by J. S. Malcom
“Alley,” Cade says, offering me a crooked grin.
I have to laugh, maybe just in relief of having escaped the bullmole. “I can see that. And the alley opens onto what exactly?”
“Gorgedden,” Cade says. “Also known as the Bottom, the Pits and the Heel—none of them particularly loving nicknames for the Unseelie slum. Come on, I'll show you around.” He starts walking, and then stops to look me over. “Right, ears covered. Good. Oh, it's probably better if you don't talk to anyone.”
Not that I was dying to make new fae buddies, but I still can't help feel a little insulted. Apparently, no matter where I go in these realms I'll be something of a freak. Then again, if what he says about half-bloods being killed on sight is true, I’d imagine it's probably best for both of us to keep a low profile.
We emerge from the alley onto a scene bustling with life, with crowded sidewalks and a street full of equestrian traffic. The people are dressed like us, the men in tunics and pants, the women for the most part in long skirts and blouses. Other than the way people are dressed, the most noticeable distinction between here and Silvermist is how crowded and poor it looks. The streets are lined with buildings constructed of stone, several stories high in some instances, but they’re cracked and aged where you can see past the ivy clinging to their exteriors. Slanted tile roofs are patchy, some with crumbling chimneys. In many cases, windows are missing, either open to the elements or boarded up haphazardly, as if those occupying the buildings didn’t have much to draw upon for repair materials. All in all, it feels like a mashup between an early twentieth century urban slum and a medieval village.
The other thing I notice right off is that, despite the decay and poverty, no one seems bothered. Unlike our city streets, where people keep their gaze fixed straight ahead or stare at their screens, those around us smile, wave and call out to each other. They stand in groups eating food sold by vendors cooking over open fires. Their children run, laugh and play, watched by indulgent groups of men and women. Behind it all, music drifts through the air, that to my ear sounds vaguely Celtic with its mix of pipes and percussion.
“I guess it must be the weekend here too,” I say, thinking of the outdoor market we were at earlier.
“This is how it is here every day,” Cade says, guiding me along. “The Unseelie have a way of trying to make the best of things. It annoys the hell out of the Seelie, believe me.”
“Why?”
“Because it means they don't grasp their station, or their natural inferiority to their masters. Don't they realize they're living in a slum?”
When Cade says it, I look around again at the people surrounding us. Like poor people everywhere, many of the Seelie men and women have faces etched with the lines of worry and labor. A feeling ripples through me that they’re desperately trying to find happiness in their existence, if only for the children blissfully unaware of their circumstances.
Suddenly, my heart jumps when a man appears before us, deliberately blocking Cade's path. He's stocky and solid, with a barrel chest and bulging arms. He stares hard at Cade. “Well, what have we here? A half-blood in our midst?”
Cade narrows his gaze and stares right back. “And there I was thinking that stench in the alley was horse piss. Should have known you were nearby.”
Okay, we're dead.
The man steps closer, clamps a hand onto Cade's shoulder, and then he lets out a deep laugh. “Good to see you, Scamper. Each time, I’m not sure if we will again.”
Scamper?
Cade drops the ruse too as a broad smile replaces his sneer. “Come on, Brevlane. They’ll never catch me. You must know that by now.”
“Let’s hope it’s true,” Brevlane says.
“I believe I owe you something.” Cade reaches into his pocket and pulls out an oblong disc that glints in the sunlight.
Brevlane’s eyes widen, then he looks from Cade, to me, and then back to Cade.
“It’s okay,” Cade says. “She knows. Brevlane, this is Cassie. Cassie, Brevlane.”
Given the fact that Cade warned me just moments ago not to speak to anyone, I’m not quite sure what to do. Then again, he told me half-bloods are killed on sight. Apparently, we’re in safe company.
“Nice to meet you,” I say.
Brevlane nods. “You as well, Cassie.”
Cade holds out the disk, that now glows from within. “Could get you out of a pinch sometime. Consider it a gift.”
“It’s too much,” Brevlane says. “I didn’t risk anything.”
“Neither did I, thanks to you. No one was home at the time and, for some strange reason, none of their wards were holding.”
Brevlane lets out another laugh. “Yeah, well, call it a hunch.”
“Good hunch. As I said, a gift.”
Finally, Brevlane accepts the disk, which he quickly deposits into his pocket. He glances around to see if anyone noticed, then turns back to Cade. “Should I tell Dabria you were here?”
Cade hesitates, but then shakes his head. “It might be better if you didn’t.”
Brevlane nods, indicating his understanding. “Of course,” he says. “I understand. Good seeing you, Scamper.”
Brevlane sets off and we start moving again. We don’t get far before a flourish of horns cuts through the air. I stop and swivel, looking through the crowd to see where it’s coming from, part of me wondering if it’s some sort of joke. It’s literally the sound of fanfare. The smile falls from my face as I see the terror in the eyes of those around me. The music playing in the background suddenly cuts off. All conversation stops. People gaze down at the ground and even the children stop playing, running to hide behind their parents or dashing from the street toward their homes.
The blast of horns sounds again and I follow Cade’s gaze to see them approaching, a group of men made visible above the crowd by their horses. My breath catches in my throat, my pulse involuntarily escalating. It looks like the same men I saw chasing Ellie, but it's hard to be sure. Almost all of them are lean and pale, with nearly platinum hair. Maybe that's how most of the Seelie men look, although I think of that dark-haired one I saw before. Who was he, and why was he the only one who showed kindness toward Ellie?
Cade nudges me and I glance over to see what he wants. Instead, he keeps his eyes cast down. That's what he's trying to tell me, I'm sure. Don't watch them. Don't get noticed. Part of me thinks to hell with that, while another part tells me to do as I'm told. The entire point is not being seen. Still, I can't help looking as the horses ride past, the men upon them gazing beyond the crowd. It's as if, for them, these people might as well be tall grass, nothing more than an inconvenience impeding their way.
“You, come here!”
My heart jumps in my chest, but all heads turn toward a man at the back of the crowd. He's thin with red hair, his face visibly pale.
“I said, come here.”
The one calling out to him has ridden past now too. I see only the back of his head as he watches the one he singled out. Still, the hairs rise on the back of my neck, and I shudder as a chill ripples through me. I can’t even see his face, but I could swear I know him.
The Unseelie man goes slowly to where he's been called, keeping his eyes lowered as he ambles forward
“What's your name?”
The man briefly looks up, his eyes wide with fear. “Meek,” he says, “Troan Meek.”
For a moment, I wonder at the man's unfortunate name. Does it translate the same way for the fae? But the Seelie men laugh, telling me that it does.
“Well, Mr. Meek, where were you this morning at daybreak?”
“Daybreak, sir? I was…” The man’s words trail off, his eyes cutting away.
The Seelie leader reaches for his sword, starting to draw the blade from its scabbard.
“He was with me.” A woman steps forward, her entire body trembling. She too is thin, her dress tattered at the hem, her dark hair matted and dirty.
The men on horseback laugh, as the woman s
tares down.
“I can't imagine why he'd bother,” one of them says.
“Well, have a look at him,” another says.
Their leader eases his sword back into place. He waits for his men to stop laughing, while the crowd remains tensely silent. He directs his attention to the woman. “And you'd swear to that before the Court. Even if a man fitting his description”—he gestures to her lover—“was seen skulking behind the royal coach house just hours before several items were reported missing.”
The woman lifts her head, this time holding her gaze steady. “I'd swear to it, my lord.”
“Good, because you may find yourself doing just that.” The Seelie leader turns to the man again. “You're lucky to have this woman. Luckier than you may realize.”
The couple bow and melt back into the crowd, which begins to mill about. The leader starts his horse moving again, and his men follow, but one of them turns to look back at me. Eyes the color of tangerines stare from within an angular face. The encounter is unnerving and, I realize, dangerous, since he flicks his reins to pick up his pace. He trots past the others in his group, my blood going cold as I realize what he's doing. He plans to point out my presence to the man at the front.
Cade must have noticed too, since he whispers, “Move. Now!”
This time, I don't need him to grab my arm since I'm at the ready. We start cutting through the crowd. I wince, nearly jumping out of my skin, as a voice calls out, “You! Stop!”
“Run!” Cade says, but I don't have to be told that either.
“I said stop!”
We take off, legs pumping, as first we run through the street and then up onto the sidewalk. Wide eyes meet mine as people dodge out of the way, their gazes quickly shifting to what's behind us. I don't have to look back because I hear it, the drumming of hooves upon the street and the frightened cries of those who weren't fast enough getting out of the way.
Suddenly, a blast of light explodes in my peripheral vision, nearly blinding me. I catch just a hazy glimpse of Brevlane, holding up the oblong disk, as a shock wave travels through the air, bringing with it a gust of wind and a cloud of dust. The beating of hooves stop, followed by the high pitched whinnying of frightened horses.
We leave the street and take to the alleys, cutting first through one and then another, past piles of trash, closed doors and barred windows. We enter yet another alley, running full speed until we reach the end where we’re met with a high brick wall. Sweat runs down my face as I gasp for air. My heart pounds in my chest, as I wildly look around for escape.
“The pendant!” Cade croaks out the word, then doubles over to catch his breath.
It takes me a second to make the connection, as again I hear the sound of approaching horses. I reach into my blouse and pull on the silver chain, revealing the pendant to the light. Cade reaches out and grasps the stone with one hand while performing a series of quick gestures with the other. My eyes go wide as the wall transforms into the open mouth of a passageway.
“Go!” Cade grabs hold of my hand to pull me forward, and we plunge into darkness as the opening closes behind us.
CHAPTER 16
The only magical thing about our escape turns out to be the passageway itself, which I soon learn opens onto a cement chamber with a ladder leading down. And, of course, what’s beneath the street is the city’s sewer system. It’s a fragrant experience, to say the least, but at least it’s not another bullmole tunnel. We stumble along in near complete darkness, with just a little light seeping in from street vents above, as Cade explains how, not long ago, the Unseelie created a series of magically hidden entrances. “Necessity being the mother of invention and all that,” he says. “Although, these days, there’s rarely enough magic for them to work.”
Cade obviously knows where he’s going and, before long, we climb a few steps leading to a dry alcove. Cade illuminates our surroundings with a torch kept down there for just such occasions. “Same deal for light,” he says. “Once, those taking refuge here would have just used magic. Now it’s down to torches.”
I sit cross-legged on the cold stone floor, trying to get my gag reflex under control. Thankfully, we had breakfast hours ago, or I’m pretty sure I’d be losing mine right now.
“How does that whole deal work?” I say. Magic being real is a new enough concept for me, never mind being able to monopolize the use of it.
“You mean, how do the Seelie control what’s left of the magic?” Cade shakes his head. “Good question. If only we knew, then maybe we could do something about it.”
It’s interesting that he says ‘we,’ and I think back to when Brevlane asked Cade about someone named Dabria. I can’t help but wonder if Cade’s ties to the Unseelie might run on multiple levels.
“So, what now?” I’m half-hoping the plan is to rest for a few minutes, find a rift out of here, and then try again later. But I suspect otherwise.
My suspicion is confirmed when Cade says. “We’re stuck for now.”
“How stuck?”
“As in no way out, at least until we’re sure no one is searching for us. I’m guessing even your free pass isn’t going to work here in Scintillia.” Cade waits a moment before adding, “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”
Sadly, there isn’t. If there’s a shimmer to be had around here, I haven’t spotted it, and the sense I get is that I can’t conjure even the slightest amount of magic at the moment. “Not keeping any secrets,” I say.
With that, Cade stretches out on his back and clasps his hands behind his head. “Then I’m getting some sleep. Up to you, but you might want to think about doing the same.”
A few seconds later, he starts snoring and I sit there trying not to gag.
*
It’s night when we climb back up to the street, emerging through a manhole this time to conserve the magic stored in Sloane’s amulet. It occurs to me, that by giving me the amulet, Cade essentially handed me control of what appears to be our only source of power. He literally put my own safety and chances for survival ahead of his own. I can’t help but wonder if maybe doing so was his way of letting me know that he’s trustworthy, while asking me to respect the secrets about himself he hasn’t yet shared.
We start walking down a street similar, in many ways, to what I saw in Silvermist. Here too gas lamps flicker upon posts, casting quivering reflections on the windows of darkened storefronts. The moon shines down from above, not quite full now, but just starting to wane. A few others walk along, but for the most part the street is empty. Except for the gas lamps, and the occasional person riding by on a horse, it could be a city in the human realm. At least one from the past.
Then something occurs to me, and I can’t help but chuckle.
Cade turns to me. “What?”
For some reason, the thought makes me want laugh again, and I fight it back. All the same, I snort.
“What?” Cade says again.
I get myself under control. “Well, it’s like I imagined people living in hollowed out trees.”
“Of course, like Keebler elves.”
That does it, and I burst out laughing.
“I know, right?” Cade laughs too. “You have to love the old fae stereotypes. They’re pretty ridiculous sometimes.”
“Wait. Isn’t there a thing about iron too? That it melts them or something?”
Cade nods. “Pretty sure the origin for that one is swords. As in, humans could kill them with iron. That’s my guess, anyway.”
Which makes sense, when I think about it. “So, if you flip it around, it would be like them still thinking most of us live in thatched huts or castles.”
“Yep, pretty much,” Cade says. “Things change everywhere. It’s no exception here. There are still vestiges of the past, of course. The whole royal this and house of that thing. Not that different from Europe, or anyplace with a long history. But, of course, it’s how things have changed that matters.”
Cade’s change in tone remind
s me of where we really are, and that I have no idea where we’re going. “What’s the plan?”
“Well, that’s up to you. We could get out of here now, I’m pretty sure. That would mean finding a rift and using the amulet, or crossing back across the wasteland.”
Of the two, there’s no doubt which option I’d choose. “Or?”
“Or we see if we can find someone I know. She might be able to help us.”
It’s one of those moments when my sister’s face appears within my mind. I can so easily imagine what Autumn would say. Cassie, get serious and get the hell out of there! At the same time, I know she wouldn’t turn her back on someone she loves. She didn’t turn her back on me. “Let’s find your friend,” I say.
Cade nods and keeps walking. Still, he says, “Are you sure? We’re just going to keep getting deeper into this whole mess.”
I hesitate for just a second. “I’m sure. Let’s keep going.”
Even as I say it, part of me knows I’ll end up wishing we stayed in the sewer.
CHAPTER 17
We turn a corner onto a side street that has a little more pulse than the one we just left. Not by much, but at least light shines from behind a few shuttered windows and the faint sound of music drifts through the air. Ahead of us, people enter one of the lit buildings, the sounds of life momentarily spilling out as the door opens. Soon, we enter the tavern too, a place called the Gilded Gargoyle. A smattering of people sit at the bar and a few small groups have claimed tables. At a glance, I can tell they’re Unseelie, with their worn looking clothes, lined faces, and downtrodden air. Maybe it’s because of what happened earlier, but the music plays low, almost as if not to draw attention, and conversations are held quietly. None stare as we enter, and the feeling I get is that those here think it best to mind their own business.
“Do you see your friend?”
Cade scans the room. “Not yet, but that doesn't mean she isn’t here.”
We take a seat at the bar, and then wait for the bartender to notice us. He's large and muscular, with a shiny bald head that makes his pointy ears look like sails on a melon. After a few moments, he becomes aware of us, maybe because I keep staring at his ears which, amazingly, turn red from my continued attention. He turns and I realize he's not a he. The bartender is a woman, with a shaved head and the build of a championship wrestler. She smiles at seeing Cade.