“Please fight. Please stay. I don’t want to end up living out my life in that old, awful silence where I’ve been,” he whispered as he broke every rule of medical training and lifted Zee’s body and held it close. “Come back, Zee. I love you. If you love me, too, then Death has no power here.”
In his arms, Nick felt Zee shudder and then gasp for breath. Slowly, she began to warm. Half afraid, he looked down and was relieved to see color flushing her cheeks. Her eyelids began to flutter.
Mother Nyx appeared suddenly at the feasting table beside Zee. She turned in her chair and reached out with her dark cobwebbed arms, stilling Zee’s hands, which were plucking out bloody arrows. Her touch was not cold, though Zee had thought it would be.
Zee looked into the crone’s beautiful black gaze, so filled with comfort and compassion that she almost surrendered to her death. But then she heard Nick’s voice, calling her home.
“Nick?” she whispered, turning away from the death goddess.
After a moment, Mother Nyx dropped her hands, freeing Zee and letting her decide what her soul wanted to do.
“Yes, I’m here. I love you, Zee,” Nick said again when he heard her faint whisper. He could feel himself grow stronger with the repetition of those words. He said a third time: “I love you.”
“And I love you.” Zee’s eyes slowly cleared and she smiled. It was a weak effort, as faint as her voice, but Nick felt it for the blessing and miracle that it was. Zee had died, but because they loved, she lived again. He, too, was being offered a chance at new life. He would snatch it up and not worry about the future.
“It’s okay now, Nick,” Zayn said, putting a hand on Nick’s shoulder and kneeling beside him. The healer was breathing hard. “You brought her back. You rescued her soul. Now let me help you to see to her body so we can get out of here.”
Chapter Eight
The moon had scarcely gone when Nyssa gave birth in a goblin lair, and Abrial Nightdemon first beheld his child: She was a lovely girl with her father’s night-black hair and her mother’s kind eyes.
Nyssa wept as she held her daughter, partly in happiness and partly because her father—horrible as he had been—had not had the chance to see his grandchild born. “Not that he would have cared,” she added sadly.
A still-weak Zee reached out a hand to both Nyssa and Bysshe, and she said softly, “He cared. Don’t ever forget that he died saving us when he could have gotten away.”
Nyssa shook her head. “The queen’s heart was wrecked. He was dying. We were just an afterthought.”
“No.” Zee shook her head; she knew better. “He would have lived long enough to steal someone else’s heart if he abandoned us. He chose to make his stand because he wanted us—and our children—to live.”
Nyssa thought for a moment and then nodded. She held her daughter close and sighed into the child’s dark hair.
A moment later Io and Cyra were there, exclaiming and fussing. It took only a moment for Nyssa and Zee to be lifted and carried toward home. Jack, Lyris and Roman were still missing, but they had gone with Farrar to take the children to the nearest human town.
“What the hell is that?” Nick asked, staring at the small wheeled vehicle rolling toward them as they neared the gate to the shian. It carried some sort of a camera whose lens was splashed with mud. He held Zee supported in his arms, though after drinking Zayn’s draught she had insisted that she could walk.
“A robot,” Abrial answered, stepping in front of Nick and lashing out at it with his foot. A few kicks reduced the mini-jeep to twisted metal. It was an impressive act of violence: the demon didn’t even disturb his sleeping wife, who was cradled in his arms. “The university set dozens of them loose down here back in two thousand two after the Las Vegas flood took out the Yucca Mountain nuclear storage facility. They figured it wasn’t safe to send humans, so they have these drones mapping the tunnels for them. They have robotic fish, too. They haven’t found the shian yet. Thomas has some scrambler in place and he sends out kill-bots of his own. And the goblins have managed to keep them out of their territories, too. So far. But it’s probably only a matter of time before we have a breach.” Abrial sighed.
The sound was an odd one, coming from him. Like his next words: “It never gets any easier.”
Late morning almost a week later, the dragon squatted down on all fours as a puppy might, hindquarters in the air but with his nasty tail tucked out of sight. He gave a wiggle and then pretended to pounce. Gretel and Thomas’s daughter Meriel squealed and darted away. The dragon faked a swipe that missed them by several inches and then mock growled when the children got away. Nick knew it was a mock growl because he’d heard the real thing; it wasn’t a sound that one forgot.
He was still far from easy about allowing the kids to play with the dragon, but no one else seemed alarmed at their games, so Nick held his peace, content to play with Zee’s hair as she napped in his lap, one hand trailing in a pool of blue healing water, the other tucked in the stone imp’s fur. Zee’s ribs had healed and she was gaining strength fast, but she was still napping several hours a day.
As soon as she was well enough, they were getting married. Nick couldn’t wait for the day.
“So, you are leaving us for a while?” Thomas asked. “Jack managed to fix your Jag, I hear.”
“Yeah, we’re going for a while on a sort of . . . honeymoon. Chloe and Zayn have offered to keep the kids—if I get them more dog cookies,” Nick answered. He smiled wryly. “Actually, the real reason is that I don’t want to end up on one of those missing-without-a-trace programs. I’ve got affairs to see to. But we’ll be back before the baby is born—long before. I am taking no chances. We’re going along with the idea that Qasim’s prediction is true and we’ll need his heart.”
“It’s a bit scary to think about,” Thomas agreed. “Have you figured out what to tell your family?” He watched the dragon waddle by, chasing his small daughter, but didn’t turn a hair when the beast snapped its massive jaws together in an audible crunch.
“Not really,” Nick answered. “I’ll have to think up a good lie. Except for my sister. I need to tell her some version of the truth, since this . . . this heritage, affects her as well as me. And—I have to admit this—I’d like her to think about moving farther away from my dad’s family. I’ve been doing some research, and it seems that they actually were elf-killers many years ago. Even if she doesn’t manifest any overt fey signs, I think she’d be happier with some distance between them.”
Thomas nodded. He gave no indication of whether he thought Nick’s confiding in his sister was a wise thing to do.
“There is also the matter of my job. I’m in a fairly small town. I have to find a replacement before I leave, or lives could be lost.” Nick sighed. “And I have a few close friends. They’re humans, though, and the most no-nonsense people you’ll ever meet. . . . Damn. I don’t know what to do about them either. Of course, I’ll introduce Zee and the kids later on, but after that? I can’t see us getting together for Fourth of July picnics, you know?”
Thomas nodded sympathetically. “That’s tough. Most of us here have gone through it, though. Some of us manage to keep our outside contacts, but eventually most of us find it easier to withdraw.”
“I still don’t know what I’m going to say. One thing’s for sure, they’d never believe all this.” Nick gestured at the gardens and the dragon. “If I told them even half the truth, they’d be calling for a straitjacket and feeding me anti-psychotics.”
“Humans do love their pills. Listen, it sounds a bit Pollyanna-ish, but these things usually work out. I have become a believer in serendipity.”
Thomas turned to watch his wife. Cyra was wading in the pool, her selkie skin cradled in her arms. The pelt had finally begun to wake up and grow. Nick wasn’t in a place of complete faith yet, but he was beginning to believe that there was a similar sort of benevolent providence looking over him and his new family.
He looked down at Zee an
d smoothed back the golden hair that fell like a veil over her face, and he felt a stab of pure, sweet emotion, right through his awakened heart. There were some things that a man did only once—like falling deeply in love. He was born one time, and he died one time . . .
Unless he’s a coward. Then I think the quoted number is one thousand, Nick’s ghost’s voice said.
I wondered where you’d been! I have a bone to pick with you. I’ve been doing some research, and the Ghost of Christmas Future was supposed to be the silent one. Didn’t you ever read the story?
Oops, guess I got that part wrong. The ghost laughed.
Nick squinted down at the pale face forming in the healing pool. He hadn’t seen it for some time, and he found himself smiling at the reflection.
Sorry to interrupt your beautiful thoughts, but I’m leaving you now and wanted to say good-bye.
What? Why?
You’re on the right path. I need to be getting on to what comes next.
The right path. How can you say that? Nick asked. I’m as confused as ever about what to do, and I could use some advice. Are you certain you have to leave this instant?
Yes, I’m sure. You have Zee now—and many other fine friends to guide you. You don’t need me. The ghost smiled, but already he was looking more tired and pale. Come on, Nick. You don’t really think I’d stop nagging if I didn’t know you were doing the right thing, do you?
That gave Nick pause.
So you think it’s wise to give up our outside life when the baby is born? That we can be happy here?
Oh, yes. Only give things up when you have to, but don’t turn away from the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Not for anything. And especially not because you’re upset and confused at having lots of happiness, love and friendship thrust upon you, the ghost said slyly.
Put that way, Nick’s continued worry and resistance did seem rather stupid.
What will happen to you now? he asked the watery figure. The ghost’s smile widened, and for a moment his image grew stronger.
Don’t you get it? We’re both going to live happily ever after.
Really?
Really. Good-bye, Nick. You take care of us. Our future is in your hands.
But . . . Well, good-bye. Be well.
Merry we meet, merry we part, merry we meet again. The ghost saluted, and his shadowy image gradually faded away, leaving Nick feeling slightly bereft but also hopeful.
“What was that?” Thomas asked, leaning over the water.
“What? Did you see something?” Nick asked, curious and startled. Could someone else have seen his ghost?
“I—I don’t know. I guess it might have been your reflection,” Thomas said. He shook his head and snorted. “Of course that’s what I saw. Sorry, Nick. The last couple of days have left me a bit jumpy.”
“I think we’re all that way,” Nick answered.
But everything was basically back to normal—or as normal as things ever were anymore. The children had all been returned, apparently without physical harm. The respectable news outlets who had any knowledge had been bribed into silence by the goblins who had—belatedly—decided that a preemptive strike against Qasim in which they murdered all the human children and hid their bodies where they would never be found might have been somewhat ill-advised. And while wild rumors were flying around the Internet about the event, and at Humans Under Ground, so far, aliens from outer space were being blamed by the conspiracy theorists. There would still likely be one or two repercussions, but there was time before the feys at Cadalach would learn what they were.
“So, do we attack Lobineau for what he did? He had to know what the corpse powder was for,” Nick added, changing the subject. A part of him marveled at how calmly he could now talk about killing goblins. He hadn’t thought of himself as a vengeful man, but almost losing Zee had changed that.
“No. He was helping Qasim, of course, and Qasim is dead. Anyway, better the devil we know. For now. And he has been punished—sudden massive withdrawals have happened in his bank accounts.” Thomas smiled a bit grimly. “The money is going to the families of those kidnapped children to pay for any counseling they might need down the road.”
Roman suddenly galloped into the garden on noisy hoofs. In horse form, he had Mathias and Hansel on his back, their small hands wrapped in his mane as they shrieked with laughter. Nick looked at the prancing pooka and felt his seriousness shaken loose by the sound of Roman’s whinnying—it sounded like laughter.
Yes, this was a good place. It was good for Zee as well. And when he stayed here, his children would grow up loved and knowing exactly who and what they were.
Epilogue
Jeffrey woke up vaguely alarmed, though his eyes told him that he was in his own bedroom and everything looked as it had the last time he’d seen it. He had a vague memory of a really scary dream where the Santa Claus at the mall was a monster who chased him. But it had just been a dream. His mother had told him that he was sick. That he had had a bad fever, and had wandered away from the mall and out into the desert. While he had been ill he had been suffering from hill-lucy-nations—bad dreams caused by his high temperature—but none of the scary things he remembered were real, and he was all better now. All the children who were sick had gotten better.
Which was great. He never wanted to have bad dreams like that again. It sucked that he had missed Christmas, though. They were going to have another Christmas on the weekend, with Grandma and Grandpa. And his mom had already gotten him a bike. There’d be extra presents then, as well as a turkey. But it wouldn’t be the same as Christmas Christmas.
Oh, well; one good thing had come from his adventure: His mother’s terrorist boyfriend, Ee-Em, had gotten tired of looking for him and, after shouting at the police, who thought maybe he had kidnapped Jeffrey, he had left in a huff. Now it was just Jeffrey and his mom again. That was the way it should be. Nobody needed stupid terrorists in their home.
Nick and Zee wandered through the farmers’ market, looking for souvenirs to take back to the kids at Cadalach and sharing a bag of kettle corn— something Zee craved regularly now that her pregnancy had advanced into its sixth month. Today was special because it was the summer solstice. It was also their last day before returning to Cadalach. Nick was taking no risks; he wanted her near Zayn and Qasim’s heart.
Nick was distracted by a medicinal herb vendor and turned away to talk shop; since working with Zayn, he had grown increasingly more interested in treating ailments through herbs. But Zee was too restless for another long lecture on plant medicine, and she continued to wander through the stalls until she reached the end of the aisle where there was a small cardboard box under a green umbrella. It said: kittens—free to a good home.
Reeeowww.
Heart beating a little too quickly, Zee approached the box. All the kittens were asleep, except a tan one with black ear-markings and huge yellow eyes that studied Zee without blinking.
It was her. Bastet! Zee was certain. She hadn’t seen the cat since Qasim’s sacrifice.
With shaking hands, Zee reached for the kitten and lifted it carefully. “Which of your nine lives are you on?” she whispered to the baby feline with ancient eyes.
Reeow, it said again.
“I’m sorry, love,” Nick said, coming up beside her. He had a small pot of Greek oregano in his right hand. “I know I get distracted at these things. There’s just so much to learn.”
Zee cuddled the kitten close in a tentative embrace, letting it rest on her slightly swollen belly. The new Bastet put her ear to Zee’s tummy and began to purr. Zee shivered at this further sign.
“I take it you want this kitten?” Nick asked with a smile. “Cats seem to do fine at Cadalach. Probably because they are uncanny creatures themselves.”
“Yes, she’s meant to be ours. The kids will love her, don’t you think?” Zee asked, stroking the cat’s velvet ears. “Maybe I’ll call her Bastet.”
“That’s a lovely name,” Nick sai
d.
And Bastet smiled.
“I found him!” Abrial announced as he walked in on Midsummer’s Eve dinner. “Kris. I found him.”
“Kris Kringle?” Thomas asked, putting down his fork and looking at Jack and then back at Abrial. “The one and only Santa Claus?”
“Where is he?” Jack asked. He sounded resigned.
“Up north—where we expected. He’s been wandering the wastelands, living with the polar bears and seals. He’s suffering from total amnesia, and I’m betting it’s either a goblin drug that did it or one of Mabigon’s nastier hexes.” Abrial’s voice held distaste for the dead Unseelie queen.
“What are we going to do?” Thomas asked. He couldn’t keep the awe from his voice. Kris Kringle was a legend, and not just in the human world. He was a death fey who’d completely renounced his magical destiny and gone to do good works among the humans. He had been—at the time of disappearance, and even after—the best ambassador of goodwill the fey had ever had. Nowadays, everyone thought he was just a legend, a charming folk story. They no longer recalled that Kris Nicholas Kringle, Santa Claus, the Saint, had been real.
“What will we do? I’ll go and get him, of course,” Jack said. “I can’t very well leave my great-uncle living with polar bears.”
“Well, damn,” Thomas said, exhaling slowly. “Have you thought about what this means—what he’ll do when he remembers?”
“Yes,” Jack answered slowly. “And it’s a bit daunting, I must admit. But our way of holding back the tide can’t work forever. We juggle well, but someday we will drop the ball and there will be war—unless we can convince the world that it no longer needs to fight. Anyway,” he added with a wink, “don’t you think it’s time we took Christmas back from the merchants and the unbelievers?”
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