by Amy Sumida
“I'm paid?” I muttered, and then gave a tired, “Yay.”
“Yeah, he sent it immediately after you left.” Cerberus paused, and the silence dragged on long enough for me to open my eyes and sit up.
“What?” I narrowed my gaze on him. “Is it about that conversation he wants to have with me?”
“Yeah.” Cerberus looked embarrassed.
That was a first.
“What the hell, Cer?” I punched his arm lightly.
“He says . . .” Cerberus shook his head, and huffed. “No, I promised I wouldn't tell you. He wants to be the one to explain it.”
“Explain what?”
“It's fucking bizarre, Ellie-girl,” Cerberus sighed. “But it's not like we don't live in the bizarre. It could be true, and I don't think Banning would lie to me about it. He didn't smell like he was lying.”
“About what?” I growled.
“Can't tell you,” he said. “But I promised Banning I'd try to get you to talk to him. It's that serious. And who knows? Maybe it will be a good thing.”
“Cerberus, I'm going to kick your ass if you don't tell me what the fuck you're talking about right now!”
“I can't, Elaria.” He shrugged. “Just believe me when I say you need to hear him out.”
“Get out.” I flopped back down. “I'm too tired for this bullshit.”
“Come on, kid.” He pushed at my leg.
Cerberus loved to call me “kid” since he was like this ancient god, and I was only 257 years old.
“What's with the country club, by the way?” I tried to get off the subject since it didn't look as if he was leaving anytime soon.
“What's wrong with the club?” Cer asked. “It's a good cover. It makes Banning money, and only attracts a certain type of human.”
“What? Rich and stupid?”
“Rich and docile, mostly,” he shrugged. “Not a lot of riots started at country clubs.”
“Yeah, all right.” I chuckled. “Is that where he lives too?”
“The whole gura lives there.” Cer nodded. “There are five subterranean levels beneath the club.”
“Holy hellhounds,” I swore, and Cerberus scowled. That curse was a particularly irritating one for him. Which was of course why I used it often.
“Banning has a bunch of businesses all over America, but the Crouching Lion is his stronghold.” Cerberus tried to ignore my smirk. “He's a good businessman. I think he'd expand to the other realms if he could.”
“That reminds me,” I said. “Did you see a fairy in the woods outside the country club?”
Cerberus went silent again. I opened my eyes and stared. Hard.
“Cerberus.”
“You weren't supposed to see him,” he huffed. “Fucking fairy- I thought they were good at blending in with nature.”
“The guy waved at me,” I said dryly. “And he's a walking snowman. How did you expect him to hide in the dark?”
“He waved?” Cerberus was horrified.
“Well, he didn't wave exactly.” I sat up again. “He did that thing where they just hold up their palm and stare at you, like some kind of Native American cliché.”
“Did he say 'how'?” Cerberus chuckled.
“I think it's pronounced- howgh.” I drew the word out. “With a 'GH' at the end.”
“Really?” Cer frowned. “Howgh did I not know that?”
“Cerberus!”
“Oh! Yeah, um, he's your next client.”
“He's my what?”
“He wanted to see you in action, so I told him to stop by.” Cerberus shrugged.
“A potential client, who also happens to be one of the Shining Ones, contacted you to contract my services, and you told him to just stop by and check out the mass slaughter of a blooder army?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, okay.” I deflated. Then I got up to search the mini bar for tiny bottles of alcohol. I held up a bottle of vodka triumphantly as Cerberus continued to watch me. “What?” I asked just before I downed the contents.
“The job is in Tír na nÓg,” Cerberus said.
“No.”
“But it pays”
“No.” I cut him off. “I don't go there. Nobody with any sense goes there voluntarily. Unless they happen to be a Shining One.”
Tír na nÓg was the world of the Shining Ones, fairy central, and going there was akin to going to hell, any of the hells. Not the looks part- Tír na nÓg was supposedly awesomely beautiful. No, it was the torture part, and the no-escape part, that was similar to being sent to hell.
“You'd have a diplomatic charm,” he went on anyway.
“A what now?” I grabbed a miniature bottle of Jack.
What the hell, vodka was like Russian water. In fact, its name stemmed from the Russian word for “water”. I could surely mix some Jack Daniels with it. Jack went with everything, just like water. He was very fey that way.
“A diplomatic charm,” Cerberus explained, “is a spell placed upon you before you enter Tír na nÓg. It guarantees you safe passage. You can't be held against your will or harmed, unless you offer harm first.”
“If I'm going there for work, I'll most likely be offering someone harm.” I grimaced.
“Yeah.” He gave me a guilty look. “They want you to kill a king.”
“A fairy king?” I gaped at him.
“No, a troll king,” he huffed. “Of course a fairy king.”
“I'd get my ass handed to me.” I swallowed hard. “In pieces. And possibly shoved down my throat.”
I was pretty bad-ass, if I do say so myself. But my mama used to warn me that no matter how powerful I got, there would always be someone better than me. I was raised to fit my britches, thank you. I knew my limitations. Fairy kings didn't get to rule because they ate sugarplums and danced around trees all day with flowers in their hair. They were the most powerful magic users in all of Tír na nÓg, and Tír na nÓg was the most magical plane of existence there was. Which meant that fairy kings- and queens, let's not be sexist- were the baddest motherfuckers in all the worlds. No one went up against Shining Royalty. No one sane at least.
“It pays fifty million dollars,” Cerberus said.
“Money is meaningless to a dead woman,” I downed the Jack. “Plus, I just made thirty mil- what the fuck do I care for another fifty?”
“How many times do I have to tell you?”
“I know, I know.” I rolled my eyes. “Eternity is a really long time, and that makes it really expensive.”
“Fifty million would be a nice nest egg.” He smiled encouragingly.
“First you want me to have some weird conversation with your blond, blooder friend, then you want me to traipse off to Tír na nÓg holding hands with some fairy revolutionary while I sing 'Ding-Dong the King is dead'?”
“I don't think those are the right words to that song,” Cerberus said dryly. “And he's not dead yet.”
“I can improvise when needed,” I stared blankly at him. “You know that.”
“One convo and one king.” Cerberus shrugged. “What's that to the Slayer of Armies?”
“That's an awful name; I don't like it,” I said dryly.
“The Conqueror of Crouching Lion?”
“Dumb.”
“The Berserker of Blooders?”
“That makes me sound like one of them.” I shook my head. “Will you please stop trying to come up with a scary assassin name for me?”
“The Last Lullaby?” Cer asked hopefully.
“That's not half bad, actually.” I frowned, and he let out an excited whoop.
“The Last Lullaby it is! Oh, El, that alias will shoot up business like crazy.”
“I don't think you said that right.” I frowned deeper. “Why don't you just call me 'L' for short?”
“I already call you 'El'.” He grimaced. “It sounds exactly the same.”
“Well, I never agreed to the name; I just said it sounded okay.”
“Too late,” he snicke
red. “You have been dubbed Lady Last Lullaby.”
“And now you're dumb again.”
Chapter Five
I had gone back to sleep after Cerberus left, but it wasn't long before I was awakened again. It was like coming out of a dream into a nightmare, one of my personal hells. The thing all spellsingers feared had been done to me while I slept. I was gagged.
It was a professional gag too. Or maybe that's the wrong term. It wasn't just some bit of cloth tied around my face. This was a piece of leather with a plastic bit that had been shoved into my mouth. The leather was strapped around my head and buckled into place. And all of that was done in the seconds it took for me to wake up. Which meant that my attacker had some super speed. Supernatural speed. In the seconds that I reeled under the knowledge of my vulnerability, my limbs were bound. I was stretched across the mattress, the blankets yanked down to the foot of the bed, so the ropes could be tied around the bed frame.
I came to in a panic, flailing and squinting in the darkness to try and find my attacker. Spellsingers may seem pretty powerful, almost god-like, but we have a very big weakness. Our voices. Plugging your ears wouldn't work. Proximity was more important. It came down to the range of my spell, not someone's ability to hear it. But if you stopped me from singing altogether, I was powerless. I didn't even have much physical strength. I was the equivalent of an average human woman. And whoever had invaded my hotel room, knew that.
The bedside lamp switched on, and I blinked against the sudden illumination. A gentle hand pushed my hair out of my face, and I looked up into the stunning features of Banning Dalca. I inhaled sharply and looked down my body. I had only worn an oversize T-shirt to bed. One of my favorites, Labyrinth. David Bowie's face was currently scowling up at the blooder looming over me. Over me and between my thighs. Oh gods, he was going to rape me. I knew that bastard looked weird. Fucking blood-sucking sadist! If I lived through this, I was going to make him do horrible things to himself. Things involving enormous dildos.
“Shh.” He pulled away, easing down to the end of the bed, and leaning over to grab the discarded blankets. He brought them up and over me, tucking me in like I was a child. “I'm not here to hurt you in any way, Elaria.”
I tried to murder him with my stare.
“I had to restrain you,” Banning said apologetically. “Cerberus told me you refused to talk to me, and I couldn't let you leave Kansas without at least trying to speak to you. I can't lose you again. Not after just finding you.”
I felt my eyes widen. This blooder was bonkers. Or maybe he thought I was someone else. But no, he had used my name. He knew who I was. So he was just plain crazy.
“No, I'm not insane,” Banning said as if he could read my thoughts.
I knew that wasn't true though. It wasn't a blooder talent. The old ones could sometimes control your mind, but they couldn't read it.
“I just want you to hear me out,” he went on. “Just listen to what I have to say, and then I'll remove the restraints and the gag. You can do what you will then. Kill me if that's your wish. I only want you to hear me out first.”
I went still. What the hell was this about?
“It has been over two hundred years since I've seen your beautiful face.” Banning sat on the bed beside me. “But I recognized you instantly. The curve of your cheek, the bow of your mouth, even the color of your eyes- that strange mix of cerulean and amethyst. It's all the same. Your voice is still the same. Your scent. The only difference is your race . . . and your magic.”
I was totally baffled.
“I know you don't understand.” He sighed. “Do you not feel even the slightest bit of familiarity when you look at me? Do you remember nothing?”
Remember? What the fuck was this guy going on about? I shook my head. No, Crazy Pants, I don't remember you.
“Ah, I should have known that would be too much to hope for.” Banning nodded. “Let me tell you my story then, Elaria, and perhaps that will trigger something.”
Yep, he was batshit crazy, but at least he wasn't raping me. Maybe I could just calmly let this play out, and then kill the lunatic after he released me.
“I was blooded in 1641 when I was twenty-four years old,” he began. “But we didn't meet until 1657. Your name was Fortune Selwyn, and you were the daughter of a ship's captain. Your family lived in London. Your father imported goods for the merchants there.”
Oh, I wasn't liking where this was heading, not at all.
“I even remember the name of the street we met on.” Banning smiled wistfully. “Beech. The tree not the shoreline. You were on your way home, with only a maid for your escort. I had never seen anyone as beautiful as you. You wore this pale blue dress, and it made your eyes appear violet. I stopped you and asked your name.” He chuckled. “You sniffed indignantly, offended that I would approach you without a proper introduction, and stomped away. When I pursued, you told me, and this is a direct quote, 'Get thee from me this instant, you bull's pizzle!'”
I narrowed my eyes on him as he took a moment to laugh.
“I think I loved you instantly,” Banning confessed. “I followed you home, secretly of course, and watched you daily for months. You were amazing. This vibrant, willful woman with the mouth of a sailor. I labored over how to introduce myself properly, how to get into your sphere. Finally, the choice was made for me.” He swallowed hard.
I muttered against the gag that he had the wrong woman, but of course, he couldn't hear me.
“Your father had some very powerful enemies.” Banning sighed. “They wanted to send him a message. I suppose it was a blessing that they didn't abduct and rape you, but what they did was still horrifying. They murdered you in the middle of the street. You'd just left your father's ship, after bringing him his dinner. He often stayed late in his office, and you enjoyed spending a few hours in his company, even if you had to walk through London during the evening hours to do it.”
Something tingled inside me, some kind of creeping, seeping shiver. Dread.
“Being so newly blooded, I couldn't come out until full dark.” His jaw clenched. “Your evening walks were just a little too early for me. I reached you just before you died. A few minutes later, and I probably wouldn't have been able to save you. As it was, the screams of your maid alerted me, and spurred me on. I found you bleeding out from a wound in your chest, lying on the dirty cobbles. They had simply stabbed you through the ribs, and fled.”
Banning stopped, and gave me a hard look. His eyes flashed emerald.
“Know that they suffered, Elaria,” he proclaimed. “I found them, all of them, and made them pay for what they did. Still, it was a blessing in the end. I don't think I would have had the heart to blood you if you hadn't been on the verge of death. To turn you into a monster seemed like such blasphemy. But as I held you, I knew I couldn't let you die. I took you away from that filthy street, and I made you mine.”
A flash of Banning in some kind of fancy, Elizabethan outfit danced in my head. Despite all the frills, he still looked good in it, manly even. Lace and gold bordered his throat, a silk ribbon bound his hair, yet his face was fierce when it lowered to my neck. No. No fucking way. I was letting this guy's story get to me. My imagination had filled in the images. There was no way I could remember that. I hadn't even been born yet.
“We fell in love, deeply in love, and we made the mistake of showing it.” His eyes flashed again. “I was just starting to gain my power, just an infant blooder really, and I had joined the London Gura for their guidance and protection. As my blooded, you were brought in as well. The gheara was a woman. Cosmina. We gave her our loyalty and lived beneath her rule for nearly a hundred years before our love began to annoy her. Most immortals, as I'm sure you know, don't remain in relationships for more than a few decades. We grow bored so easily.”
I must have made some kind of expression indicating agreement because he nodded and went on.
“Cosmina wanted me.” Banning didn't say it with ego, just state
d a fact. “She thought she could wait out my love for Fortune. After a century though, it became apparent that Fortune and I were special. We had a love strong enough to last forever. No one could turn my affection away from you. I have always, since the moment I first saw you, thought you were the most exquisite woman who has ever existed. But that wasn't why I loved you. Your face drew me in, but your heart held me prisoner.”
His expression changed from romantic to ferocious.
“Cosmina hated our love,” he growled. “The more she watched us, the more bitter she grew. Until finally, she acted upon her jealousy. She murdered you. She took my beloved away, and I was too weak to stop her. That was the year 1760.”
Banning stopped, hung his head briefly, and swallowed hard. When he looked back up at me, there were tears in his eyes.
Another flash of images came. A cruelly smiling woman with blazing auburn hair. She was standing over me, her greedy mouth bloody. Banning was behind her, being held back by a group of men. He was shouting, straining against them, his face streaked with tears and blood. What the fuck? Seventeen sixty was when this woman had died, Banning's Fortune. That was the same year I had been born. Was it a coincidence? I didn't believe in reincarnation. Did I?
“I fled London.” His jaw clenched. “I am ashamed for fleeing, even to this day, but there was nothing I could do. I had to either submit to the woman who had killed my sweet Fortune or escape. I couldn't set sail from London. She would have known. So I made my way through Europe until finally, I reached another shore, and booked passage to America. My power had grown enough to establish my own gura, and I became a gheara.” He stopped and pulled off his shirt, showing me his muscled chest.
There were tattoos down his right arm. I recognized one immediately. It was the mark of a gheara, a circle with a curving shape angled inside it, near the top. The form of a sharp fang But below and around this prominent tattoo were other, more-detailed pieces. Some tribal and some more realistic, but all in black ink. Stark against his pale skin.