by Scott Duff
“Talk about conspicuous,” muttered Peter, as we sat down and looked around at the rest of the table.
“You ain’t just whistlin’ ‘Dixie’,” responded Kieran under his breath, eyeing the Summer elves over the table to his right. They were politely ignoring him as they settled in, leaving the most ornate chair empty, presumably for the still missing Princess or perhaps, the Queen. I looked to the right to see Winter elves sitting rigidly still and a similarly empty chair in their center.
“Do you suppose they’re off together plotting our demise?” I asked quietly.
“Together? Not likely,” answered Peter. “Separately, I’m sure that they’ve each got at least a hundred different ugly but methodical plans already in motion.”
Ethan chuckled at that one. I just grimaced.
MacNamara sat down before us languidly, still smiling.
“I have not… had such a… delightful time at… the games in four… hundred years,” he said. It was like talking to a man with a stutter.
“I do hope we aren’t monopolizing your time, your Grace,” I said, trying to mimic Kieran’s style when he spoke the elf-king. I wanted to take some of the attention off of Kieran for a while and give him some time.
“Not at all, McClure!” he exclaimed. “I actually wish… I had seen… the Princess’ visits… from the beginning! … Wonderfully dramatic… Both of them… did their Mothers… proud.”
“So I assume the Queens will not be joining tonight’s supper?” I asked.
“No, nothing… as mundane as … my celebration,” he responded. “And the Princesses… well … We shan’t wait… on their petulance.”
With that, doorways on the sides of the long hall silently opened and elves wearing gray waistcoats hurried out carrying silver trays with large silver domes and stepped up behind and to the left of each guest. As one, they removed the silver domes creating a light ring that tolled through the room like the bells of a cathedral. They slid the plates in front of their respective guests and stepped back to the kitchens. A few of the elves nearer us still had their plates covered with the servers pressing down on the covers and were slowly taking control of the covers from the servers with a look of growing anticipation and glee.
We were the last to be served, along with MacNamara. Ten elves came out of the side doors in a row carrying large wooden paddles on sticks in the air in front of them. One split off and turned toward the outside of the table to MacNamara, the other nine turned to the doors then swerved in to the inside of the table to us. We couldn’t see what they were carrying on the paddles, but it could only be one thing: pizza.
The first elf quite elegantly flipped twelve plates onto the table, one in front of each of us and eight more in a semi-circle around us. Then very quickly, each of the remaining elves slid the steaming, oven-hot contents of his wooden paddle onto the arrayed plates, freshly and evenly sliced. Looking over the eight pies, not only was the topping selection a nice mix, they’d varied the style: thin crust, deep dish, Chicago-style, whole wheat crust. I was drooling, I know I was.
I looked up to MacNamara. He was gnawing on what looked like a turkey leg, kinda grossly too, but Mama taught me never to comment on my host’s manners and I only wanted to know if it was okay to start eating. I heard an animal’s squeal to my left when I was asking Ethan for a slice of the Deep Dish on his side, but decided I didn’t want to watch the elf eat his live animal. At least I understood why the humans didn’t mind being separated from the elves at dinners. There wasn’t much by way of dinner conversation, even though MacNamara’s proxies didn’t eat at all, so I assumed he would have no problems speaking through them. I guess he was distracted.
A door at the far end of the hall opened with a bang against the wall. “Ah, one of… our errant supper… guests is returning,” said MacNamara, wiping his face and hands with a large white cloth napkin. From the stomping coming up behind us, I was pretty sure it wasn’t one of the Princesses. I stretched out my awareness and felt for whoever it was, rather than turning my back to my host: grandfather.
I stood, pushing the chair back, and faced him as he came up between the tables directly for MacNamara. Kieran turned in his chair, glancing up at me then watching St. Croix finish his stomping trek to the front of the room. I was wrong about his target, though. He stopped at Kieran, not MacNamara.
“Deny me now, fucker,” St. Croix growled at Kieran and threw a piece of paper at him.
Kieran picked the paper up and righted it to read, shaking his head at the outset. St. Croix started giggling maniacally. I watched him carefully while Kieran read. It looked like the Loa was riding him pretty hard as the flickering was constant. I could almost lock onto it.
“There you are, you little bastard,” I heard Ethan whisper on the other side of Kieran.
“What!” yelled Kieran, jumping up and slamming his chair back onto the floor in his fury. His face was flushed with blood, his aura flaring hard with anger. The atmosphere around us was suddenly totally empty of all ambient energy—Kieran sucked it in like a black hole. Nobody felt where it went, but everybody knew. Everyone in the hall stopped and stared at him, as if they weren’t already surreptitiously. “You have her?”
St. Croix cackled, nodding his head. “I’ll do it! I will!” he cackled, scooting back a few steps, grinning evilly.
“Give her to a third party and I will agree,” Kieran said, levelly. His anger had not receded one bit.
“What are you agreeing to, Kieran?” I asked, cautiously.
“Be certain, McClure,” said MacNamara, “You would be entering… at the third level.”
St. Croix cackled again. Señor Florian stepped past him, scowling as he passed, and asked Kieran, reaching for the paper, “May I?”
Kieran handed the paper to Florian, who read quickly through the text. He paled as he handed it back to Kieran. To St. Croix, he said, “You are shunned. Find quarters elsewhere within the hour.” To Kieran, he said, “From the third level, you cannot simply resign from competition, you have to win or lose. That is why MacNamara is saying to be certain. And losing could mean your life, Ehran, so be certain.”
“Muchos gracias, Señor Florian,” said Kieran. “St. Croix, give her to a third party and I will agree to your terms.”
“Kieran, damn it, what are you agreeing to? Who does he have?” I asked again, moving in between them, almost shouting at him.
“Olivia,” he said, looking down at me, calmly but no less angrily.
Coldness filled me from the top of my head down to the soles of my feet. We’d found my mother and she was with my grandfather. But instead of what should have been a safe and happy moment for us, all I could feel was the hatred coming off the man behind me and all I heard was the vile cackling noise coming out of his mouth. I was in shock.
“You bastard!” I shouted, whirling on him, my power rising high and hard in my body. I was ready to kill again and the Swords, both of them, were traveling down my arms to heed my call. And I blazed, just like when I trashed Harris in Atlanta, the bright red of anger this time. The Day Sword was going to slice every cell in his body so small you wouldn’t be able to get DNA evidence. The Night Sword was going to do the same to the Loa that rode him.
Kieran grabbed me around my shoulders. Ethan had me on the left, low against my leg trapping my hand. Peter had me on the right, low, and trapping my right hand.
“No, Seth, not here, not now,” pleaded Kieran in my ear. Wardens appeared in the hall on the inside of the tables, streaming in front of the guests in a pale blue line and surrounding the five of us loosely.
“Your own daughter?” I yelled at him, tears started to stream down my face.
“Whore was supposed to give you to me ten years ago,” St. Croix growled, pointing at me, scittering to the side like a crab. “McClure’s scion would have kept me going for centuries, it would. And the little slut could’ve pumped ‘em out on demand, but he did s’mpm to ‘er, he did.”
“Give Oli
via to a third party, St. Croix. Once she’s safe and without a Loa, I will agree to your terms,” Kieran said, over my shoulder. I was starting to shake with frustration, but I coaxed the Swords back up my arms. I didn’t want to relinquish the idea of slicing and dicing him, but my mother wasn’t here and the thing knew where she was. She had to come first. Still, my power did not recede nor did my anger.
“Who?” grunted St. Croix.
“North American?” offered Kieran.
St. Croix barked out a laugh and shook his head. Kieran looked around the room, catching Cahill’s eye. He nodded once quickly.
“European, then,” he growled at the old man.
St. Croix grunted. “Aw’ight then,” he muttered. He looked at Cahill and made a circular motion with his hand, finger pointing up. When nothing happened, he growled, “Release the room, boy, or y’ain’t getting’ nuttin’.”
“Let go, Seth,” Kieran whispered to me, “Try to calm yourself down.”
“It’s going to be okay, Seth. Ehran will beat him,” Ethan said confidently. “Just calm down for the time being and we’ll get your mother home safe and sound.”
“You can do this, Seth,” added Peter. “For your mother and for Ehran, just let the power flow out.”
I gave in to the sobbing and the power ebbed out of me. I didn’t know I was doing it, clamping down on the magic of the room like that, holding it away from Kieran. I went limp under the arms holding me in place. Ethan and Peter moved up and took Kieran’s place at my shoulders. St. Croix made his hand motion again and a body slammed down on the table in front of Cahill. I started for it, but Peter and Ethan still held me back.
“No, Seth, you can’t,” said Peter. “I’m so sorry but you can’t yet. These are hostage rules. Until the contest is over, she’s off-limits to us. I’m so sorry.” I hated Peter at that moment. It wasn’t his fault and I knew it and I knew I’d get over it, but still.
She looked so broken, so hurt. So far away. Cahill wrapped her up in his tuxedo jacket and gently picked her up off the table. Either he was stronger than he looked or she was wasted away to nothing. I prayed for the former as I watched him and his entourage scurry for the door.
Peter sat me down in my chair, drained and still dripping with tears.
MacNamara’s proxies spoke loudly and clearly into the room.
“The Challenge has been accepted…” said the left.
“Tomorrow at Noon…” said the right.
“Team St. Croix faces…” said the left.
“Team McClure!” said the right.
“Team?” Kieran objected. “This is a one-on-one competition!”
“No, Ehran McClure,” said the left elf. A smile was slowly curling on MacNamara’s lips while the proxies spoke for him.
“St. Croix fields a team,” the left said.
“So you must…” the right said.
“…Also field a team,” said the left.
“I warned you, McClure…” said the right.
“…To be aware…” said the left.
“…Of the rules,” finished the right.
“Damn,” said Kieran.
Chapter 19
Cahill sent word through the wardens that my mother was safely ensconced in the European delegation’s encampment and that she was free of the Loa’s parasitic control. That was all they would tell us though. Kieran sent Shrank out spying to see if he could find anything. His news was only slightly better in that he said she was getting medical attention from Cahill’s group and that they didn’t seem alarmed by her condition. Small favor, but it was something to hold onto.
They’d tried to put me to bed right after we left the dinner and I let them leave me in the dark so I could be miserable and cry in peace. If I slept at all, I don’t remember it. Shortly after daybreak, I got up and took a shower. A long, hot, steamy shower. When I got out, there were two sets of clothing, folded and piled on the bed for me. The first stack was the same as what we’d been wearing, the dark green silks. The second pile was the same color, but of a more durable material than silk, thicker and padded at the joints, long-sleeved with gloves. And pockets, lots and lots of pockets of various sizes. I picked that one. There was no way I was letting Kieran go out and risk his life for my sake while I sat on the side lines and watched.
Or while I held the purses. Now I understood Peter’s comment from a few days ago. At least the metaphor.
Peter was on the couch as I strolled through the main room. I walked out to the balcony hoping that whoever was stocking the apartment when we turned our backs had put something out to eat there. I didn’t feel like eating but if I had to fight later today, I needed to eat. I stepped out just as Kieran and Ethan let out a groan at someone’s misfortune.
“Good morning, Master Seth,” Shrank sang sedately, flying beside the table as I fixed a plate. “Please do include some of the light purple fruit with your breakfast this morning. It isn’t particularly tasteful, but it is good for what you’re about to do.”
I looked at him when he said that, thinking first that it seemed odd that he was so subdued and second that he was actually worried about my diet. What I saw was concern for me imbedded in his tiny soul. It was sweet.
“Thank you, Shrank, I’ll do that,” I said and took a few pieces of whatever the purple thing was. It looked vaguely like strawberries or maybe a small kiwi. Biting into one, I realized Shrank had lied. It was awful. It tasted like dirt and motor oil and that plastic packing material. Okay, I’d never really eaten those last two, but I could imagine they tasted like just like this purple crap. Maybe if I wedged it in between a biscuit and a piece of ham…
I sat down on the far side of Ethan and started eating, looking down onto the field to try for an idea of what was happening. They were still wearing clothes from last night. Kieran leaned forward and glanced over, probably expecting to see Peter.
“No!” he said, sternly. “Seth, no! Under no circumstances!”
I kept eating, ignoring him, and watching the field. Ethan swiveled his head back and forth between us like he was watching a tennis match, even though I wasn’t objecting. Yet.
“You are not prepared for this,” Kieran said. I just looked past Ethan at him and kept eating. I’d let him rant for a while. “You have no idea what these people are capable of, least of all St. Croix and his ilk. You could get hurt.”
“And you?” I asked, biting into a biscuit with a little honey and purple fruit, hoping it wouldn’t be too nasty.
“He has fought enough to know what to expect,” said Ethan. I hadn’t expected that, for Ethan to take his side. I figured he’d want Kieran to have all the help he could get. I glared at him. “Merely stating a fact, Seth.”
“You aren’t going out there alone, Kieran. There is no argument there,” I said. “I’m going whether you agree or not. She’s my mother.”
“And what happens if a Loa gets to you before I can stop it?” Kieran said, angrily. “What then, Seth? At that point, I’ve lost you, too.” The honeyed biscuit didn’t help with the purple fruit. It still tasted like crap. I shoved it in, chewing as little as I could to swallow it down. I stole Ethan’s glass of water off the table in front of him to wash it down and stood up to find another.
“And what happens if a Loa gets to you before Ethan can stop it?” I asked. “What then, Kieran? Then I’ve lost you and me and my mother.” There were two fresh glasses of water on the table with the food. “Shrank, what’s putting the food out?” I asked, eyeing the glasses suspiciously.
“There is a brownie troop in the apartment, Master Seth. They are seeing to your needs,” said Shrank from the railing.
“That’s creepy. There’s other people in here with us?” I asked.
“Stop changing the subject, Seth, and get back here,” Kieran called.
“They have got to go,” I said, firmly.
Shrank gasped and jumped from the railing, into the air. “Oh, no, Master Seth, please, don’t dismiss them! They’ll
die!”
“What?” I didn’t want that. “I just don’t want things I can’t see crawling around me. I don’t want them dead.”
“So you won’t make the brownies leave?” he pleaded.
“No, not if it’s going to hurt them. Of course not,” I said, “But can’t I at least see them? It’s like having a rat in the walls or something.”
“A rat wouldn’t dare make a move on a brownie’s territory,” said Shrank, rolling his eyes. “I’ll talk to them, try to make them understand you.” Shrank flew back into the apartment, low to the ground and trilling lightly in a tone I hadn’t heard him make before. At the same time, I felt a giant hand grab me by the back and turn me around to face Kieran. It felt weird to be held that way and I started squirming immediately.
“You are not fighting with us,” Kieran said firmly. He had his arms crossed on his chest. He towered over me, his arms, legs, and chest were massive compared to mine and this was not gym-buffed muscle, pumped and hardened from repetitive motion. This was working muscle, stretched and trained hard, to move in ways remembered without hesitation. He was an imposing man, even without the strength that only I could see built up in his aura.
And he was starting to tick me off. I pushed on the hand holding me off the floor with the Stone’s shield, outward, forcing the hand to release me. I dropped the few inches to the ground and crossed my arms, too. The Stone then gave me another new trick: armor. Shiny and bright, green and black, plated my skin like a snake in a diamond pattern. At the joints, thicker ribs of green wrapped around to provide further protection, just as the green uniform I wore beneath did. At my waist, the Day and Night Swords hung loosely in their scabbards, proudly announcing their readiness to me. On my back, the Quiver and Crossbow hummed their readiness.
“Put those away!” he hissed.
I shook my head no. “It’s too late for that, Kieran, and you know it. If you lose, I’ll have to use them against St. Croix anyway so it might as well be in front of everybody. They might as well know now that they don’t belong to Faery anymore.”