Ahead, I made out what looked like a third juncture. However, as I neared it, I saw that it opened up more. Trying to clear my head, I slowly proceeded.
It was another small chamber, and it wasn’t empty. A still form stood on the other side. I blinked, but even the dragon’s eyes couldn’t pierce the gloom well enough. Only when I was nearly upon it did I see that it couldn’t possibly have been Claryce or Kravayik.
But it was an elf . . . or at least the desiccated husk of one. He had that same general appearance that Kravayik did and probably had looked enough like Kravayik to have been his brother. What remained of a long, flowing cloak and an outfit that would’ve played well in John Gilbert’s Monte Cristo tried in vain to still cover the corpse.
When I tried to move him, I discovered something else. He’d been sealed to the wall behind him. A quick but thorough inspection showed that the same stuff all over the walls and floor were what kept the body in place. I wasn’t too thrilled about that.
Eye am stronger now. Let me take over. . . .
The idea grew more tempting by the moment, but I refused. It couldn’t be that easy. I couldn’t help thinking that Bond knew exactly what my relationship with the dragon was and was hoping for me to summon him into being. That might’ve sounded insane, but I’d confronted worse insanity during my centuries of service.
I noticed one more thing as I let go of the dead elf. Not only did he look as if something’d sucked him dry, but there was a long slit from his throat down into his midsection. In fact, when I pushed the slit a little, I found that whoever had cut him had then removed the elf’s heart.
The dragon’s gaze allowed me to also see the dried remnants of a dark liquid on the slit’s edges. It didn’t take much study to understand that there’d still been some life left when the heart had been expertly removed.
If I’d had any reservations that the good doctor’d also been responsible for the body in Cortez’s morgue, they were more than dealt with now. This wasn’t just the work of a mad serial killer, though; all of what I’d witnessed thus far had relevance to anyone who dealt with the darkness of Feirie and its more subtle human equivalent. Bond had something far grander in mind, and I was supposed to be part of it.
As I pushed on from the corpse, I tried more than once to seek beyond what I could see. Unfortunately, my senses remained dulled.
Apparently not so my constant companion’s. Do not turn to the left . . . there is a darkness there Eye cannot penetrate.
It wasn’t until I actually reached the next intersection that I noticed what he was talking about. No, I definitely didn’t want to turn to the left. Somehow, I knew I’d be finding myself sharing the elf’s fate.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
You are welcome.
I didn’t trust the dragon being so cooperative and congenial under the best of times, much less at this moment. If he had any reason for helping me, it was only for his own sake. That also meant that if he found a second where my control slipped enough, he would seize it as he had when Oberon’d made him a deal.
Another question began nagging at me as I turned the opposite direction. Bond had gone through a lot of trouble to take me at Holy Name. To say it’d cost any Wyld a tremendous amount to even cross the threshold of a cathedral was to make one of the greatest understatements possible. Bond would’ve had to have knowledge and access to spellwork from both realms to enable the creature to succeed, and while it was clear that he had that, it had to have cost him. He’d only have risked the sudden attack for some significant reason.
There was nothing that Joseph’d said to us that would be of some value to Bond, but maybe he’d assumed otherwise. It wasn’t a coincidence—of course—that we’d been followed from Dunning. One way or another, something that either the doctor believed Joseph’d said to us or something Barnaby’s son had revealed to Bond himself had forced Bond’s hand. Something involving the Moon’s wake and not just its length, as important as that had to be.
I remembered the height of the Frost Moon’s influence. I wondered now if the wake had a cresting point, a time when its effect would also be greatest.
A time for which Bond needed to be prepared.
Beware! Wyld ahead!
I hesitated. I couldn’t sense anything, especially a Wyld.
“You certain?”
Eye do not lie!
I considered retreating, but then heard a low moan. Without hesitation, I pushed forward again.
Beware!
“Quiet . . .” Another chamber opened up ahead, one large enough for me to stand.
Against the other side hung another elf. He looked almost as emaciated as the corpse, and his once-fine garments were in tatters.
“All hail His Lord,” I muttered.
Despite his ragged condition, the elf instinctively rasped, “May . . . may his reign be . . . eternal. . . .”
As I’d thought. One of Oberon’s courtiers. He looked like he’d been here for some time, even before I’d learned about his former liege’s survival. I wondered what he’d done to be left to this by Oberon.
I cautiously took a step toward him. I could feel the dragon’s frustration with my choice, but I pretended to ignore him.
The elf managed to lift his head enough to look at me. Again, the similarity to Kravayik was remarkable, even in the unnatural light of the dragon’s gaze. I wondered if Oberon’d had his share of dalliances on the side.
“The Gatekeepers. . . .” Despite his predicament, he tried to sneer. That was the thing about Feirie folk; they generally couldn’t change their nature even when it sure as hell would’ve behooved them. “All . . . hail . . . His Lord. . . .”
“You do know Oberon’s dead, don’t you?” I asked as I moved close enough to investigate if there was some way to release him.
“His Lord is . . . eternal! Only humans . . . turn to dust.”
Curiously, I could see there and then how Kravayik had so readily turned to Christianity. In Feirie, he’d lived for Oberon and then Her Lady. In the mortal realm, he’d sought for something stronger to believe in.
“He was pretty much cinders, I can promise you,” I remarked.
“Stop that!”
The vehemence with which the elf managed to shout at me startled even the dragon. I stared at the prisoner. “I’m trying to free you.”
“Nay! He will . . . he will punish us both severely!”
I frowned. Here was one of the highest-caste Feirie folk, a cold-hearted creature who no doubt had himself a legacy of dirty deeds done at the behest of Oberon. Despite that, I was willing to help him escape.
He spat in my face . . . or tried to. It felt more like dust than anything else. “He warned after the last time what would happen if we escaped. He warned both of us, but Jorav would not listen well enough, so he was placed near the center, where the spell’s crosscurrents were strongest! We were both warned, but only I listened! I’ve been good! Very good. I will not let you ruin that! I will not!”
The elf became more agitated. I finally stepped back. Only when I was just out of arm’s length did he calm again.
I tried one more time. “Listen to me!”
“All hail His Lord! All hail His Lord!” And with that, he began to laugh madly.
Either leave this fool or let me burn him! There is nothing worth our time here!
I had to agree with him for once. Judging by the mad look in his black eyes, the elf would do anything he could to keep me from saving him. He’d been tortured to the point where his only allegiance was to his torturer. I’d have tried much more if he’d been most humans, but I knew that, unlike Kravayik, this elf’s first choice would be to try to kill me.
“I’ll be leaving you, then.”
This only caused him to laugh harder. He was still laughing long after I left him.
Eye say again . . . let me out . . . let me burn this place to the ground. . . . I will do a fine job. . . .
“And probably leave whatever surrounds
us as ash, too. No.”
You will come to beg me one day . . . and Eye will say nay.
“No, you’ll chortle with glee and set fire to everything in sight until I stop you because that’s your nature.”
He was silent for a moment, then chuckled in a way that reminded me just a bit of the mad elf. True. So very true.
The path quickly forced me to my hands and knees again. That made the dragon’s offer more and more tempting, but I still worried about Claryce especially. I needed to find out if Bond had her prisoner. If he did, I’d have to figure out some way to reach her. If not . . .
If not, I’d let the dragon have his way.
“This is getting monotonous, Bond!” I called. “If you’ve a point to all this, maybe you’d be better off explaining it.”
“Call it a test,” he responded cheerfully. “I’ve tested so many. Some were only amusing. Some gave me a hint of what I needed. A few enabled me to outwit my persecutors and linger on.” Bond chuckled again. “But if he’s right, you’ll finally be my path all the way back.”
He might’ve not been of Feirie, but Bond talked as cryptically as any of the shadow folk. I was about to make a remark back, but then my head began to feel as if someone had just stuck a lead weight inside my skull. I nearly collapsed face-first into the muck.
Set me free! It is our only hope! Set me free!
Bond kept talking as if he couldn’t see my struggle. “Of course, there is the unexpected pleasure of renewing acquaintance with your fair lady. I have to admit that it even caught me by surprise! So many years . . .”
His mention of Claryce was enough to enable me to force my head up again . . . but that was as far as I could manage to do anything.
Set me free! Set me free!
I wanted to order him to quit badgering me, but my head felt heavier than ever. I wanted nothing better than to just lie down and let unconsciousness take me.
I must’ve slipped into some state where my mind was open to suggestion. I would’ve never allowed the dragon free rein here.
But before I knew what was happening, I felt myself transforming. My hands and feet splayed out and quickly grew long claws. My face stretched forward, and my teeth grew. Near my shoulder blades, protrusions pressed against my clothes and then ripped them away.
And suddenly I was in a place of darkness save for a circle of light through which I could see the passage. My view reminded me of staring through a fishbowl.
Wood cracked. Metal squealed.
The dragon laughed.
Even though we’d only gone through a portion of the transformation, he already had control. It wasn’t doing him much good, though, because despite now being pressed against the walls and ceiling, he hadn’t yet managed to shatter Bond’s maze. More and more we were squeezed into a tighter space, something the dragon would not accept even though it meant more pain for us.
“I will be free!” he roared.
Instead, even where my mind lurked, I could feel the pressures building against us, crushing us. The maze wasn’t just pinning us in, but it was adjusting, shifting.
And as it did, even through the dragon I could feel a spell taking place, a spell we were feeding.
Stop! I ordered him. Stop!
The dragon didn’t obey. He kept trying to will the transformation further, not accepting that doing so was not only impossible, but a danger to us. The claws raked the walls. The half-formed wings sought to push through the ceiling.
The spell surrounding Bond’s maze only grew stronger.
I remembered the two elves, especially the husk.
Stop! Listen to me!
The dragon roared, but this time not in triumph but agony.
His control slipped. I seized mastery again. Our body shrank. The spell around us remained strong, but not quite as strong as before.
“You want to help,” I whispered to the dragon. “You’ll have a chance in a moment.”
Although weakened, I could sense his sudden interest. Even though the pressure in my head grew stronger and stronger again, I pushed back through the maze. I was counting on both Bond’s hubris and some of the limitations this structure still had to have.
Wyld . . . the dragon cautiously warned me.
“The same?” I muttered back.
The same.
I was glad to hear that for more than one reason. What I hoped to do would be risky enough, but if there was more than one elf like the one we’d argued with, the odds against our success would be just about insurmountable.
We slipped back into the chamber. The elf failed to notice us at first, which suited me fine.
“Be ready,” I warned the dragon.
He knew instantly what I wanted and eagerly awaited. I pushed forward to the elf, who finally raised his head to look at me.
“You see . . . no escape . . . we must be good! We must not stir up the Beast. . . .”
“Whatever you say.” I grabbed both his arms.
The dragon chortled.
The elf screamed as we ripped him from the wall. I had no qualms about hurting him. He’d served Oberon, which meant there was a lot of blood on his hands. I knew simply killing him wouldn’t work, either. The remains of the other elf indicated to me that even the corpse of one of the Feirie folk could serve Bond’s spellwork for a time. Time I couldn’t afford.
Much of the dark substance sealing the elf to the wall came with him, while some of the elf’s skin remained on the wall. He continued to shriek, but what I’d done was still the best way to free him.
Still shrieking, he fell to his knees. I pushed the dragon’s presence to the background, then tried to help the elf. Our odds would still be better if Oberon’s former follower would help us.
He was having none of it, though. Face even paler than normal for one of the Court, the elf swatted my hand away, then tried to turn back to the wall.
Aware of what he had in mind, I slugged him on the jaw. One thing I’d learned—a lot of elves had glass jaws. This one proved to be of that ilk, falling in a stunned heap.
I felt the spellwork controlling the maze begin to collapse. The entire thing had worked through the body and essence of the captive.
It all falls apart! the dragon triumphantly roared in my head.
“Don’t get so cocky.” With some misgivings, I grabbed for the elf.
The maze exploded.
I was tossed into the air. I don’t know why it happened, but suddenly the dragon had dominance again. We had wings that kept us from falling. We smelled the enticing scent of burning wood and saw a moment later flames reaching high from the building from which we’d been tossed.
But despite our wings, the tempest that rose then easily spun us around as if we were just leaves in a breeze. We both knew that the abrupt storm was magical in nature, not that it did us any good. We were cast far away, neither of us able to identify up and down anymore.
So, it wasn’t all that surprising when we struck either a wall or a street with enough velocity that not only created a thundering crack, but also knocked us out.
I didn’t remember the transformation back to my own shape, only that it was suddenly dark and that every bone felt as if it’d broken. I knew it couldn’t have been long since we were tossed into the air, though, because suddenly I heard angry voices, some with Irish brogues.
I managed to push to my feet just as a lanky hood in a cap stepped out of a building. He pulled out an automatic when he saw me.
“Dago!” he snarled, firing.
Apparently he’d seen me well enough to think, by my somewhat Mediterranean features, that I was part of Capone’s gang. The fact that even in the dark I could make out his Irish mug, not to mention hear his bloodline in his voice, meant that I was likely in North Sider territory. Bugs Moran and his chief partners, Hymie Weiss and Vincent Drucci—heirs to Deanie O’Banion’s bootlegging empire—still blamed their rivals in the Outfit for their boss’s murder in his flower shop. Any potential member of Capone’s g
ang was to be shot on sight, especially if he wandered near the North Sider’s distilling facilities.
Which I’d apparently done.
I couldn’t say for certain whether my showing up here’d been luck or because, like Oberon, Bond had ties with Moran and his companions. For now, I had to concern myself with regaining the advantage.
The first shot went wide, no thanks to me. Fortunately, most hoods couldn’t shoot straight unless at a real close distance. That gave me time to recover enough to leap at him. It wasn’t a gap any normal person could’ve crossed in a single jump, but I had the dragon’s strength to push me beyond even my abilities.
As we collided, I heard more voices. There was a clacking sound that I knew spelled far more trouble. Someone had a tommy. It didn’t matter if he could shoot straight. The submachine gun could spray a hail of bullets that’d take down anything in the area.
I punched my first foe hard in the gut. As he bent, I snatched his automatic and fired in the direction of the clacking sound.
My shot was followed by a series of oaths that nearly made my ears burn even after centuries as a soldier and guardian. I knew my shot’d been a quick one, but had hoped it would at least keep the second hood from firing.
The rat-a-tat-tat of the tommy scratched that hope away. Evidently my shot’d convinced the second hood that his compatriot was already dead. That became a moot point as the spray ripped into the thug I was gripping.
Let me out! Let me out!
I wasn’t about to go through that situation again, especially since I couldn’t have witnesses seeing a mythical titan in the middle of the city. Instead, I threw the riddled body in the same direction I’d fired, then attempted a second shot.
A shadow darker than the night swept past the machine gunner. I heard a muffled cry, and suddenly the man fell forward . . . while his head fell back.
My first thought was of the thing I’d jokingly nicknamed Lon, but then I realized what I took for shadow was instead a robe of sorts.
The shadow turned to me. “Master Nicholas! Forgive me!”
I didn’t know what Kravayik was apologizing for until the hair on the back of my head stood up. I looked over my shoulder . . . and this time did behold Her Lady’s pet enforcer.
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