrolled the area in a tireless circuit, padding on paws the size of tractor tires. Garm glanced up a few times when Stefan and I first scouted the place, but apparently it was at enough of a remove that the hellhound would tolerate our presence.
Hel’s army was a motley crew. Members of the Outcast arrived on modified dirt bikes and ATVs, armed with assault rifles; members of the Fairfax clan churned across the sand in Jeeps and pickup trucks, armed with hunting rifles and camping gear.
My bogle pal, Skrrzzzt, arrived on foot with half a six-pack of beer, armed with a baseball bat and a deck of playing cards. He got a game of poker going with Gus the ogre and the two trolls, who arrived armed with clubs. Mrs. Browne arrived armed with a broom and a basketful of fresh bread and pastries.
There were a number of hobgoblins who arrived and promptly disguised themselves as shrubs, so I never did get a head count.
There were fairies who came and went on whirring wings, scouting and reporting—Ellie the hellebore fairy, and some of the early spring flower fairies, crocuses and snowdrops and delicate blue hepatica.
The sight of so many members of the eldritch community in one place was wondrous and amazing. It made my heart ache with love and terror, because so many of them looked so goddamn vulnerable.
The campsite wasn’t without its tensions. As the leader of the Outcast, not to mention a six-hundred-year-old knight, Stefan had assumed command of the operation, which didn’t sit well with the Fairfax clan. With less than twenty-four hours before the first day of spring was upon us, those tensions erupted.
“I don’t care how many battles you’ve seen—you can’t tell a man to lay down his gun!” Elijah Fairfax snarled at Stefan. “And you sure as hell can’t tell a wolf pack how to hunt!” Other members of the clan uttered low growls of assent.
Stefan’s eyes glittered. “The only access road across Hel’s territory leads them there.” He pointed to the far side of the vast bowl. “And right now, we don’t know for a surety what kind of army we’re facing. We don’t know whether you’ll be of more use as humans or wolves.”
“He’s right,” Cody said unexpectedly. “If we cache our weapons in the woods behind their lines, we can shift, retriev
e them, and flank the enemy.”
Cody’s uncle rounded on him. “You’d take orders from a ghoul over the head of your clan?”
Cody stood his ground, his upper lip curling. “I’ve had a bellyful of your orders, Uncle Elijah,” he said grimly. “But that’s got nothing to do with it. This isn’t a hunt and it’s a hell of a lot bigger than any police action I’ve seen. It’s a goddamn war, and Ludovic understands tactics.”
“To a point. No one has ever seen such a war.” Stefan deferred to me. “Hel’s liaison, ultimately the choice of who commands here is yours.”
God, that was a responsibility I didn’t want. I looked back and forth between Stefan and Cody. “Can the two of you work together?”
Stefan inclined his head to me. “Yes.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Cody reminded me.
That was true. I owed my life to the two of them working together. “Co-commanders, then.” I turned to Elijah Fairfax and the other werewolves. “And we can’t afford any of that hierarchical bullshit. Not now. I don’t care if Cody’s not the head of the clan. He’s right. You’re not hunting deer on the back forty here. Cody’s a trained cop with good instincts, and I want you to follow his orders. Understand?”
Elijah muttered something into his beard.
I laid my hand on dauda-dagr’s hilt. “As Hel’s liaison, I’m asking you a question. Do you understand?”
His eyes flashed green. “Yes.”
I relaxed. “Good.”
“Daise?” Cody cleared his throat. “Speaking of Hel, it would be really helpful if we knew what Little Niflheim’s plans were so we could coordinate with their efforts. Can you find out?”
“I planned to make the same suggestion,” Stefan agreed, glancing toward the basin. “It is difficult to know how we may proceed while the hellhound menaces friend and foe alike.”
It was a good point.
“I need to pick up a few things from home,” I said. “If Hel doesn’t summon me herself, I’ll request an audience.”
It was Cooper who gave me a ride back to my car, which was parked on the unpaved access road that led to the old Cavannaugh property. I held tight to the sissy bar affixed to the back of his dirt bike as we jounced over the loose, sandy terrain. “Go and fetch what you need, m’lady,” he said to me, pulling over and nudging the kickstand down with one heel. “I’ll wait here for you.”
In my apartment, I retrieved the iron casket containing scales of bark from Yggdrasil II that I’d stashed in the top shelf of my bedroom closet. Mogwai wound around my ankles, purring loudly. I have to admit, being back in my apartment felt familiar and comfortable and safe. There was a part of me that wanted to stay, to lock the door, hunker down, and let the battle take place without me. Mom was right. This shouldn’t have to be my fight.
Except it was.
I filled Mogwai’s bowl to overflowing with kibble. Since cell phone reception was sketchy out in the dunes, I took the opportunity to call Jen and tell her how much I valued our friendship, and ask her to take care of my cat if anything happened to me.
I called Chief Bryant and asked him to tell people to stay inside and off the street tomorrow, because I didn’t know what might happen if or when the Wild Hunt was unleashed.
And I called my mom and told her that I loved her.
After that, I grabbed an extra sweater, stripped one of the pillowcases from my bed, and drove back to meet Cooper.
Fifty-one
Cooper eyed me. “What’s the pillowcase for?”
“Truce flag,” I said briefly.
He raised his fair brows at me. “You think to bargain with the goddess Persephone herself, then?”
I shook my head. “I think to beg, Cooper. It’s the only move I’ve got left.”
His pupils dilated. “Sure, and you know that’s not true. If I had your leverage, I’d bargain.”
“How?” I challenged him. “And for what?”
“How?” Cooper gave a bleak laugh. “Don’t ask me, m’lady. I thought to drive a bargain on the gallows, but the divvil himself wouldn’t have it. But for what?” His ancient eyes gleamed in his narrow seventeen-year-old’s face. “Me, I’d just like a chance to grow to a man’s full stature.”
“I know,” I murmured.
Cooper gunned the dirt bike. “Hold tight.”
By the time we returned to the campsite, it was late afternoon on what was technically the last day of winter. I was hoping that some of Persephone’s forces might have moved into place in advance of her arrival, which would have given us the opportunity for some fey-style sabotage and vampiric terrorism in the middle of the night, but our scouts were reporting everything was quiet.
The campsite looked great, though. When I’d left, it had been nothing but a few tents pitched below the denser cover of a stand of white pines, with a path leading to the lookout point. In the hour I’d been gone, Mrs. Browne had transformed the campsite into something from the set of a Peter Jackson movie, the aboveground equivalent of a hobbit hole. Churned sand and pine mast had been swept smooth, obliging branches woven into snug little shelters. A teakettle hung from a spit above a lively campfire, whistling a merry tune.
“Here ye go, dearie.” Mrs. Browne handed me a steaming mug of tea. “It’ll warm your bones.”
She was right. It tasted of ginger and cinnamon, and it spread a pleasant warmth all through me. “Than—” I caught myself before thanking her. Brownies had very specific rules governing their magic. You can’t ask them for assistance, and it’s dangerous even to thank them for it. Compliments were okay, though. I smiled at her. “It’s delicious, Mrs. B.”
If Mrs. Browne had been human, I would have said she flushed with pleasure. “Oh, it’s nothing, nothing at all,” she said modestly before bustling on to another chore.
Even if we did have a much nicer place to wait than anticipated, the waiting made me antsy.
I talked to my co-commanders, Stefan and Cody, about my plan to approach Persephone under a flag of truce and beg her to call off the war.
Unsurprisingly, neither of them approved.
I listened patiently to their arguments, the gist of which was that it was a pointless risk, dangerous and unlikely to succeed.
“You might be right,” I said calmly. “In fact, you probably are right. But I’m doing it anyway.”
Stefan’s jaw was rigid with tension. “I’m tempted to forbid you,” he said in an ominous voice. Beside him, Cody uttered a low growl of agreement.
Great, the two of them had found common cause. “I have to try,” I said. “What kind of liaison would I be if I didn’t at least try?”
Cody and Stefan exchanged a glance. “Then I will accompany you,” Stefan said in a quieter tone.
“No.” Cody shook his head. “I’ll go.”
I raised my voice. “We can’t spare either of you! Hell, we can’t spare anyone. I’ll go alone.”
They didn’t like it, but in the end they agreed.
I didn’t have to request an audience with Hel that evening. The sun had barely sunk behind the dunes in the west when Mikill’s dune buggy roared out of Yggdrasil II’s entrance and charged up the side of the basin, skidding a little in the loose sand as it crested the rise.
“Daisy Johanssen.” The frost giant’s voice was somber. “I am bid to summon you to an audience with Hel.”
I got in the buggy. “Let’s go.”
It was unnerving to think that this might be my last visit to Little Niflheim; the last time I sent Garm bounding into the darkness after a loaf of bread; the last time Mikill warned me to keep my limbs inside the vehicle during the descent; the last time we spiraled down into the frigid cold, Mikill’s dripping beard crackling with frost as it stiffened.
When we reached the bottom, I found that the duegar were nowhere in sight, but the streets—well, the one, anyway—of Little Niflheim were lined with spectral figures—ghosts, but more misty and insubstantial than those I’d encountered aboveground
, many of them clad in attire that hadn’t been in style for, oh, a couple thousand years.
None spoke, but all watched our passage.
“Who are they?” I asked Mikill in a hushed whisper. “What are they doing here? And where are all the dwarves?”
“The duegar prepare for battle. These are the dead of Niflheim.” Mikill pulled up before the abandoned sawmill and cut the engine. “Tomorrow may be the end for all of us, Daisy Johanssen. The dead are here to bear witness.”
I swallowed. “Oh.”
As always, Hel sat upright on her throne. Both her eyes were open and blazing, but this time there were no thunderclouds gathering around her, no rumblings from the deep, no scary creaking overhead. There was only a waiting silence fraught with a sense of foreboding that made the icy air feel thick and heavy in my lungs.
I went to one knee before her throne and bowed my head. “My lady.”
“Rise, and tell me what passes aboveground, my young liaison,” Hel bade me. I obeyed and she listened to my report, nodding with approval from time to time, especially at the mention of the Wild Hunt. “Yes, the immortal hunters who strike terror into the hearts of men are known to us from days of old. You have done well.”
I cleared my throat. “My lady, may I ask what Little Niflheim plans in terms of battle?”
The left side of her face formed a grimmer rictus than usual. “Where the roots of Yggdrasil will bear it, the duegar lay traps beneath the shifting sands. The hellhound Garm will defend the world tree with his last breath.” Turning her head from side to side, Hel acknowledged the three frost giants flanking her throne, and Mikill standing nearby, with a brief dip of her head.
“If Garm should fail, the four of us shall take his place,” Mikill said in his quietest rumble.
“So . . . just to be clear, as far as Garm’s concerned, there’s no, um, cease-fire on the whole friends-versus-foes front?” I asked. “You can’t teach him to, say, recognize your allies?”
A slight furrow etched the fair right half of Hel’s brow. “The hellhound Garm will attack anyone who approaches the world tree, yes. Such is his immortal nature and purpose, which cannot be altered. Thus has it ever been, and thus shall it ever be. Is that what your inquiry was intended to discern?”
Poison Fruit: Agent of Hel Page 40