by Dawn, Autumn
Ash remained calm. “Easy, Ponyboy. I fed last night. The girl is in no danger…now.”
Repulsed, Billy tried to edge away, but there was nowhere to go. A glance behind her showed that Carrie had gathered her friends and was beating a hasty retreat. They huddled by the soda machines, chattering like stealthy magpies. She prepared to follow.
“Stay,” the troll said mildly. “If you know I am here, then you know I am not with her.”
“I don’t want you with either of them,” Eyrnie growled. His hands were poised on the table as if to spring over, and his skin had darkened slightly, hinting at hide.
Still relaxed, the troll considered him. “So little control. Are you going to show your true self, dark horse?”
Eyrnie snorted, but reined himself in with effort. He was sweating as he stared down the troll with dark, wild eyes. There was a hint of red in the chocolate irises. “You don’t belong here.”
“Does any of us? Who is the bigger monster, Ponyboy? I only covet the flesh; your kind destroys the mind.”
Rage flashed in his eyes. Billy covered Eyrnie’s hand with her own before he could answer. Formally, yet with a tenderness borne of years of friendship, she said in the Old Tongue, “Dear friend. Peace.”
He quieted. He was still breathing hard, but the rage dimmed.
She was not sure where the tenderness came from; she was not the maternal kind, and they did not have a romantic relationship. Perhaps it had been instinct and nothing more.
Regardless, a remnant of that soft calm remained as she turned to the troll. “Why are you here, now?”
He looked skeptical and somewhat impressed. “Softly speaks our fairy queen.”
She frowned at his non-answer. “I’m pretty sure you got that wrong. We had to read Midsummer Night’s Dream.” It was in the dreaded Shakespeare quarter in her senior year. She’d been bored out of her mind, and it had been a struggle not to sleep during the videos of the play. As if old Shakey had known anything about fairies! Still, some of it must have rooted in her brain.
He grinned. “Have I? Shall I inform the snakes and blindworms to take a hike, dear Tatiana? As penance I shall slay the thorny hedge-hog and smite the blind worm.”
She grunted. “I already slew the hedgehog with my hairbrush this morning, and coffee cured the blind worm.” She couldn’t help a small smile at her joke.
Eyrnie looked at her like she’d just fallen off a pumpkin wagon. “You’re joking with him?” he asked incredulously.
She grimaced at him. “I joke with you. Besides, he might be a bone-crushing monster, but you have to admit he’s a step up from Carrie.” She looked at the troll severely. “That doesn’t mean I’ll let you eat her, though.”
He smiled. “You asked why I’m here. You amuse me; enough that I chose to prolong my hunt.”
She thought about that for a moment. “Are you giving me a choice? Either I can baby sit Carrie or I can hang with you?”
“That’s messed up,” Eyrnie complained. “If you’re around Billy, then I have to put up with you, too.”
“You could always leave,” the troll said coolly. The green in his eyes grew murky with yellow.
“Boys!” Billy said sharply, putting the brakes on a fight. The tension between them was making her skin prickle. “Look, you’re both misfits. I don’t know why either one of you thinks this is worth fighting over.” Ignoring Eyrnie’s indignant expression, she studied the troll. “Are you serious? If I let you hang around, you’ll leave Carrie alone?”
“I’ll warn you before I eat her,” Ash said generously.
“Big of you,” Eyrnie retorted.
She didn’t like it. It was plain that Eyrnie and the troll were not going to be friends. For that matter, she agreed with Eyrnie; she didn’t want to hang with a flesh-eating monster, either. Still, she wasn’t so petty that she would ignore this opportunity. “Fine, but I’m not going to amuse you. I’m not a sideshow freak.”
Ash smiled.
Eyrnie growled—a long, low rumble.
Billy wasn’t in the mood to be charitable. “Oh, have some dignity, won’t you? You’re not a dog. Besides, lunch is over.” Finally! She was starting to develop a headache. Probably had something to do with the rigid muscles protesting in her back. She might have to allow the troll close, but her body was pitching a fit.
Feeling morose, she trudged to her rented locker, wishing the troll wouldn’t follow her. It made her shoulder blades itch. She opened her locker, hoping he’d move on…and was hit with the most hideous stench.
Revolted, she staggered back, covering her nose in self-defense. Eyes watering, she stared at her locker, but could find no immediate source for the smell.
“Eh! What is that?” Eyrnie asked nasally, pinching his nose. All around them students were gagging, running away. A few brave ones huddled at the end of the hallway, well back from the staggering reek.
Unaffected, Ash strolled up to her locker and poked inside. He sniffed deeply. “Pixie dust.”
Billy’s eyes flashed to the onlookers. She caught a glimpse of Carrie’s gloating face just before she ducked out of sight. She barred her teeth and immediately regretted it as the smell coated her tongue.
Eyrnie poked her. “Turn it off, would you? I’m dying here!”
She reluctantly peered into the locker with the troll. It was much, much worse up close, and she actually felt faint. It was dog farts and stale urine, rotten eggs, skunk and vomit all at the same time. She struggled to track down the suggestions Carrie had whispered to each grain of dust, but it took breath to counter them, and it was hard to pronounce the Old Tongue properly while holding her nose.
Ash finally sighed. Nudging her out of the way, he told the dust, “No one can smell you.” With that simple command, suddenly they could breathe again.
“Man, she really worked on that one,” Eyrnie said when he could safely inhale.
“I hate her.” Billy gripped the locker door, staring blindly into its depths. Her headache had gained hurricane force, causing tears to spring to her eyes. Of course, they might also be tears of rage. How dare Carrie pull this now! She had scooped her niece’s fat out of the fryer, and this was the thanks she got. She wanted to scream.
“You’re ditching?” Eyrnie asked in concern when he saw her pulling her helmet out. “I know Carrie’s a mutt, but you can’t let her win like this. We can take her.”
“I’m going to kill her if I don’t leave,” Billy muttered through her teeth. Fury sat sour in her stomach, made her heart rate spike. There were a thousand ways to punish her niece, but just now, she wanted blood. The craving made her blood buzz, her teeth ache. She needed space between them before she did something rash.
Ash was looking at her with interest, but he didn’t say anything.
She warned him anyway, “Remember our deal.”
He pulled out a scary smile just for her. “Don’t worry, lamb chop. I told you I found you entertaining. I can’t wait to see how you punish the girl.”
It was scary to be on the same wavelength as him, she thought as she strode out the door. And for a moment, she wondered; what would it be like to be as conscious-less as a troll? Would she enjoy shredding Carrie without guilt?
Shivering with a sudden chill, she hurried on her way. She needed some fresh air.
7. Nightmare
“I had to have a reason for jumping up from the table so quickly,” Carrie said in her defense. “Besides, my friends expect it of me.” Billy had summoned them to her house to put a stop to future foolishness. If Maura wouldn’t act, she would.
Billy’s eyes bugged at that lame excuse, but before she could challenge it, Carrie’s mother spoke up.
“No harm was done. Besides, Billy defused the dust fast enough,” she said reasonably. “And how will you girls learn if you don’t practice from time to time?” She smiled at Billy. “I was very impressed by the clever way you convinced the troll to leave her alone. It’s a good move, keeping him close like
that.”
Billy pursed her lips. She saw where this was going. Carrie was going to walk out of a beating unless she thought fast. She smiled evilly. “He didn’t promise to leave her alone forever, just to warn me. In light of that, I think the two of us should practice. A lot.” So Billy could thrash the snot out of her. Unless Carrie had drastically improved, Billy would make hash of her. It would make her feel a lot better.
She wasn’t too upset about the stinky locker. That wasn’t even on the same scale as being saddled with a troll for the foreseeable future. That made her mad. That was all Carrie’s fault.
Really, a thrashing was the least Carrie deserved.
Sadly, it didn’t seem as if she would get it.
“Another time,” Aunt Maura said, glancing at her watch. “I’m afraid we have an appointment.”
She honestly didn’t want to start a fight, but Billy could not let them walk away. They needed this resolved. “When I’m done here.” She stared at Maura and then fixed her gaze on Carrie. It was past time they dealt with this feud between them. When Billy put her foot down, there would be no struggle. “Carrie, you will stop sabotaging me at school. I am done with this.” Magic wrapped thick around her voice, and she saw Carrie back off a step. Unable to protest the clan magic, she lowered her eyes.
Maura drew in a deep breath, and visibly swallowed. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, but there was rage in her body language. “Didn’t you say the troll was amused by your pranks, my lady? What will he do if they stop?”
Billy wanted to flinch at the honorific. Maura had never called her anything respectful, and it made her uneasy. She didn’t let it show, however. “It doesn’t matter. I have to kill him anyway. While I’m finding a way to do that, I want the distractions to stop.”
No one argued. No one agreed, either. Billy didn’t miss the distinction as she ordered them to go.
Grumbling, Billy went into the house and made some tea. She needed some quiet time to sort through things.
Her mother had made that tea for her. She sighed over the cup, thinking wistfully of better times. She’d first had this blend on the back porch with her mother. She’d made it especially for Billy, and she remembered her first sip. It had been a test.
“What do you think?” her mother had asked.
Pixies learned early how to identify herbs, even in combination. Billy had thought for a little bit, then said confidently, “Lemon balm, mint, chamomile, a touch of lavender and…rose? Since when do you put rose in this mix?”
“Bud or hip?”
“White rosebud,” Billy said with a frown. “From my favorite bush. You know, that thing will never bloom if you keep massacring all the buds.” She’d spent a great deal of time sniffing the new roses as they came into The Flower Power, and this was one of the best she’d ever smelled. So many of the roses were colorful, but downright stinky. She didn’t understand plant breeders. Who would want a stinky rose?
“Collecting. You know I won’t kill it. Besides, I wish to have some of the hips, so I will allow it to bloom now.”
Mollified, Billy studied the woman she’d thought was her Gran. They hadn’t been on good speaking terms since Gran had declared her plan to match Billy up with an elven consort. She wondered jadedly if this was to be a harangue.
“I wanted to talk to you about our disagreement. I let my temper get the best of me,” Gran had admitted.
Billy raised her brows. That was quite a concession, nearly an apology, in fact.
“You must understand how strongly I feel about this. Though things ended badly between the king and I, it was a great honor to bear your mother. You have royal blood, and that is no little thing. It is my duty to see the line replenished, renewed. Only a royal alliance can do that.”
Billy had stared at her grandmother over her teacup. “It seems you’re gambling on a lot of things. A noble liking me, getting me pregnant—which you keep saying it’s tough to do; me being willing to go through all that…which is your biggest hurdle right there. I’m flat out telling you; I’m not going to do it. I’m sorry, but no.” Billy’s voice remained quiet, but there was steel there. She didn’t like it, but when she had to, she could refuse her grandmother.
She’d thought that had been the end of the matter. She’d been a fool.
Billy carefully rinsed her cup and went to her room.
Feeling the old defiance, she sat down on her bed with her homework. Funny how little things could make her feel like she was right back in high school.
She smiled sardonically, knowing that most kids would have rebelled by avoiding their math, not doing extra pages of it. She had just been so tired of looking stupid at school. She knew she was as smart as anyone there, and it had embarrassed her to bring home the grades she did. It might not have been her fault that she didn’t have time to complete assignments, but she was the one who looked lazy when she handed in incomplete work, or ducked her head to avoid being called on because she didn’t study. She tried, fell asleep trying, but the groceries needed to be bought and the bills paid. Even in high school, she’d shouldered most of the financial burdens.
Her job at The Flower Pot had demanded a lot out of her, even if she only worked four days a week, after school and weekends. Her mother had enchanted the garden to produce year-round and kept quail that laid eggs, but there was the electric bill, clothes to be bought and gas for the vehicles. Nothing was free.
It was still a struggle. On top of everything else she had to do, she now had a troll to deal with.
Billy scowled and tossed aside her books. She lay on her quilt and stared at the ceiling, sparing the troll some thought. She’d looked up his last name. Bergtagen meant “taken to the mountain” in Scandinavian. It also meant “bewitched”. An English equivalent was “taken by the fairies”, which could mean that someone was not quite right. In the old tales, of course, people were literally taken by the fae.
She knew the troll was not using his real name. True names had power in the Old Tongue; that was how magic worked. To know a thing’s true name was to be able to manipulate it. It only worked on inanimate objects in her experience; to work on the living was dark magic. A thing with a will should never be subjugated.
She wondered why Ash had chosen that name. Was it his German origins or a sense of humor? A hint of his intentions?
That didn’t make sense, though. As far as she knew, the troll meant to eat Carrie, not steal her away. Oh, the website she’d gotten the name from had mentioned old fairy tales, but she dismissed them. Like a troll was going to carry her niece Underhill to be his bride. Her mother’s books had been very clear that a troll’s most powerful trait was hunger. Even if he could impregnate a pixie, it would take amazing control for him to let her live long enough to give birth. Sharing a cave with her for ten months (fae had a longer gestation time than humans) would be like Billy leaving a life-sized Godiva chocolate statue unlicked. It wasn’t going to happen.
Her thoughts began to drift. Somehow her image of a chocolate statue turned into a living chocolate Indian brave. She imagined rippling muscles and hard thighs as she chased him through a forest of spruce and birch, his loincloth fluttering enticingly. She was smiling as she drifted to sleep.
The dream had nothing to do with chocolate. Billy sat on a dark rock overlooking a silvery-black lake of liquid metal. As she stared at the lake, a stallion’s head broke the surface, rising completely dry from the depths. Its fiery red eyes fixed on her as the powerful neck rose, followed by a deep chest.
“Eyrnie,” she sighed. “You know I have school tomorrow. I’m going to be bushed if I run with you.” There was no “if”, of course. When a pooka came for you, you rode. One could not refuse the Night Stallion.
She didn’t want him to know she knew that, though. She didn’t want him thinking he had the upper hand. Eyrnie needed to be managed carefully, lest he get delusions of power.
“Chocolate Indians, Billy? Are you finally going through puberty?” He placed
one steel hoof on the smooth surface and walked to her, moving with the smooth grace of a perfect gait.
“If you don’t like my dreams, you shouldn’t snoop,” she informed him loftily. She couldn’t resist a fond pat on his shoulder, though. She’d almost forgotten how steel muscles felt under silky hide. She’d always loved horses, but couldn’t afford to ride often. Midnight gallops with Eyrnie were always a treat.
It had been a while since he’d shown up. His emerging power had made his control touchy at times, and he’d said it wasn’t safe. That he was here now said he was pretty confident that he had a handle on it; and confident that she was strong enough to show no fear if he did slip. Admitting fear to a pooka only encouraged misbehavior.
“So what’s the occasion?” she asked, deliberately stalling. She couldn’t give in too easily to her desire to ride. It was his desire, too, and too compelling to resist long. The trick was to fight it long enough to assert a measure of dominance. A pooka uncontrolled had the ability to run until she was nothing but rotting bones; a skeleton clinging to his back as they raced across the midnight moors.
Since she had no interest in becoming a screaming mind trapped within a grinning skull, she waited.
He pawed the ground, just once. “I thought we should check in on the troll tonight. See if he’s keeping his part of the bargain.” Battle readiness rolled off him in hot waves. He was hoping for a fight.
She sighed. “Great. If he’s not, it’s you and me charging at him. Should I bring a pike or a gun?” She was only half-joking. Steel would piece him, but she didn’t want to be in arms reach of him when it did.
She frowned as something occurred to her. “Wait a minute! We’re in a dream. I couldn’t do anything to him if we did find him misbehaving. Unless…would my magic work if I’m not really there?” She frowned in confusion. There was a hazy quality to her thoughts in the dream world. She couldn’t seem to pin down an answer.
Eyrnie’s chuckle rolled around in his deep chest. “Just get on.”