Death Rite Genie: An Urban Fantasy Folly

by AE McKenna

  “How’s it going, Mal?” Lucy’s voice crackled from the walkie-talkie.

  I shoved a pink Tricam into a pocket in the rock and tugged until it met resistance, then anchored in. Leaning back in my harness, I glanced down, making out her figure. “This is a good climb. Wet, but fun.”

  “That’s what she said.”

  I snorted, stepped onto a nubbin, and gripped the next crack, pulling myself up. I focused on the moment, my breathing, the soft burn of my muscles, the roar of the waterfall, evading faery traps, and sometimes Lucy’s chatter. Eventually, I came to the ledge I’d spotted and popped my head up.

  It was a cave. Probably the cave where Penny had stashed the Blarney Stone. It was an awkward transition. A protrusion showed a suitable spot to slip a nut in, but it looked off. I knocked on it, and it sounded hollow. No good; it’d crumble as soon as I put my weight on it. I sidestepped another faery trap and tested a different protrusion. Once confirming it didn’t make any funny noises, I jammed the nut in, hooked my extender and rope, and anchored in. I hoisted myself up over the ledge and sat down, catching my breath.

  I unhooked the walkie-talkie. “I’m at the cave. I’m going to set up the anchor, then drop the rope down to you.”

  “Roger!” Luce replied.

  I checked the signal on my phone. It wasn’t ideal, but I might be able to see pictures. “You have a signal? I want you to take a picture of your knot so I can approve it before you climb.”

  “Okay.”

  I wished I could do this alongside her, but top roping was the safest way to get her up here. I stood and examined the cave. It was seven feet tall, dark, and musty. A skinny boulder sat near the ledge. I summoned my drill, made two pilot holes, and inserted self-expanding anchor bolts into the rock. I refused to take any chances with Lucy’s safety. Then I tied a clove hitch knot connecting me to the anchor. Doubling down, I inserted the auto-blocking device—just in case something happened to me, it’d still catch her if she fell.

  I tossed the length of rope down.

  “Got it!” she radioed to me.

  My heart thundered in my chest, my mouth as dry as the desert. I should abort, locate the stone, and rappel down to her. But I’d already said she could do this. My phone dinged with a picture message. Her knots were perfect, as well as the ascenders’ set-up.

  “It looks great, Lucy. You did great,” I said.

  “Thanks.” She sounded unsure.

  “You can do this.”

  “Rawr! Yes, I can!”

  “Now get up here, tiger.”

  The rope grew taut in my hands and I held on. The gentle breeze cut through my soaked clothes. Now that she was climbing, she wasn’t as talkative. I didn’t want to sidetrack her from her task, but now that nothing was distracting me, all I could do was think about the dizzying length of rope she was inching up to help her mother out of a jam. Luce shouldn’t be doing any of this. She should be safe in her kitchen, baking pizzas and nagging me about pineapple. And I should’ve told her when I became open to more than friendship, but my skull had been too thick to recognize the signs until she was in front of me again, asking for help.

  “You know,” Luce’s voice crackled over the walkie-talkie, “this is working, but holy crap… I’m tired.”

  “Take as many rests as you need.” The rope stopped wiggling in my hands. “I’ve got you.”

  “Tiger, huh?” she asked.

  What the hell is she talking about? Then it dawned on me. My ears burned. “You’ve roared at me a few times.”

  Her laughter cut through at the midpoint. “Rawr! Okay, I’m resuming.”

  I peered over the ledge, watching as she easily pushed herself aside from what I assumed were faery traps and continued pulling herself up with the ascenders. Her arms would be sore in the morning, maybe by the end of the day. It took her two hours to climb, and when her ascender came within grabbing distance, I reached down and gripped her wrist, pulling her up the rest of the way.

  I wrapped her up in a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “I’m super shaky.”

  I eased her away from the ledge and we disconnected our gear from the belay.

  “I hope this isn’t a gigantic cave.” Luce started toward the shadows. “I don’t have time for this. I’ve got a shift at the restaurant tomorrow.”

  I turned my phone’s light on as well. “Good news, this isn’t a cave system. Let’s hope it’s the one Penny talked about.”

  “What does the Blarney Stone even look like?”

  “Black. You might smell its magic before you see it.”

  We fanned the cave walls, gingerly stepping around in case there were faery traps in here, too. Then I caught a whiff of wildflowers, rain, a campfire, and multitudes of other scents I couldn’t place my finger on. Luce sniffed her way in the same direction. She stopped and pointed her phone’s flashlight in the area. A larger, black, shiny rock, about a foot wide, sat against the wall. It wasn’t even concealed.

  “That was easy,” she said.

  “Yeah. I’ll carry it down.”

  “That’s best.”

  I hefted the stone. It weighed nearly seven pounds, and I could feel the magic that humans had stored in it over centuries of a well-known ritual of kissing it upside down. Lucy had backed away from me, licking her lips, her stare trained on the stone. I strapped it onto my back, then approached the ledge.

  “All right. I’ll make you a Swiss chair and lower you down,” I said. “Then I’ll rappel down after you.”

  “Wait. We’re not gonna rappel together?”

  “No, one at a time is safer, especially with this rock on my back.”

  “They do it in the movies all the time. It looks so cool.”

  I shook my head. “There are easier and safer ways to do these things, and this is one of them.”

  “Spoil sport.” She huffed, a smile teasing the corners of her lips as she peeked at me from beneath her lashes.

  If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought she was flirting with me, but we’d already agreed now wasn’t the time.

  Chapter 11

  Mal dropped next to me, unstrapped the Blarney Stone from his back, and began unhooking his rappelling gear. It was far faster than when he’d lowered me in a Swiss chair moments before, and by watching him, I was positive it would’ve been the most enjoyable thing I’d done all year.

  I examined the rock face, massaging my sore biceps. “That wasn’t anywhere near as bad as I thought it would be. Well, aside from the faery traps. I guess I thought rock climbing was more dangerous than this.”

  We stepped out from behind the waterfall, and I felt Diane once more. I hadn’t felt that she’d been cut off to me until I had access to her again. Mal stored the stone in his bottle.

  “It is dangerous.” He jerked clips through other clips and yanked the rope from around his waist. “I shouldn’t have allowed you to go up without proper training.” He met my eyes. “You listen well to directions. You impressed me.”

  I bristled. He allowed me? Pfft. He didn’t allow me to do anything. Although a small voice in the back of my brain wondered how I would’ve gotten to the cave if he hadn’t helped me. A chill ghosted my chest cavity, and I pinched my lips shut. I’d just showed I wasn’t a walking—climbing—disaster. How many more times would I need to prove myself? Will Mal always doubt me first, just like Mom? I didn’t want that in my life.

  “I wasn’t insulting you,” he murmured as he helped remove my gear.

  “I didn’t say you were.”

  “Your face did.”

  “I don’t like being doubted before I can prove myself.”

  “I get that, and the same goes for me too, Luce. I would’ve objected to anyone who’s never climbed before. Even with experience, you could’ve been hurt climbing up to the cave.” Unclipping my helmet, he regarded me as his fingers brushed my jaw. My traitorous stomach fluttered. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”


  I’d known for months my attraction was one-sided and the playful flirting was meaningless, but the way he looked at me right now made my knees weak and my fingers tingled with the urge to push the lock of hair off his forehead. I pulled my helmet off and took a half-step closer to him.

  “You’re back.” Ray propped his fists on his hips and glowered at me. “Do you have the stone?”

  “Yes.” Mal stepped around me, stashing the rest of the gear inside his bottle.

  “Then hurry.” Ray curled a lip. “My liege is waiting.”

  I followed them. “Will you give Penny her bottle now?”

  Ray chuckled. “My liege decreed Penny can’t have her bottle until she has returned with the Blarney Stone. Come. I have a skeleton key that will take us to her.”

  Great. Well, if everything went as promised, then Mom would heal in her bottle while Mal and I took Lantern roads back to Nebraska. I wondered what would happen next. I couldn’t expect him to let her wander around after she confessed to stealing the stone. Then again… No. I wouldn’t bring it up. Mal loved his new job, and I wouldn’t allow him to compromise it for me. What was done was done. I’d warned her this would happen. Mom made her bed—or bottle. Now she had to lie in it.

  Inside the alcove, Mom rested her head against the wall. Her calf was in a splint. She cracked an eyelid, then they both flew open as she sat forward. “You found it?”

  “You didn’t even try to hide it.” I couldn’t hold her gaze for long. I shifted away, propped a hand on my hip, and shrugged. “Who put all those faery traps there?”

  “Not me. They were there when I climbed it.”

  Ray summoned an acorn. “This is my liege’s bridge.”

  The acorn was plump, warm-brown with a near-golden cap, and a soft glow emanated from within. This wasn’t an ordinary acorn. Ray dropped it and ground it to dust with his boot heel. Magic suffused with the smell of a forest on a rainy day permeated the alcove, and a doorway resembling a melted mirror appeared from thin air. It shimmered like sun glinting on water, and revealed a landscape of trees boasting bright yellow, red, and orange leaves I imagined I’d only see in the northeast during Autumn. Mal stepped toward the portal.

  Ray grabbed his arm. “The women go through first.”

  Mom held her arm out to me. “Lucy, help me up.”

  Crouching next to her, I slung her arm across my shoulders and wrapped mine around her waist.

  “Try to not draw attention to yourself while we’re there,” Mom whispered against my neck. “I’ll do what I can to protect you, but you need to be very careful with what you say, honeybee.”

  If it weren’t for the frantic edge to her voice that spread gooseflesh across my body, I would’ve snapped at her. Maybe I needed to calm down with her for a moment. I didn’t know everything, and my hurt feelings would get me in trouble if I let them cloud my judgement while talking with the fae. I approached the portal. Swallowing heavily, I glanced over my shoulder and Mal nodded.

  I stepped through.

  It was like walking through pudding. Thick, resisting, and chilly like it came straight from the fridge. My ears clogged horribly, reminding me of the time I had an acute ear infection and heard water sloshing whenever I moved my head. Mom and I stumbled, and I caught myself against a skinny Rowan tree.

  The tree turned to me, a haughty expression emerging in the bark. “Excuse me.” Then it uprooted itself and stomped away. In a huff.

  “Don’t take it personally,” Mom said. “Rowan dryads are bitches.”

  I blinked. “You’d think it’d be the birches.”

  Mal coughed and I suspected he was covering a laugh. He worked his jaw while he scanned the area. “Ray, how far until we reach your liege’s territory?”

  “We’re already in it. Keep moving west. I’ll take up the rear, if you don’t mind.”

  Ugh. Why couldn’t he just say, ‘keep going straight until you hit the Kum & Go, then turn left?’ What was so cool about tossing direction names all willy-nilly? Nothing. I promise. I continued, taking the same path the bitchy Rowan tree had gone.

  My hiking boots squished in puddles amidst fallen leaves, ferns, and foliage that left wet swishes on my jeans. Don’t tell anyone, but for once I was glad I wasn’t wearing my chucks because of the holes on the side of the shoes, and to be frank, canvas isn’t waterproof. Nuts littered the ground, making the terrain easy to roll an ankle. Random drops of icy rain splattered the top of my head, soaking through my hair to my scalp and wetting the collar of my sweatshirt. I shivered. The drizzle heightened the forest’s woodsy scent with overtones of pine and fresh rain. My nose twitched. It couldn’t hide the decay or the slightly ashy smell.

  Mushrooms sprouted between thick and skinny tree trunks, and my stomach gurgled. Despite a growing hunger headache, I eyed them warily. Ever since I’d picked some mushrooms in a nearby park, Mags’s harsh warnings about poisonous mushrooms had stuck with me. And her lessons on how to spot them. Some of these were brown, some red with white spots, but the ones with the greenish-yellow cap made me wonder if fae were susceptible to death caps like humans, or if this was a sick joke.

  I could hold out for a bit. Once we retrieved Mom’s bottle, we could take a break. I had pizza dough prepared in my bottle, and a new tomato sauce she hadn’t tasted yet. We’d eat a pie or three, then be on our way home. Yet Mom’s broken leg made this journey excruciatingly slow. I squinted at the sky but even if it wasn’t overcast, the tree boughs would’ve hidden the sun. I didn’t know how far this fae’s house was, and I could feel the day ending. I saw a branch Mom could use and veered for it.

  “You can lean on that branch.” I bent to pick it up.

  “Don’t!” Ray snapped. “Take nothing that isn’t yours.”

  “It’s just a branch.” I frowned.

  “To you.” He sneered. “This could be a dryad’s branch.”

  I shivered, imagining Mom using someone’s arm as a crutch. Sighing, I straightened and swiped wisps of hair from my eyes.

  “I’ll help.” Mal moved to Mom’s other side, and together, we helped her walk easier.

  She grumbled the entire way under her breath, and I swear some trees huffed at the disturbance. They swept away revealing a clearing with a red-orange-yellow leaf floor. Purple and brown mushrooms grew on tree stumps and fallen logs. The rain stopped, yet it pattered against an invisible awning. In the middle, an elegant woman sat at a gorgeous natural table with a teapot, matching cups, a swiss roll with a tantalizing purple swirl, and the cutest dog I’d ever seen. Jack Russell terriers are sweet. This one was white with brown floppy ears, a brown patch surrounding one eye, and a heart-shape spot on his rump.

  The woman, whose rich brown hair was tied in a precise knot, wore a black Victorian dress, complete with a bustle. She ignored us, daintily sipping her tea. Magic wended through the clearing smelling like Thanksgiving dessert: pumpkin spice and cranberry sauce, with just a hint of a compost bin. The dog yipped, his tail vibrating in the leaves before he launched to his feet and sniffed my shoes. The woman’s campfire eyes snapped to me, and my fight-or-flight instincts kicked in. Mostly, flight.

  Ray bent at the waist. “My liege, some complications arose, and Avalon was injured. These two retrieved the Blarney Stone in her stead and have brought it with them.”

  Sythradiafol lifted a slender brown brow and peered down her nose at us. “I did not give express permission to call for help.”

  “Believe me, she didn’t ask.” I slapped a hand over my mouth.

  The fae took my measure, her full lips curving into an indulgent smile. “Ah, yes. Blood calls to blood, I suppose. Tell me, do all djinnis feel the call to help when one of their own is in danger, or is it close families?”

  Ray stared too hard between my mother and me. Narrowing his eyes, he glared darkly at Mal. Mom sighed—the kind she’d used to give me when she found candy wrappers in my room after telling me I couldn’t have any more. The dog sniffed at Mal’s shoes, then t
he ankles of his pants before returning to me. He leaned back and placed his paws on my calf, his nose working overtime. I dropped my hand to let him sniff me. He probably smelled cheese and wanted a taste. He licked my fingers. Instead of being slobbered on, his tongue passed through my fingers. The warm sensation was fleeting, and I couldn’t stop my grin no matter how strange that was. He was adorable.

  Sythradiafol’s wide, upturned eyes latched onto me. I hated having her undivided attention. Her dog returned to her side, his tail drooping.

  I squirmed on my feet. “Ah, I don’t know. She disappeared on me, and I thought… I thought she was in danger, so I tracked her down.”

  “And you recovered the piece of the Blarney for your mother?”

  I nodded.

  “Give it to me.”

  Her command was like when I wore gold djinni shackles and the bottle took over, forcing me to recite terms of a contract I’d never read. My body reacted, but I didn’t have the stone; I could only hold out my hands. Mom stumbled and I quickly steadied her again.

  Mal summoned the Blarney Stone from his bottle and offered it to Sythradiafol. She stared at it, her campfire eyes sparking before she threw her head back and laughed. Her dog yipped and growled at her, piddling a little under her chair.

  “Quiet, you mongrel, or I’ll have you stuffed!” Sythradiafol flicked her hand and the puddle of pee evaporated. Then she sighed dramatically and gestured at the stone. “What is that?”

  “The Blarney Stone,” Mom said.

  Sythradiafol’s expression hardened as the smell of rotting foliage grew stronger. “Do you mean to betray me, djinni? Do you not think that I, Sythradiafol of the Fall Court, the First Contriver, would be so easily deceived by a stone imbued with petty human emotions?”

  I gaped. “It’s a fake?”

  “The child knows.” Sythradiafol’s contemptuous sneer made me feel an inch tall.

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked Mom through clenched teeth. “You made us climb a rock wall riddled with faery traps to fetch a fake stone for you?”

  Mom flinched.