Hound

by Caleb James

  “A brilliant strategy, my queen,” Dorothea gushed as ogre and pixie, highborn and serf, all turned to dust… heads. “They will follow you anywhere.”

  Yes, May agreed. Grateful to be able to communicate to Dorothea. Grateful to have a friend. And ever mindful not to eat her. You follow without the dust. Her limited reasoning wondered at Dorothea’s motivations. Tit for tat, what’s in it for you?

  “You have raised an army. They are tied to you by the dust.”

  May lowered her head and nodded toward Dorothea. It had become their signal.

  Without hesitation Dorothea’s pincer-like hand touched down gently on May’s left temple. The connection was strong and instant.

  An army of dustheads. “They will not betray you.” You do not take dust.

  Dorothea sensed the queen’s question and felt her presence inside her head, searching for motives. She held still. “My queen, I am yours.”

  May sniffed and searched. There was much to be found in Dorothea’s head. Memories of happier times when she was not covered in this thick white hide. When she’d worn pretty dresses and had diamonds woven in her hair. She caught darker scenes of Dorothea with her enemies, of which there were always many. Dorothea laying down her traps. She is faithful. And then a thought so disturbing it caused her to recoil. She loves me.

  “Yes,” Dorothea whispered. An acid-yellow tear dribbled down her cheek. “I need no dust to follow.”

  May turned back and surveyed her army. So many. I have so many. It’s good.

  “And more each day.” Dorothea swatted at her tear.

  They’ll do. May sniffed hard through her slit-like nostrils. They will follow me anywhere for the dust. Even the danger she represented, having just devoured the occupants of a village, would not hold them back.

  “And if you grow hungry,” Dorothea added, at times not even needing the physical connection to catch the wonder of her queen’s thoughts, “they’ll walk willingly into your jaws. And it is essential for your great work that you feed. Their magic fuels the fairy fire.”

  Yes, but you I will not eat. Her gaze alit on an ogre that towered over the others. Tasty.

  He caught her gaze and then looked down. He dropped on bended knee, an obvious sign of submission. No, he is mine. He held motionless, the hundred yards between them no protection. You may live… for now.

  “You can always eat him later,” Dorothea suggested. “But as he is, big, dumb, and strong, he will be of use.”

  May turned to the west. She sniffed again. Come out, come out. You cannot hide from me. Her frustration welled and doubt clouded her thoughts. The other two hafflings were in the See. Have they taken him away?

  “No, Your Highness. He is hidden, but he is here and near.”

  May roared. The sound of her anguish was echoed by her followers.

  “He is here,” Dorothea tried to reassure her.

  But May’s inner pain and longing were not slaked. Where are you? Tears fell and burned the ground. She wept in frustration and from a deep loss whose source she could not find. I hurt.

  Dorothea reached out her forelimb.

  May turned away. She stopped. Something had changed. Her focus shifted from the last of the haffling children. She turned inward. Something has changed. I am close to myself. Just hours before she had felt with certainty that something bad had befallen her other half, but the connection, the invisible links that held her parts together, had been stretched… between realms. Like the strings on a violin, her failure in the See had resonated, but now…. I am close. I am here. As she allowed her mind to wander and play at the connection with her other part, her rage boiled. What have they done to me? She butted her head against Dorothea and nearly knocked her over.

  Dorothea braced and put her hand to May’s temple.

  Show me what they’ve done to me. To the other part of me.

  Dorothea’s clever brain reached into May’s memories. She saw the queen trapped in her salamander form in the Mist. She watched as the queen split open her skin, and where she was one, she became two. One half vanished into the human realm, and the other was here. This was not the information the queen wanted. But the sequence of events allowed Dorothea to follow the trail. “Your sister Lizbeta brought your other half here… to the Center.”

  How dare she.

  Dorothea, no stranger to May’s rages, swallowed and continued. “They hold her prisoner deep within the earth.”

  How dare…. But then, as if a light switch had been thrown, the faintest whiff of something different pulled her back. Haffling! She sniffed again. There was no mistaking the youngest one. He’s here.

  “Yes, my queen. Here and near.”

  Hope swelled. May fixed on the direction where the smell wafted the strongest. It blew in on gusts that crossed the Western Sea’s eastern shore.

  She searched the verdant landscape, with orchards in bloom, rolling hills dotted with thatched-roof villages amid crumbling ruins of once-lavish villas. In the distance she sensed, rather than saw, the sea and, rising like a theater curtain, Lizbeta’s wretched mist.

  Using her lungs like bellows, she tasted the haffling’s molecules. He is close. Her tail dug into the soft ground and disturbed a family of frosted mini-gnomes, which she scooped and gobbled.

  As bones crunched amid muffled screams, she purred and sniffed. Come out, come out, wherever you are.

  Dorothea pointed to a space between two crumbling structures not more than a mile away. “There. Something is concealed. I see the shimmer break between real and unreal.”

  Yes. She hacked up a small wad of fire and spewed it into the air. She watched as it arced high and then returned to the earth with a whistle and shriek. The missile struck something solid. She squinted as the air shimmered. She spat a second, a third, a fourth, and a fifth fireball. Like playing a game, she outlined the dimensions of a concealment spell.

  “They will try to run,” Dorothea advised. “They will have a bolt-hole.”

  May was on the move. She raced toward the hidden building, her thoughts riveted on a single goal—haffling.

  Behind her, Dorothea struggled to keep up as May’s legions of dusted fey swarmed forward on wing and foot. Five fairy fire projectiles would produce a prodigious crop of dust, which they would fall upon like jackals.

  But May had no thoughts for any of them as she hurled herself into the concealment spell, breached it, and with a crash of glass, timber, and stone, she vanished from sight.

  Eight

  FINN OBSERVED the crowd swell in Gran’s apartment. It wasn’t just putting names to faces, but more complex as his reality of what it meant to be human and a part of this planet was assaulted. Dark-haired Alex Nevus and his boyfriend, Jerod Haynes, had arrived first. Which was fine, except a small black fairy with gold tattoos and pointy ears hovered on Alex’s shoulder. Her name was Nimby, and he also knew that a month prior he wouldn’t have been able to see her.

  The others… creatures, beings, he didn’t know what the PC term was for the model-beautiful crew. Many had artfully concealed surgical scars from pointy ears bobbed and other bits of unhuman anatomy that could be imagined, and occasionally glimpsed, from under their clothes. Here a tail, there a tightly folded wing with veins like a leaf. Some he recognized from the night of a thousand fires. Each had been targeted by May, their homes set ablaze as she followed behind and dined. As horrific as that night had been for New Yorkers, it held a special terror for those who knew its true cause and what May had attempted—an overthrow of worlds.

  “The problem,” Alex began, “is the passage between the See and the Unsee.”

  Finn looked at Alex, young and confident and, like Charlie with Liam, in love with his boyfriend, Jerod.

  Someone for everyone… except me. He looked around Gran’s crowded kitchen.

  A murmur bubbled through the assembled, all aware of this central truth of the dimensions. Travel came at a cost. For some it would be their magic; for others, they’d sprout a def
ormity. But the most common was insanity. It had happened to Alex’s mother, Marilyn, and it most certainly had happened to Queen May.

  It added gravitas to what was being proposed. The two dozen or so creatures who had fled their world for this one had done so at tremendous risk. They were refugees who left with their lives and nothing else. It spoke to May’s brutal regime. What was more admirable was they all appeared willing, eager almost, to bring the fight to her.

  Charlie spoke, his gaze fixed on Liam. “The exception to the rule is love, requited and reciprocated.”

  Lianna, a sylphlike blonde woman, rolled her eyes. “That’s great for the two of you. Me, not so lucky in that department. And that one”—her focus on Finn—“you’re saying he has a part in this, possibly a big part. No predicting what will happen to him… to any of us. So we get over there, and suddenly you have a bunch of silly sprites and pixilated pixies. I can’t see that being any use.”

  Alex spoke. “You’re right. And that’s why you don’t go.” He turned and made eye contact with everyone. “None of you do. Our numbers are small. We don’t know what we’ll face here… or there. The only ones to cross are those with a chance of making it in one piece.” He looked at Finn.

  “So who made you boss?” Finn asked, having met Alex before. And fairy world traveler or no, the kid was pushy.

  Alex smiled. “My mom did. Here’s the deal, Finn. If Charlie’s Gran is right, you’re needed. But I can’t think of anything that will get you from here to there in one piece.”

  “Yeah, memo received.” Finn took inventory of his life, living on the same street he grew up in on Staten Island. His mom, who knew he was gay but continued to try to fix him up with eligible women. His occasional forays into dating, mostly with guys who wanted a hookup and nothing more. And he thought of Rory and of how, after more than a decade, the pain was still raw. It was as though there were something hollow inside him, a hole that never closed. Sure, he loved his job, though not the mass of busywork waiting for him…. As they talked about the trip leaving people broken, he knew that wouldn’t matter, because he already was. “I’m in,” he said. If I’ve got something May wants, she can have it. She can have it all. I’m done, and this is how I go out.

  Nine

  REDMOND FINGERED the ruby against his chest as he looked through the water window of May’s cell. He instructed the guards, “Keep me in sight.” She grows solid. Thoughts tortured him with the undeniable truth. I cannot hold her. And I don’t have the resolve to kill her.

  “Yes, Doctor.” The ogre inserted the key as Redmond drew the magic that turned it.

  He entered. The queen’s postpassage instability, or travel sickness as it was euphemistically called, had eased to the point where the beautiful blonde with amber eyes stayed mostly fixed. She’d done her hair. Half was up, and half hung loose around her shoulders. So too her outfit, half dark green satin party dress and half camo, gave her a harlequin appearance. “My queen,” he began.

  “Yes, odious little man.” She smiled, clearly pleased at how much smoother her speech came.

  In her brief hospitalization, Redmond had learned several things. The queen was carnivorous; she reeked of fairy dust, which if he weren’t careful would become a huge issue for him; and given half a chance, she’d eat him.

  “Tell me if your needs are being met.”

  She paused. “Tell me if you watch my every move.”

  “Of course.” And while the fey did not lie, Redmond could have obfuscated. But to no good purpose. He needed her trust. “You are at the Center’s Hospital, the Center for Fey Development.” He chose his words with care, as there was no way to sugarcoat what this place was. “This is where the most dangerous criminal elements… those who also have mental disturbances, are sent.”

  She threw back her head and laughed.

  It was unexpected. “You find that amusing.”

  She twisted her lips, and for an instant her mouth shifted back to the slit-lip maw of the beast. “I find it pathetic, little squeak. I am your queen. I will not be judged. Not by you, not by my sisters. So Lizbeta sent me here. Too amusing. I can’t imagine how we shall pass the time, though I suspect you have plans with your clever brain.” She inhaled. “And that smell, and I’m not referring to the fear that leaches through your pores and causes dampness under your arms. Show me what you conceal around your neck.”

  He felt her attempt to control his limbs. Not a glamour but a more brute form of control spell. She’s testing the waters, wants to see what of her magic still works. It left him with a decision: Do as she says and let her think I’m easily controlled or ignore. You need her trust. Earn it. He resisted her thrall and stayed put. He met her gaze and pulled out the ruby.

  A long forked tongue poked through her lips, the camouflage blobs of her outfit changed colors, and the half of her hair in a bun came undone as the other side twisted into a french knot. “Give me that.”

  “I don’t think that’s in my best interest, Your Highness.”

  She hissed. “You don’t know what it is. It is not yours. It is mine.”

  “I do.” He gauged her reaction. Her form was now unstable, though judging by the strain on her face, she was trying to control it.

  “Then tell me.” She lay back and tried to solidify her shifting appendages and errant ensemble.

  He gazed into the gem. It glowed. “It’s a houndstone.”

  “Not a houndstone, you moron. The houndstone. It does not belong to you.”

  “It was given to me by your sister. I’d say a gift from a queen makes it mine.”

  And then she did something unexpected. She wept. “It was not hers to give. It is mine. It was mine.”

  He gentled his voice and subtly applied his own unique glamour, which unlike the more standard forms, came not with the promise of sex or wealth or power, but with warmth, caring, and compassion. It was Redmond’s special gift and what made the most hardened criminals pour out their hearts to him.

  Whether weakened by the jewel or his glamour, May spoke. “It is mine.” Her eyes misted with a milky haze. “It was a gift of betrothal… a gift of betrayal.” She gasped. “And I had forgotten it.”

  He trod lightly and let the warmth of his healing magic fill the cell. “It is safe in here, my queen. Tell me your sorrow.”

  Like a switch was thrown, the haze left May’s eyes. “You are tricky.” She spat up an orange-seed-sized ball of fairy fire. It landed at his feet, and the ground hissed. “Damn!” Her eyes narrowed. “That was meant to be a direct hit.” She appeared perplexed. “Of course, it protects you.” She sounded tortured. “Like the sugary coating on a chocolate treat. It is mine. It was not Lizbeta’s to give. And I do not remember. Tell me how she came by it. Tell me how I lost it.”

  As it burned through the carpet and created a tiny crater in the impenetrable rock, he smelled the fairy fire. I have to get out of here.

  Hanging on to the bed with talons, she eyed him. “I see you’re no stranger to dust. If you’d like to roll a couple of bunnies, I won’t tell.”

  The hunger was strong—one hundred years sober and now this. “I’ll return in the morning.”

  She chuckled. “Yes, Doctor. And you’d best hang on to your stolen bauble, though I suspect at day’s end, I won’t be the cause of your undoing. You will. And I will take back the thing that is mine….” Her voice drifted as her brow flattened. “I cannot remember how I lost it.”

  Backing out of her cell on shaky legs, all he could think of was how good a hit of dust would be. Like oil on troubled seas. It would give him peace. It will ruin you.

  As if reading his mind, she croaked an ancient tune.

  “Fairy fire, fairy fire, come and see my fairy fire. Fairy dust, fairy dust, come and taste my fairy dust.”

  Ten

  MILES FROM the Center, salamander May panicked as she broke through the concealment spell. No! Her eyes blazed as the spell’s force struck her, while a sword attempted to pierce her fles
h. It tickled her shoulder. She pivoted, gripped it in her jaw, and shattered the blade. The spell was another matter. It tangled like a spider’s web. The more she struggled, the tighter it clung.

  She snarled and twisted as it grabbed and restrained her. Her stout limbs scrambled for solid ground as timbers and plaster fell all around. She panicked and thought of Lizbeta’s tethers. No!

  “Your Highness,” Dorothea shouted from behind her. “Do not struggle. It feeds the magic. Calm yourself.”

  Had it been anyone else, May would have ignored the suggestion. But Dorothea had proved herself true. Through labored breaths, she slowed her struggles. And there, amid shattered walls, she spotted her target. The redheaded haffling boy, held tight in his mother’s embrace, and behind them both, Cedric Summer.

  “Traitors!” Dorothea shouted. “How dare you assault the queen!”

  “She betrayed her people,” Marilyn Nevus spat back. “She comes to steal my child, as she has done before. She cannot have him.”

  Salamander May grew calm in body while her emotions fumed. The spell loosened its hold. She broke free and, shaking like a wet dog, scattered the sticky shards that tangled in her talons and clogged her nostrils. Nasty. She sneezed, and trails of fairy fire burned what remained of Cedric’s concealment ward.

  With Dorothea at her right, she stomped into the once-hidden space. Goody. And there are my three little pigs. And third time’s a charm. She stared at Adam Nevus, the last of the three haffling children, and stopped. In human years, he couldn’t have been more than seven.

  “My lady, tell me.” Dorothea touched her side, and May’s thoughts flowed to her.