Muddy Waters (Otherwhere Book 1)

by Sara O. Thompson

  “Let it be known through all the universe, in all time and space, that I banish thee,” the Holly King boomed, his bloody silver sword aloft. “From all realms I touch, from all realms of my brethren, my children, my ancestors. You shall not pass through our gates. Your name shall be cursed from this day until the last. Be gone, I say.” There was an impossibly bright flash of light and the General’s body was gone.

  Then I passed out.

  I am the Holly King, the dying Sun and ruler of the Old Year

  Like the Phoenix who rises anew

  from its ashes

  I too shall return, born anew

  As the Child, the New Sun and King

  ―Anonymous

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  awoke in a bed that felt like it was made of warm air. I decided I would stay there forever. The room was round, with opaque glass walls hung with thick tapestries rendered in shades of purple and silver. Swags of waxy holly hung from the corners and tumbled across tables. It smelled faintly of mint.

  The door opened, and a woman entered. More like a young girl. Her silver hair was bound up in elaborate braids, and she wore a silky lavender dress. She carried a tray, which she set on the table by my delicious bed.

  “Good morning, my lady,” she said softly. “My name is Frimda. I see you are healing. Are you well enough to sit and eat?”

  “Mmmmph.” I pulled the blankets over my head, which sent a bolt of pain down my back. “Ow.”

  The girl made a tsking noise. “There now.” She turned the covers back. “Let me help you.” She slid an arm under my shoulders and lifted me into an upright position. I realized I was starving when I looked at the tray.

  “How long have I been here?”

  Frimda smiled. “I believe it will have been about been two weeks in your Human time. Two days in ours. We have…what do you call them? Time zones? It’s a bit different everywhere.”

  “And I’ve uh… eaten while I’m here?”

  She laughed. “Yes, we’ve fed you this nourishing stew and ice wine and herbs from the healer. I daresay it’s what has helped you feel better so quickly.” She smoothed her dress before adding, “And, of course, your magical blood.”

  I sighed. Athena’s damned tits. So I’d eaten of the forbidden fruit. That would take some figuring out, but in the meantime, in for a penny, in for a pound. The stew was indeed delicious―hunks of tender meat in a wine-rich broth. Soft white bread and cold ice wine. I asked for some water, which Frimda fetched the way a parent might when indulging a child in a favorite toy. “You Humans and your water, my goodness,” she huffed.

  After I ate, my nurse insisted I dress and attend the King’s court. Frimda slid a woolen gown over my arms, then wrapped me in a warm wool robe. It was chilly, and I didn’t see how she could go around in that thin dress like it was high summer. She spent a good while fussing with my hair, making little noises of irritation. “Your hair is of such an interesting texture,” she murmured. “I confess I have not seen its like before.” Finally, she stepped back. The mirror by the door gave me the first look at myself in weeks―a thin, tired-looking me with a fancy updo and pretty clothes.

  “I clean up nice, huh?” I said. Frimda sighed.

  “If you would be so kind as to step this way?”

  The halls of the Holly King’s lair were a lot like my room―icy walls and floors, tapestries and carpets of indigo, cream, and lilac. Boughs, bunches, and bowls full of holly. And the ever-present minty odor. It was like being inside a tube of very fashionable toothpaste.

  Armed guards stood aside as we crossed into a great hall, ceilings vaulted hundreds of feet above and various courtiers milling about below. Sat in his silver throne, the King was signing something with a plumed pen. He wore a soft eggplant shirt and gray suede trousers. His hair was tied back, and a simple silver crown sat on his head.

  People stared at me as I followed Frimda to the dais.

  That same mysterious harp music played. Every person in there was beautiful and perfect and smelled like goddamn mint. I wanted to punch something.

  “My lord.” Frimda bowed elegantly. “The Lady Tessa Reddick.” She stepped back.

  Every eye in the room was on me. “I… uh…” I curtseyed. “My lord.”

  Erran whispered something to his attendant, who then clapped his hands. “We shall enjoy a break for refreshment!” It took a mere moment for the room to clear except for me and the King. A pretty little chair had appeared beside him.

  “Please, my dear. Join me here.”

  I sat.

  “I am so pleased to see you up and about. I had my most trusted servants attend to you.” His lavender eyes searched my face. “Do you want for anything?”

  “Uh, no, I’m good. And thank you,” I said. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

  He shook his head and sat back on his throne. “You really are a curious little thing.” Amusement colored his words. “I wished to have you visit me, but not under these circumstances.”

  I think it would surprise no one that I found myself incredibly uncomfortable and unsure of myself. I didn’t know what he wanted with me in the first place, and what he wanted in return for his help. The way he stared at me felt invasive. And I don’t even have all the Puritanical hang-ups about sex some people do. So I did what I always resort to when I’m nervous. I started talking.

  “So the Witchfinder General, huh? Some guy! Wow. What a jerk. A real asshole. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you and your um, entourage, but I do appreciate it. Qyll said you’re an Angel, is that true? I mean, you seem supernatural, of course. You know, I think I’m ready to go home now. Did you want me to change my clothes here or can I just mail this stuff back? Wow, I like how everything smells like mint here. Say, am I babbling?”

  He just smiled.

  I took myself in hand. “Listen. Just what happened, exactly?”

  “I am not certain, but my best guess is, the spirit we dealt with is from the edges of Otherwhere. A Witchfinder General hasn’t been in Earth in many years, I daresay, and lucky for your realm. And your kindred.”

  “He came for me.”

  The King nodded. “It would seem so. Ann’s dark magic was like a beacon in the darkness. She opened the door, it tried to come. Yet, her blood sacrifice was not sufficient to bring it all the way in. So it had to pull you out to Otherwhere. To complete its task.”

  “Killing the Reddicks.” I slumped in my chair. “Well, aren’t I popular lately.”

  “Stay with me.” His gaze intensified. He took my hand and icy fire shot through my body right to my ladyparts.

  I shook my head. “No can do, Ice Man.”

  “I can protect you here. Whatever that beast was, it will come again.”

  “Wait, no. You killed it!”

  “It was weakened, yes. To the point that it will take a long time to regain its power. But that is a very old spirit, born before even the First Magic was created. It comes and goes, makes a nuisance of itself killing Witches. However―” The shadow of a frown clouded his perfect face. “I do not recall it ever killing so many Witches at once.” He tilted his head. “It is odd.”

  “So… it’s coming back? You’re sure?”

  Erran shrugged and shook his head. “Likely. Once it recovers. For a being that strong, it may take hundreds of years. I’m surprised it returned so soon, if it was, as it claimed, responsible for the deaths of the other Reddicks.”

  “Oh.” I smoothed my dress.

  “Tessa.” He leaned toward me. “You can be my queen. We will dance together all the days of our lives. I will make you happier than any woman in all the worlds.” A warm feeling crept back into my legs and up my back. It felt like I was melting into the seat.

  Boy, it was tempting. However, if I didn’t deal straight away with this one, I’d be in for a world of hurt. This wasn’t some gangly teenager though, and I had to be careful. I turned to language to help me out.

  “Your pr
ofessions of ardor are most flattering, sir.” I retrieved my hand, then folded both into my lap, looking at the floor in what I hoped was the picture of demure deference. “And I am most grateful for your succor during this time of my recovery. Gladly do I promise to visit you here in your splendid home if you allow me to return to my business on Earth.” Before he could jump in, I kept going. “You see, good sir, I must learn the truth about my kinswomen’s deaths, and I cannot do that here. I pray you are not so cold as to refuse me this one request.” I peered up coquettishly.

  The Holly King’s face was enraptured. When he spoke, it was passionate and hearty. “Of course, my dear one. You will go. Learn more if you wish. I shall await you at the autumn equinox.”

  He stood and bowed deeply, before taking my hand and kissing it. Then he put a hand on my shoulder and one on my chest. It felt like he pushed me backward, hard, and then I was falling through eternity…

  Until I landed with a whuff on my own doorstep.

  At least, I got to keep the clothes.

  The apartment was locked up and battened down. Despite ditching the cloak right away, I got uncomfortably hot trying to find a way in. Wool and silk are great for the sub-zero court of the Holly King, but for late-summer Kentucky, leave something to be desired.

  I tried spell after spell. I peered in my windows and jiggled knobs. Beaten, I sat in the shade under the deck. My cell phone was gone, probably at the bottom of that stupid lake the Witchfinder tried to drown me in. Dorcha was nowhere to be seen.

  There was a small noise beside me, and Qyll stepped out of the ether.

  He stood over me for a long minute. “My word, it’s good to see you.”

  I stood up. “Did you intruder-proof my house?”

  “I did. We didn’t know where you were, we didn’t know how to reach you. It was a long while before we could confirm you were even still alive. Come. I can let you in now.”

  At the back door, Qyll took a box out of his pocket. It was a skeleton key, with a green ribbon tied around it. Closing his eyes, he said reverently, “Most humble and hard-working Zita, I call upon you now. Zita of Monsagrati, most humble of all.”

  It was like he was praying out loud. It was weird. But I was so tired that I was happy just to watch.

  But then I heard a tinkle, like a wind chime in a hurricane. It grew louder as the empty air shimmered in front of his face, soon filled by a tiny woman, perhaps a foot tall. Her long black hair was adorned with keys―silver and gold, elaborate and plain. A headdress two sizes too big added another six inches to her stature. Her dress also appeared to be made of keys.

  “Benedicat tibi deus, fili mi!” Her voice was like a little toy piano.

  “Et bonum est tibi!” Qyll replied.

  “Oh, nice. She only speaks Latin,” I muttered. Qyll shot me a hard glance.

  “Zita, this is Tessa. Tessa, this is Zita, the Tiny God of Lost Keys.”

  The petite goddess turned to me as regally as any full-sized queen. I was suddenly overcome with the urge to curtsy. Which I did. Poorly.

  “Your majesty,” I said, solemn.

  She sniffed and turned back to Qyll.

  “I have a gift, your grace.” He offered her the skeleton key.

  In Italian-accented English she squealed, “I have longed for one of these for such a long while!” She began to wield it as a scepter, majestically stepping through the air like she was her own parade, waving to invisible adorers and making such a racket with those clanging keys, I was sure the neighbors would complain about the noise. “You must fit the right key for each kind of power,” she said conspiratorially, over the jingle of ten thousand metal teeth.

  Finally, she stopped and smiled. “Thank you. Here I have yours, Mr. Qyll,” Zita said in her toy-piano voice. From the ether, she handed him a huge golden key. A comically huge gold and purple velvet fairytale key with a golden and purple tassel to unlock my apartment.

  “Zita, you are most gracious and kind.” Qyll took her teeny hand, the one not brandishing a skeleton key, and kissed it. Her Mona Lisa smirk spread into a grin, and she blushed. “I do hope it is not too long again before I see you.”

  She blew him a kiss and waved, then vanished in a clangorous shimmer.

  “What was that?” I ducked into the stuffy warmth of my closed-up kitchen.

  “An old friend.” He shrugged, a smile hinting around his eyes.

  Qyll opened windows and tidied away the dust while I took a shower and dressed in normal clothes. When I came out, Dorcha had returned and greeted me with her customary enthusiasm. We had a good snuggle and I fetched a glass from the kitchen. Oh Woodford Reserve, what would I do without you?

  “We’ll need you to come down tomorrow for a statement,” Qyll said. We sat on the couch, the air conditioner working to chill the rooms.

  “A statement? For what? I wasn’t on official business.”

  He shook his head. “It’s the FBI’s business now. A major magical rogue assaulted and kidnapped a magical citizen of Earth against her will. It will need to be documented and investigated. Surely you understand that.”

  I sighed and leaned back against the couch. “Fine.”

  After a few moments of silence, Qyll said quietly, “I came to tell you what I found in our files. When you didn’t answer the door, and Dorcha was gone, I knew something was wrong.”

  I looked at him. His face had gone all soft around the edges. It surprised me. “How did you find me?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t. Pryam sent scouts and asked for leads. But I was able to reach a contact I have.”

  “A contact? Who?” Even to my own ears, I sounded awfully demanding. But guess if I managed to reign myself in? “Don’t they teach little FBI agents about sharing?” Yep, I slid from demanding to downright bitchy.

  His face hardened like concrete. “His lordship the Holly King is a distant cousin. I went home to see my family and was able to determine only that you were safe in his court.”

  I squeezed my eyes closed. “I’m sorry, Q. I’m just… I don’t know. Out of sorts.” When I opened my eyes again, he looked marginally mollified. “So, what did you find in your secret files?”

  “Precious little.” He spread out the papers. “After the Rift, there was some effort to track border crossings.”

  I nodded. “They wanted us to all carry like… passports or something.”

  “That idea is still on the table. Now, here’s what we have, and keep in mind, to this day, the record-keeping on this matter is awful. Things are disorganized. There are literal file cabinets full of paper.” He said this like the FBI was keeping the organs of orphans in glass jars in the basement.

  He continued, “But my point is that there are some records of your mother’s treks into the Other. We can see her egress and ingress points were nearly always the same. She entered Otherwhere from here, the Innamincka Preserve in Australia. Easter Island. Angkor Wat. Giza. She exited in as many spots as she entered.”

  “I don’t remember her going to any of those places. Or even talking about them.”

  “Without your mother’s grimoire, or some other corroborating evidence, there’s really no way of telling. She could’ve been taking vacations, for all we know.”

  “What else?”

  He sighed. “She purchased items for the shop. She was a productive member of society. After the Rift, she self-selected as an Earth-born Witch when the U.S. government added it as an option on the census. But there’s nothing connecting her to anyone else, anyone of note.”

  I covered my eyes with a hand. “Nothing. We have nothing.”

  “I’m sorry, Tessa. I really am. I wish I could have found more. Perhaps with time…”

  “I guess it doesn’t matter now, I mean, the Holly King killed the Witchfinder General, right? Or nearly. My family’s avenged.” I sat back and stared at the ceiling.

  Somehow it felt extremely anti-climactic.

  “That’s true,” Qyll said. “And this isn’t to s
ay that we might not learn more. There’s no hurry.”

  I closed my eyes. “So this is it. I dealt with the guy who killed my family. I helped the FBI. I will continue helping the FBI. I’m the hero of the hour after I stopped Ann’s mudman from a dirty rampage across the city.”

  We sat in silence, letting the air conditioner hum.

  After a while, I sat up. “I’d say this calls for a celebratory drink.”

  He smiled, the full-on beautiful smile. “I think that is well in order. I haven’t told you this, but you did quite a nice job on your first case with SI. So we’ll go. But only if you’ll let me treat. It’s the least I can do.”

  I grinned. “Just let me change into some party clothes.”

  The bash at the Three Libras was one for the books. Well, maybe it was. I remember Qyll and Mark Tabler, Victor, Dorcha, Nona and a couple of bartenders, and a bunch of people who suddenly thought I was awesome and not a murderous Witch after all.

  It began with Victor running full-tilt at me, wrapping his stubby arms as far around as he could. “Tessa. I have been feeling so bad! When I heard you were gone, I thought the Witchfinder had taken you, and you were dead, and it was my fault.”

  I huffed out a surprised breath. “Victor, what are you talking about?!”

  He pulled back, still gripping my arms. “I told you about him. I said too much, I shouldn’t have told you. I thought that talking about him had brought him here. Please, forgive me.” His craggy old face was full of remorse.

  I patted his humpback. “It’s fine. Really.”

  I was halfway through my third (fourth?) glass of Woodford when Mark stumbled over.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay.” He flung his arms around my neck. I noticed he was a lot more muscular than I thought he would be. We danced to an 80’s number that I remembered from my childhood and Mark remembered too, from YouTube. His floppy sandy hair stuck out everywhere, and we laughed our asses off.