by Eric Asher
“Your point?” Foster said, impatience showing plainly on his face.
“I do not know the Green Men around Kansas City anymore. Perhaps one of them can tell you more about the imposter Demon Sword.”
Foster splayed his fingers out across his silver chest plate. “I am the Demon Sword.”
The Green Man stared at Foster’s armor for a time before nodding.
“The imposter is dead,” Foster said, pointing again at the charred corpse on the nearby earth.
The Green Man stared at that circle of death for a time before he said, “That is not the armor of the imposter. The imposter is said to wear the brilliant silver of—”
“I think that’s enough of that,” a voice said as a sword exploded through the Green Man’s face. I caught a glimpse of silver armor before the Green Man burst into a hellish, swirling fireball. The Green Man’s scream grated against my ears, drilling his horror into my mind before thunder sounded, the shattering of a tree trunk as if impacted by a cannonball. The Green Man’s flesh charred and popped and exploded, sending tiny splinters to ricochet off Foster’s armor as the fairy backpedaled.
I raised a shield and watched the edges of the fire, waiting for something to circle around. Waiting for something to attack us. I was half blind from the inferno, and it would be almost impossible to see anything until it faded. But the attack didn’t come from around the flames. It came from within it.
Had Foster not been between me and that fireball, and the white-hot sword lancing out, I might have had issues.
Foster roared as he deflected the newcomer’s blade. In one smooth motion, he sent the sword skittering along his own cuirass before ramming the hilt of his sword into the face of the other fairy. The attacker stumbled backward, surprise lit across his now-bloody face.
Zola fired off two bolts of flame as Aideen dove from above, her sword angled to remove the attacker’s head.
The fairy threw himself to the ground, avoiding the bolts of fire and the sword meant for his neck. He sprang back to his feet an instant later.
I drew the pepperbox and leveled it at Foster’s back. “Foster, left.”
The fairy didn’t hesitate. He threw himself to the side. As soon as my line of sight cleared, I fired. The round clipped the attacker’s shoulder, but his armor was powerful enough to deflect the bullet. That showed us in an instant that it was no ordinary armor.
The fairy had barely recoiled, as if someone had merely punched him in the shoulder instead of shot him. He grinned at me. “I think that’s enough of that.”
He shot into the air, bringing his sword up in a backward arc. The motion opened a red wound in reality and the fairy vanished through it.
Foster and Aideen stared up into the sky.
“Did you see it?” Foster asked.
Aideen nodded. “He wears the armor of the Mad King.”
“Who was that?” Zola asked.
Foster took a deep breath, and his nostrils flared. “Drake.”
“Drake died in the Wandering War,” Aideen said, her brow creasing.
Foster’s eyes trailed down from the evening sky and focused on Aideen. “It wouldn’t be the first thing Nudd lied to us about.”
“You gave me a name,” Zola said, “but that doesn’t answer my question.”
Foster wiped off his sword and nodded. The metal rang against the scabbard until the hilt slammed home. “Drake was an owl knight.”
“How did he call that magic if he’s not a Demon Sword?” I asked. Foster had never been overly forthcoming about his abilities as a Demon Sword. I could understand why. The abilities of the Fae court were some of the most closely guarded secrets in their world.
“Drake is said to be descended from dragons,” Aideen said. “It’s an old story, from an older time.”
“Descended from dragons?” Zola said, a hint of amusement in her voice. “I suspect Jasper would have an opinion on that.”
“Drake was fireborn,” Foster said. He glanced from Zola to me and squeezed the hilt of his sword. “You know most Fae cannot use line arts the way a mage can. Our powers are more organic, tied to our natures, and some would say our souls.”
“You have the power to heal,” I said. “I would think that says very good things for your soul.”
“And yet we can die from it,” Aideen said. “Destroyed by the very thing you think to be so pure.”
A memory flashed through my mind. That terrible moment in the Burning Lands when I had failed, failed by accomplishing our goals, springing a trap that Nudd had set in motion. I remembered Cara’s screams, and the last time I’d ever seen her.
“I know,” I said. “And I wish she was here now.”
“So, is Drake Nudd’s assassin?” Zola asked. “It would seem unwise to attack us as a group. Ah would expect more from one of Nudd’s elites.”
“It could’ve been a show,” Aideen said. “It’s clear the Green Man knew something, and Drake needed to silence him.”
“Drake opened a portal,” I said. “Does that tell you anything?”
Aideen nodded. “He’s descended from the court to some degree. No one can simply step into the Warded Ways without a fixed entrance, unless the court’s blood runs in their veins.”
“If I have learned one thing,” Zola said, “it is this: when dealing with the Fae, we cannot assume the answer is one or the other. He may have come here for us. He may have come here for the Green Man. Or he may simply have come here for the soldiers they killed. I suspect the answer lies with all three.”
Foster nodded and blew out a sharp breath. “You’re right. Killing the soldiers and making it look like me breeds hostility, or at least distrust, between us and the military.”
“And because we live inside Damian’s shop,” Aideen said, “the military is far more likely to distrust him. I don’t like to ponder what the situation would be if it was not for Frank’s relationship with Park. I only hope it’s enough.”
“We need to find them,” I said. “Park needs to know what happened here.”
Something slithered through the grass behind me. My heart hammered in my chest. I raised a shield as I turned to face the sound.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Well now,” a sultry voice said. “Why the long faces? And why are you drawing a soulsword on me?”
I let the blade fade, hardly remembering drawing it in the moments before. As my eyes adjusted to the evening light, I could make out Alexandra’s features and her long black hair.
“Christ,” I muttered. “You about gave us all a heart attack.” I glanced behind me, and noticed that no one else seemed to be having a heart attack at all.
“He’s jumpy,” Zola said.
“And I think I have a right to be,” I said. “Have we already forgotten the fairy knight that tried to kill us, and the dark-touched vampire, and the Green Man?”
“What?” Alexandra asked. “Nixie wasn’t exaggerating. What’s happening?”
“The usual,” Foster said. “Someone that should be dead, isn’t.”
“No,” Zola said, “I doubt very much that anything she said was an exaggeration.”
“Come back to Death’s Door with us,” I said. “We need to find Frank and Park.”
Alexandra opted to take the river back to the store. Foster and Aideen went with her, leaving Zola and me to take a short walk back to the car. We were silent most of the way, walking into the bloody sunset as it scorched the sky.
“How late is it?” Zola asked.
I checked my phone. “Eight o’clock.”
“I’m too old to eat this late.”
“Oh man, why do you have to say that?” I said. We climbed back into my car and headed back to the shop. And, I suspected, dinner.
Sam’s black SUV was parked outside Death’s Door, and I hoped that meant Frank was back too. Although we hadn’t been gone that long, it might have been long enough for him and Park to do whatever they were planning to do.
* * *
&nb
sp; “Not dead yet?” the snide little face said from the lower deadbolt at the back of the shop.
“Why haven’t we just killed him yet?” Foster asked. “It’s not like Mom’s still around to torture him. We should just put him out of his misery. And ours.”
Foster glided to the ground and stood before the twisted face. He drew his sword, and the deadbolt laughed.
“Foster,” Aideen said, “stop.”
Foster glanced back over his shoulder, eyeing Aideen. “What is it?”
“He has never taunted us like that. Not once.”
“Actually, that seems to be all he’s ever done,” I said. “But I guess I’m special.”
Foster’s gaze snapped back to the deadbolt. “What have you done?” Foster pulled his sword back, ready to strike.
The deadbolt laughed again. “You think to threaten me with that thing? You think to threaten me with death? When I have been trapped here so many years?”
Foster smiled, and there was nothing friendly in the expression. He lunged forward, his sword piercing the outer edge of the deadbolt’s face.
The eyes in the dark bronze widened, and Foster released his grip on his sword, leaving it embedded in the metal.
“I can’t hear you,” Foster said. “I can see you trying to scream. Can you feel my blade inside your head? Can you feel the power inside that thing? Does the legacy of the Sanatio not run through your veins?”
The deadbolt shook, and fluid leaked from the edges of its eyes.
“Foster,” Aideen said, placing a hand on her husband’s shoulder.
Foster pulled the sword from the deadbolt and slid it gently into its scabbard.
Sound exploded from the bronze face, a shrill cry that had me covering my ears to stop the piercing wail.
“Silence yourself,” Foster said. “Or I will cut you from that door, and let the humans have you. Imagine what they could do with their iron and steel if a mere fairy blade can do that.”
I crouched down and crossed my arms, resting my elbows on my knees. “What do you know?”
“Do what you will. My fate is sealed regardless.”
“Your fate may be sealed,” Zola said, “but the amount of pain you endure meeting that fate is not.”
We stayed there for a time, at a stalemate with the Fae trapped inside the deadbolt.
“He knows something,” Aideen said. “That he’s not willing to tell us likely means it involves someone who’d hurt him far worse than us.”
“I thought you knew us better than that,” Foster said, baring his teeth at the deadbolt.
The face winced.
“It could’ve spoken to the humans,” Aideen said. “A hapless commoner, maybe?”
Still no response.
“Let’s go in,” I said. “See if Frank’s back. It’s not like we don’t know where to find this guy.”
Foster frowned for a time and then nodded. When he stepped to the side, I pulled back and kicked the face right in the nose with a steel-toed boot. The deadbolt popped open.
We filed through the door and slammed it closed. The deadbolt grumbled on the other side.
A stampede sounded above us, and two barks, as deep as hell itself, filled the air.
“Upstairs,” Sam shouted. “Bubbles!”
Bubbles tried to stop on the stairs when Sam called her name, but inertia can be a real bitch. I frowned at the mountain of green bristly fur that had just lost its traction.
“Shit,” I muttered. Foster flashed into his full-size form, grabbing Zola and leaping over the railing, sparing her from the imminent collision.
Bubbles made about one half a rotation before she collided with me. It wasn’t unlike getting hit by a car. More fur, a little less blood. But it still hurt like hell when my tailbone bounced off the hardwood at the bottom of the stairs. Thankfully, my stomach had provided a soft landing spot for Bubbles, and she was just fine. She licked my face with great enthusiasm, and then rocketed back up the stairs to Sam, who was now choking back laughter.
“Ouch.”
“Well,” Sam said, “Alexandra is already upstairs. She said you were attacked.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but they did less damage than the cu sith.”
“Thanks, Foster,” Zola said. “I much preferred to observe that from a distance.”
I grunted and climbed up to my knees, wincing at the pain in my shoulder. My back. My left knee. My right ankle. “Ouch.”
“I can heal that, Damian,” Aideen said.
“That would be great. Let me go flop into a nice soft chair.” I glanced up at Sam. “Is Frank back?”
Sam shook her head.
“Have you heard from him?” I asked, starting up the stairs. Slowly.
“He’s on his way. We’re supposed to go out for a late dinner.”
My stomach rumbled at the mere mention of dinner.
“I thought the corpses you placed in the river would have deterred attacks more thoroughly,” Alexandra said as I crested the stairs.
“You’d think,” I said.
I was still hobbling my way down the hall when Foster glided past me. He swooped down on the coffee table, raising a hand to Sam in greeting as she settled into one of the overstuffed chairs. I glanced over my shoulder to find Zola moving a lot more gracefully than I was. Aideen was hanging onto one of her braids, but I couldn’t make out their conversation.
The bookshelves upstairs were full enough they didn’t give me much room to hold on. I stumbled a bit as my ankle tried to give out, and I began to regret not taking Aideen up on her offer to heal me downstairs.
Zola raised an eyebrow in judgment as Aideen climbed one of the bookshelves beside me.
“Oh, Damian,” Aideen said. She didn’t give me any notice, simply said, “Socius Sanation.”
I winced as the tendons and muscles in my ankle knit back together. It wasn’t until the healing hit my back that I really understood how much damage Bubbles had done. Something cracked and shifted, and my vision went white for a moment before the pain faded.
“Thanks.” I took a few deep breaths and still clung to the bookshelves. The fairies had healed me enough over the years that I knew trying to walk immediately would just result in a quick face plant.
“Try not to be so stubborn,” Aideen said.
Sam flashed me a grin.
“Shut up.” I made my way to the nearest overstuffed chair and settled in with a sigh as Aideen landed beside Foster.
Something crinkled. Like stiff plastic or foil. I glanced around the group and my eyes settled on Alexandra. Her hand vanished into a Ziploc bag, pulling out a huge strip of beef jerky.
“Food,” I said, drawing the word out.
Sam sighed and raised an eyebrow. “Are you not going to survive?”
Alexandra looked down at the bag of beef jerky in her lap. She smiled and leaned forward to hand it to me. “We don’t have anything quite this spicy in Faerie.”
“Not unless it’s being used for torture,” Foster said. “I wonder what would happen if we fed that to the deadbolt.”
I took the bag from Alexandra and winced at the fiery aroma. “I didn’t realize this was Frank’s death jerky.”
“Lord,” Sam muttered. She scooped another bag up off the floor and tossed it to me. “Less spicy.”
I handed the face-melting bag to Zola, who seemed very happy to accept it. She was reaching for her second piece when Bubbles’s tongue shot out and stole it. The cu sith chewed, and then froze. Her head cocked to the side, and she tried her damnedest to spit out the fiery piece of jerky.
Bubbles vanished and thundered down the stairs. I suspected she was heading for her water bowl.
“That’s something I’ve never seen before,” Alexandra said.
I popped a piece of the bland jerky into my mouth. It was a great teriyaki recipe, a fantastic blend of salty and sweet.
“I could get you a piece of old cardboard instead,” Zola said.
“Just because something won�
��t burn your face off,” I said, “doesn’t mean it isn’t fantastic.”
Alexandra smiled and took a few pieces of inferno jerky from Zola when she offered.
“What’s been happening?” I asked Alexandra. “Nixie said she couldn’t come here herself, and that you and Euphemia were both tied up.”
Alexandra nodded. “Things have gotten worse in the far east of Falias. It isn’t only the queen’s attacks in Europe we must be vigilant for. She’s been striking the military patrols along the coastal waters.”
“Not surprising,” Aideen said. “You told us yourself some of the queen’s soldiers don’t wish to set foot in Saint Charles.”
“Of course not,” Alexandra said. “You’ve lined the rivers with the corpses of their sisters.”
Sam’s fingers froze over her phone. “Well, that sounded creepy.” She resumed texting a moment later, her fingernails beating out a rapid staccato.
“Regardless,” Foster said, “we’re glad you’re here.”
Alexandra nodded. “And I’m happy to come and see you all, but why have you summoned me here? It seems you have everything well in hand, do you not?”
“One of the soldiers bled green poison,” Foster said, dropping any pretext from the conversation.
Alexandra froze. “What?”
“Any idea who could’ve done it?” Sam managed to relay the question without making an accusation. I could say something as simple as “hi” and it sounded accusatory. Sam had much better people skills with some things, but at least I didn’t eat them.
The water witch shook her head. “The flower only grows in Faerie, its roots bound in Magrasnetto ore. The last I heard spoken of it, there were none left alive.”
“There are already weapons out there,” Aideen said. “They don’t lose their power so easily.”
“It will be lost, eventually,” Alexandra said, “but it takes millennia for it to be worked out of the blade. In a mortal’s eyes, the poison would never leave.”
“I don’t believe there can be much doubt who brought those weapons here,” Aideen said.
“No,” Alexandra said. “Even so, the military here has no understanding of the subtleties of the queen of the water witches.”