Emerald City Dreamer

by Luna Lindsey

  “Is that so? And just how do you go about doing that?” Jett crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. The gentle wind nudged the clouds and now brought her answers.

  “They must be studied, understood, dissected. I create inventions and spells to hurt and trap them.” The fetch winced at the word trap, and then returned to the Sandy-persona. “I have collected a group of intelligent people who have the same goal.”

  Fiagai, as she feared. She had to protect her duine chlainne. Jett carefully chose her words so as not to alert this false-version of the hunter that it was in the presence of its prey. “And where do you find these other people, people who hate the fae as much as you?”

  “I recruit them.”

  Green leaves fell from the trees. Her wind shook them down. “And just how do you recruit them?”

  “We hold meetings. Support group meetings. People attend, and from there we find out who is serious.”

  “I knew it,” Ivy whispered beside her. “Let me go to the next meeting. It’s this Friday. I will kill her for you.”

  “Ivy, tell me. Is this Lynne? Is this what Lynne looks like?”

  Ivy shook her head vigorously, her pigtails swinging back and forth. “No. This is not her. Although I am most assuredly certain that loathsome Lynne and the abominable Sandy Windham work together.”

  “You will not go to the meeting, and you will do nothing… yet. I’m sending Ramón.”

  Ivy pouted. “Yes, milady.”

  Jett turned to the fetch. “Where do you live?”

  The figure began to blink again.

  “Do you know where you live?” Jett pressed.

  “S–” Blink. “Some questions I do not know how to–” Blink. “–say. I know, but cannot explain.”

  “Locations, they’re hard for you?”

  “Y–” Blink. “Yes. I can only… walk there.”

  “The words are hard. I understand.”

  “The trap! It burns!”

  Jett felt pity for it as the story became clear. Wyrdwyn had encountered Sandy at one of her traps, a would-be science experiment that had escaped. It now appeared with Sandy’s body, but in the memory of its pain, her face was a hollowed-out skull filled with a black emptiness.

  “Bring Sandy back. Sandy?”

  “Yes?” it said, appearing with the solid form of the fiagai once more.

  “Do you have a leader? Are you a member of a larger organization?”

  “No. I started the group. The rest are all gone, including Fraternitatis Frumentarii Ferrumcrucian. We are, sadly, alone.”

  Murderers. Committers of genocide. Committers of deicide. So much blood, so many dreams, violently forced out of existence.

  Jett grabbed a knife from the magnetic strip on the wall and took two steps forward.

  No, this is not my foe, no matter how alike they seem. She lowered the knife and stepped backward. The metal clacked against the counter as she set it down, and Wyrdwyn-Sandy just stood there as if not fully aware of its surroundings.

  “How many members have been recruited to your organization?” Jett asked, forcing a calm, and continuing the interrogation.

  “One. One. One. And myself.”

  “Four?”

  “One. One. One. And myself.”

  “It can only count to one,” Ivy rasped.

  “I can see that. So four. Not as organized as I’d feared. Perfectly manageable. And what have you been up to lately?”

  “Trapping!” She sounded excited. “I have a redcap, and we are trying to make a glamour generator out of him.”

  “What’s a glamour generator?” Jett pressed. She glanced at the knife. Wyrdwyn’s performance was almost too believable.

  “Toradh goes in, glamour comes out. It will be brilliant. We’ll be able to cast spells whenever we need.”

  “How horrible,” Ivy rasped.

  “No, wonderful!” Wyrdwyn-Sandy exclaimed.

  “What else?” Jett asked.

  “We are about to recruit a man with faesight to help us find them.”

  Ivy nodded. “We have knowledge of this one. What is his name?”

  “Name, name, name…” the doppelgänger answered, confused.

  Ivy opened her mouth, and closed it when Jett shook her head. “What else are you working on?” Jett probed.

  “There is a boy, an ugly troll. We’ve been watching him.”

  Ezra. They were after her boy. “Stop there. Tell me more about the troll.”

  “He lives on a cult compound at–” The figure started to flicker again. “…at…”

  “In the woods?”

  It sighed. “Yes. In the woods. He’s under constant watch. As soon as we can, we’re going to abduct him.”

  Barbaric. For all the positives of modern progress, this woman wished to begin the worst parts of the Middle Ages anew.

  “Sandy, if the fae wanted to come into your house and destroy you, how would they do so?”

  “They can’t. We are untouchable. There are wards, iron, traps, defenses – everywhere. Each opening is hexed, each window and door. Nothing fae can–” Its voice cut off in a sudden sob and there was a rapid series of blinking.

  “What is it, Wyrdwyn?”

  “I want– Sandy wants– to go home. But we cannot.” For a while, it turned to shadow and there was silence. Then it said, “Nothing fae can enter– can enter– can enter– unless forced.”

  Jett pitied it briefly, before asking Wyrdwyn to bring back Sandy. Then she pressed. “What are the names of your accomplices?”

  The flickering continued. “I– know what they– appear as–”

  “Names are like locations?”

  “I know my own name.”

  “Some help she is,” Ivy muttered.

  “Nonsense. Sandy, ignore her. Do you know anything about us here?”

  “I know of her,” it said, pointing to Ivy. “Not who she is or where she lives. We’re growing in knowledge and power. It won’t be long before we find you.”

  Suddenly Wyrdwyn-Sandy looked at Ivy as if just now seeing her. “Find… you!” It raised its arm and pointed a finger at Ivy.

  “Wyrdwyn!” Jett shouted. The fetch ignored her and advanced with a screech.

  Ivy dodged to the left, leaving the mimic gripping the edge of the counter. It saw the knife.

  “Wyrdwyn!” Jett shouted again. Ivy was faeborn, flesh and blood, as vulnerable to a blade as any human.

  Its fingers wrapped around the handle, the lust of hatred burning in its unblinking eyes. Jett filled her voice with all the power of command she could muster. “Wyrdwyn, remember who you are!”

  The image of Sandy flickered away and the knife fell against the counter, flipped, and landed on the floor.

  “I’m sorry, milady!” it sobbed, falling to its knees. “She has your protection. She is your duine chlainne. How could I forget that? Oh how I hate what I have become.”

  “You cannot be condemned for acting according to your nature. You are forgiven. Thank you for warning me of this peril. Now go.”

  “I go before her. I walk before her. I walk behind her. I go where she goes.”

  The fetch didn’t quite walk, more like hovered, out the front door as it repeated those words without end. Jett let herself relax. Ivy picked up the knife and replaced it next to its culinary brothers along the wall.

  “A shame,” Jett said. “Wyrdwyn is trapped in that form until Sandy dies.”

  “Perhaps Wyrdwyn wishes Sandy to die a little sooner than fate would have taken her. We need only let nature take its course to rid us of this danger.”

  Jett replied by quoting nature’s law: “‘There is no guide for the thistle down, let acorn fall where it may.’ So it is spoken, right? No, Ivy. Not when it comes to fiagai. The hunters come and go, and when they come, we must fight them with every breath. This is where I exempt myself from the morality of nature.

  “For Ezra, I have done all I can. I have offered my hospitality, and it is for him to ch
oose. He is an acorn I will not try to move. The man with faesight, whoever he is, is not yet a hunter, and I will not try to guide that thistle down.

  “But gods help those other four. I will not stand by and watch my people die. Never again, Ivy. Never again.”

  CHAPTER 26

  *

  “THERE’S ONE!” Trey said, pointing past the fountain. “Under that tree.”

  “Where?” Jina squinted and tried to make it out in the growing twilight.

  They sat close to one another on the concrete lip that surrounded the International Fountain at the Seattle Center. The Space Needle rose up behind the open plaza, along with the lower buildings of the Sea Center. Classical guitar music piped out from the loudspeakers competed with a busker playing pan pipes.

  Below them, in a paved basin, a sparkling metal dome shot erratic spurts of water high into the air from one of hundreds of spouts. A few people braved the still-chilly May to run through the cascades of water. Had there been a festival, the area would be packed with the drenched and their onlookers. On this random Tuesday, only a few people milled about.

  All the better to go faerie-watching. And it wasn’t spriggans and sprights she was hoping to spot.

  “Which tree?” Jina clarified.

  “The shorter one. It’s about the size of a squirrel, clinging to the trunk.”

  “I don’t even know how you can see it from this far away.” Jina put her hand over her eyes to block out the glare from what light was left in the sky.

  “No, wait,” he said. “It actually is a squirrel. Sometimes I can’t tell the difference.”

  Jina turned and looked at him, then burst out laughing. Trey laughed, too. She leaned in and kissed him.

  She’d told him all about Jett, and he seemed reluctant, though it hadn’t caused any drama. It wasn’t the first time he’d dated someone in a polyamorous relationship.

  “We only managed to see one faerie tonight,” Jina said. “The way you talked, I figured they’d be as common as that squirrel.”

  “Not quite. I’m glad you got to see it. One of the pretty ones, too.”

  “I wanted to see the one that’s been following me. I’ve been calling him ‘Scarf’.”

  Trey’s forehead creased with worry. “You mentioned him at the meeting. Has he been back?”

  “Yes. I kicked his ass last time I saw him. It felt good, to scare him off like that.” Jina had been keeping watch for him all evening as they toured the EMP music museum and walked around the Seattle Center. Even now she checked the shadows between the buildings that surrounded them. If she got her hands on him, she’d be ready this time.

  “Scare? I thought you were supposed to hunt them. “

  Jina chuckled. “I did try to catch him. It’s not easy, you know. At least I could defend myself.” She jumped a little at the cry of a seagull circling above.

  “I did a little research,” she continued. “He sings this weird little song about the days of the week. I think that makes him a korrigan, if any of the fairytales are true.”

  Trey gave her a blank look, and she shrugged. “There are specific ways to deal with korrigans. Boxwood, for instance.”

  “Boxwood, you mean that shrub that people plant around their yards?”

  “Yeah, it’s a hedge. I think people like it because it’s evergreen, but it stinks. I never notice it until I smell it. It’s pretty much everywhere. The stories say korrigans don’t like it. I don’t like it either, so I can relate. Anyway, Jett saw him at my concert. Apparently he was talking smack about me, and she assumed him to be a crazed fan. She threatened to call the police… as if that would be enough to keep him away.” Jina snickered cynically, looking at her hands. “She has no idea what he really is or why he’s really following me. I’m happy to let her believe that, for now. As long as he doesn’t touch her.”

  “Will you tell her about everything? It seems like you want to.”

  Jina looked up at him. “I do. I really do. I will tell her, as soon as it feels right. I don’t want her to think I’m crazy.” It felt good to be so honest with Trey, for him to know her secrets. She wanted to feel the same way with Jett. How could Jett believe any of it?

  “So what are you planning to do about Scarf? What does he want from you?”

  “He wants to feed off of me, off of my music. Beyond that? Who knows? I can protect myself now. I have this…” Jina touched the chain. “And I have a rooting spell, and a tracing spell, if I can ever manage to cast them. And a little something in here.” She patted her boot. “Sandy’s too busy chasing some troll, so I’m on my own.” Her voice held more bitterness than she expected.

  Trey put his hand on her shoulder. “Not entirely on your own, at least not tonight. If we see him, I’ll punch his lights out.”

  Jina laughed. He sounded like a little kid. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered. Just a little abracadabra, and I’ll drag him back home on my own.”

  “You’re kind of a nut, you know that?” Trey asked, softly jabbing her in the arm.

  Jina giggled and then shivered. “It’s getting cold.”

  “My apartment isn’t too far from here. It’s not much, but it’s warmer than out here in the dark.” There was a hint of hesitation in his voice.

  “I guess we’re not going to spot any more faeries tonight anyway,” she said. “Not unless you have night-vision.”

  “Only when wearing goggles. Come on.”

  He stood and she took his hand and they headed west towards his apartment building a few blocks away in Queen Anne. Trey seemed to want to say something. He touched the necklace around his neck that disappeared under his shirt, and Jina realized it was the same she’d always seen him wear. The necklace she’d given him had been on a cord, not a chain.

  She started to ask him what he was thinking, when Trey stopped cold. He squeezed her hand and started walking again, but looked at the ground and said in a low voice, “Did you say his scarf was grey and red?”

  Jina’s eyes widened. “Yes,” she whispered, glancing around without moving her head.

  “He’s standing in a window across the street.”

  Jina dared turn her head upward. There were a lot of windows on the three-story brick apartment complex, but it wasn’t hard to spot him, framed in light, the wispy curtains stirring around him. When he caught her looking, he vanished, as if falling through a hole in the floor.

  “He’s gone,” she said. “But he’ll be back. Either ahead or behind us.”

  “Let’s dive into this bar,” he said. “Wait him out.”

  “No,” Jina said. “We keep walking. I’ve been waiting for this.” She pulled out her amulet and gripped it as tightly as she gripped Trey’s hand.

  “Have you seen his faecast? Jina, he’s scary.”

  “Scarier than that troll you saw?”

  “Way scarier. It’s not how ugly they are, or how many horns or fangs they have, although he’s ugly enough. It’s… something else. There’s a sort of shadow across his face. But it has nothing to do with color, or light. It’s as though he means to take a great deal away from you, and give you nothing of value in return.”

  “Just keep an eye out for him. I’ll be the one taking something from him tonight.”

  Jina quickened her pace, though she was not in any hurry to get to Trey’s apartment. She swept her eyes left and right, and behind. She spotted him on ground-level, still across the street, this time in an urban park made of wood planks and concrete instead of soil and grass.

  He sat reading a newspaper at a round metal table under a young tree. Behind him, the concrete walls were bathed in multicolored light that made the graffiti glow.

  Jina allowed the colors to inspire her, to build the creative charge that would make her rooting spell more powerful. She stepped out into the street, nearly forgetting to look out for cars, and completely forgetting she was dragging Trey along by the arm.

  She plunged right into the fray. All this popping in and out he di
d – it had to use glamour, and she would bend it to her will. In fact, she realized suddenly, he was a creature of glamour. If she tried hard enough, she would bend him to her will no matter what.

  Korrigan hear me,

  Hear me true,

  You’re fixed in place,

  Held like glue.

  Scarf genuinely looked surprised. He tried to move his feet, but he couldn’t even shuffle them. He dropped his paper and attempted to push himself up out of his seat, but it was as Jina said. Like glue.

  Jina dropped Trey’s hand and crossed her arms in triumph. This was how you caught a faerie.

  “I was hoping I’d run into you today,” Jina said.

  “Forgive me if I don’t stand up,” he grumbled, motioning to his legs. “Though I don’t care much for manners. My name is Pogswoth.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t introduce myself right back,” Jina said. “But I suppose you know my name.”

  “I know everything one can learn about a local celebrity. And a little more. But who is this delightful companion you’ve brought me? A dreamer as well perhaps?”

  “Shut up, Pogswoth.” Jina whipped out her phone. She dialed Hollis.

  “Hey, this is Jina. I caught a faeborn. Get your big white van over to Queen Anne right now.” She rattled off the cross streets. Hollis didn’t complain once about not having warning. He promised to hurry.

  Pogswoth had spent the entire time looking her up and down and chuckling. “I wonder if your man here knows you’ve been slinking around with fair Jett, frigging her in the rafters above a sex shop. Two broads putting on a show on Broadway.”

  Jina took a quick intake of breath. He had seen them together. He even knew Jett’s name. She felt invaded, violated, slimy, desecrated in a way she’d not felt since middle school.

  She reached into her boot and pulled out the knife, not caring about witnesses.

  This time, she had him trapped. He could no longer victimize her – what he knew and what he’d seen no longer mattered. Hollis would be here soon, and this korrigan would be off the streets for good.

  “You had sex with Jett in public?” Trey asked. Jina couldn’t tell from his tone how he was taking it. She’d clean up that mess later. She gave a slight nod.