“I’ve no idea,” he said, placing a hand on the central symbol. “These days the Court can barely come to agreement on the simplest issues. No doubt the Unseelie wish you dead, while the Seelie may well prefer to study you first in hopes of determining how you came to be.”
I clenched my fists to hold in a shudder. “How do they execute people in Dhuinne?”
Albigard shrugged. “Beheading, generally. It is quick and relatively painless when performed skillfully.” He paused in whatever he was doing to glance down at me, his green eyes luminous in the low light. “I must say, your decision to pursue this course surprises me, demonkin.”
I tried to ignore the way my heart was pounding like a drum. “Yeah? It shouldn’t. I’m not a fool. Your people are going to catch up to me sooner or later. Probably sooner. This way, Rans won’t be standing in front of me when it happens, and I have a chance of helping my father. It’s only logical.”
“That is the part which surprises me,” Albigard said, still studying me like I was a bug who’d stood up on its hind legs and started doing calculus.
I glowered at him. “Could you maybe not insult me when I’m preparing to go to my doom?”
He flickered an eyebrow and returned his attention to the symbols. “My apologies.” A glow began to spread out from his hand where it pressed against the wall, similar to what had happened at the old hospital. “In case it isn’t clear,” he continued, “as soon as the gate opens, you will be my prisoner. I will take you to wherever your father is being kept, unless someone with more authority stops me. At some point, you will be taken away from me, but you have my word that I will attempt to leverage your capture to gain your father’s release.”
“And how much authority do you have, exactly?” I couldn’t keep the wariness from my tone.
Green eyes flashed at me. “That, unfortunately, is a very complicated question these days.”
I nodded, trying not to think about Rans’ words earlier.
There are areas in which I trust Albigard, and areas in which I don’t. Sending him to deal with the Court face-to-face on your behalf falls firmly into the latter category.
“What’s in this for you?” I asked.
“Renewed standing with the Court,” he said without hesitation. “Access to people who may be of use to me in the future.”
“And that’s worth making an enemy of Rans?”
I was stalling now, and I knew it. But I’d still feel more confident going into this if I could get a better understanding of Albigard’s motives up front.
He paused for the barest of moments. “That remains to be seen. It is… a calculated risk, given current events. We are embroiled in a dynamic situation, in which unexpected developments require immediate responses.” He shot me a final look. “You are correct, though, that the Fae would have found you in fairly short order. And, from what little I have seen, you are also correct about the vampire’s likely actions in the face of your imminent capture.”
“I just want to minimize the collateral damage as much as I can,” I said quietly. “There aren’t many people in this world I give a damn about. I don’t want those people hurt because of me. Not if I can help it.”
“There is honor in that, demonkin,” Albigard said.
The glow was spreading across the entire wall now, becoming bright enough to hurt my eyes. I blinked rapidly, trying to see through the sheen of tears that had formed across my vision. What lay on the other side of the wall was… not Earth. Panic tried to rise, tried to pull my feet away from the vision of elsewhere.
I was looking at Dhuinne, the place that had spawned these beings whose presence I could barely stand. I was giving myself over to them. Placing myself in the hands of creatures like Caspian Werther. Once I stepped into that world, it was very likely that I would never see this one again.
I stumbled back a single step before I caught myself.
Stop.
Dad’s freedom.
Rans’ safety.
Have you ever played that stupid hypothetical game where you try to decide if you would sacrifice yourself for your loved ones in a crisis? Almost everyone convinces themselves that they would be a hero during an emergency… but when the rubber hits the road, most people don’t run into the burning building. They don’t jump in front of the active shooter, or dive into the freezing water to save the drowning victim.
They save themselves instead.
There was an important difference in this case, though. It seemed highly unlikely that I would be able to save myself. Even trying to do so would mean a life on the run, always looking over my shoulder, wondering every time I faced a new person if they would scream ‘Demon!’ and pull a weapon before trying to kill me.
Rans thought he could put an iron dagger in my hand and teach me to fight the monsters, but I wasn’t at all sure I could live that life. I wasn’t sure I wanted to become that person. I did want Rans to be safe. I wanted my dad to be safe.
I stepped forward again.
Albigard’s hand closed around my upper arm, and I tried not to tremble.
“Come, Zorah Bright,” he said. “Your father is waiting in Dhuinne.”
He pulled me through the space where the wall had been. It was much worse than traveling by portal or ley line, and I nearly doubled over as my stomach tried to rebel at the strangeness of traveling between realms. Albigard hauled me upright, stumbling, and through swimming vision I saw a phalanx of guards blocking our way with swords, crossbows, and glowing balls of magic in their hands.
“State your purpose, Wing Commander,” said the guard at the front. “Why do you bring this creature into Dhuinne unannounced?”
With a jolt, I took in the features of the guards surrounding us. They weren’t human. Which seemed a ridiculous thing to realize when I’d just traveled to a different planet—but all the Fae I’d seen to this point had appeared human enough. I glanced at Albigard, unable to hold back a gasp at the sight of his face in profile.
His hair remained the intricately braided mass of spun gold it had been on Earth, but those braids now exposed faun-like ears swept to a delicate point, along with dark eyebrows that would have made Mr. Spock from Star Trek jealous. His skin seemed to glow with some inner iridescence. It made him almost hard for me to look at.
He stared down his nose at the guard who had challenged him.
“I have a second prisoner from the Chicago overkeep,” he said in a cold, haughty voice. “She is to be placed with the other one that was brought in recently. The human. Where was that one taken?”
The guard hesitated, as though Albigard had gone off-script somehow. I tried not to succumb to panic as the proximity of so many armed Fae made my instincts scream with the need to flee. Albigard only continued to stare down the guards like they were dirt on his boot.
Eventually, the guard’s resistance crumbled, and he broke eye contact with my erstwhile captor. “The human was taken to the eastern quarter, and handed over to the Recorder’s office.”
Albigard’s fingers tightened on my arm—a convulsive twitch so brief I wasn’t quite sure I’d truly felt it—but nothing came through in his voice as he issued a curt, “Very well,” and strode forward, dragging me behind him.
I held my breath as we approached the line of stony, inhuman faces, but at the last moment the phalanx of guards parted. Albigard passed through them like Moses at the parting of the Red Sea, with me still held firmly in tow.
“I will inform the Court of your arrival, Commander Albigard,” the guard threw after us, and I was sure I hadn’t imagined the sting behind those words.
But Albigard only waved the statement off carelessly with his free hand. “Yes. Do so.” The retort sounded positively bored.
TEN
I TRIED TO TAKE everything in as I was dragged away. There were buildings here—functional and laid out around the place where we’d appeared in such a way as to make me think it was a military encampment. That would certainly make sense, if this wa
s really the only way into Dhuinne from Earth. It was also clear that Rans had been right—sneaking into Dhuinne had been a total pipe dream.
It wasn’t the buildings and soldiers that held my attention, however; it was the world itself. Dhuinne was bursting with life. Or at least, this part of it was. Vines and flowers covered everything the Fae had built here. Trees arched over the buildings, grass tried to choke out the cobblestone walkways beneath our feet, huge leaves clustered at the base of every fence and lamppost. I could almost swear that when I stared at the rampant plant life for long enough, I could actually see it moving and growing.
Above me, pink and white clouds sculled across a lavender sky. Rather than a yellow cast, the light from the sun was an actinic white. And… it was way up in the sky, too. When we’d left Chicago, it had been just past sunrise.
Of course, then we’d gone to Ireland, which was several time zones ahead—
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the meaningless musing over trivia before it gave me a headache. At the edge of the town, or outpost, or whatever it was, Albigard came to a halt and called up a portal.
I didn’t dare ask where we were going or what was likely to happen once we got there—not while I was playing the cowed prisoner. Though perhaps calling what I was doing an act was something of a polite fiction at this point. I was a prisoner, and I was pretty fucking cowed right now.
Albigard hauled me through the portal and closed it behind us. The military outpost had given the impression of being a small settlement in a rural area, but now we were in an honest-to-god city. Weirdly, it was still choked with plant life in a way Earth cities weren’t—at least, not unless they’d been abandoned and left to rot for years.
Yet for all the aggressive, jungle-like fauna, there was no sense of decay. No smell of rotting leaves or mold; no buildup of dead plants piling up on the ground. Everything was just… alive.
We had arrived in what appeared to be some sort of courtyard behind an impressive structure. The building was surrounded by many other impressive structures, making me wonder if this was some sort of government district where the so-called Recorder’s office could be found. Except for the rampant wildlife, it reminded me of the older parts of St. Louis with their ornate churches and two-hundred-year-old courthouses.
There were more Fae here, bustling about in the way of people everywhere who had places to be and important things to do. Albigard marched me into the building, and I was a bit shocked that the riot of plant life even existed inside the grand old structure. Vines choked the banisters of staircases and dripped from the ceiling in sprays of flowers. Their heavy perfume filled the air.
It was beautiful… and it made me want to run away in the same way that the Fae themselves made me want to run away. But I couldn’t run away. Where would I run? For all I knew, we could be miles away from the gate where we had come in. The gate that was guarded by dozens of magic-wielding warriors who could kill me with a single blow.
I had made my decision, and now there would be no turning back.
We approached an alcove full of shelves, getting surprised and wary looks from those we passed. What I had briefly taken to be carpet under my feet turned out to be moss in a much bluer shade of green than anything I’d ever seen growing on Earth.
An immensely old Fae poked his head out from between two sets of shelves. Rather than books, they held scrolls. Albigard strode up to the elderly man, ignoring the disconcerted mutters in our wake. I tried to look meek and non-threatening while still sneaking occasional peeks at my surroundings.
Christ. Even this white-haired, stoop-shouldered old guy set off my creepy-crawliness. Did all demons react this way to all Fae? If so, no wonder they’d ended up at war. It was clear that this ancient dude was some kind of paper-pusher—no threat to anyone. It made me worry about how I’d react when the ones who really were a threat showed up. I wondered when that would be.
I didn’t want my last acts to consist of screaming and thrashing and begging for mercy, but I guess in the end, the details of my final moments didn’t matter to anyone but me. The most important part was making it to Dad before the truly bad stuff started happening. It would be Albigard who arranged for his release, if all went well—and please, god, let me not have made a mistake in trusting him on that—but I desperately wanted to see my father one last time.
I wanted to see with my own eyes that he was a prisoner and not a collaborator. I wanted to tell him that I was sorry for making him so miserable, for putting him in danger, and that I loved him. I wanted to say goodbye.
“Recorder,” Albigard was saying, “I need information on the whereabouts of a human prisoner brought into Dhuinne two days ago.”
The old man scowled, first at Albigard and then at me. “And you are…?”
Albigard waved the fingers of his free hand and a sigil crackled in the air before him. It was made of the same fiery whatever as the portals he created, but it was much smaller and shot through with a complex pattern that reminded me of the tattoos at the base of his throat.
“Oh.” The Recorder’s scowl faded, but his expression still looked sour. “You’re that one.”
“The prisoner?” Albigard prompted, sounding like he didn’t want to be having this conversation any more than Old Guy apparently did.
“An unusual case,” Old Guy said grudgingly, eyeing me with clear distaste. “He was registered as a prisoner, true—but he had previously been recorded as a cull.”
He might as well have been speaking Greek for all I was able to glean from that statement, but Albigard’s eyebrows shot up.
“Is that so?” he asked mildly, and the old man shrugged.
“He was taken to the former owner’s dwelling,” the Recorder said in a tone that made it obvious he didn’t approve.
“And the address?” Albigard pressed.
The Recorder’s rheumy eyes narrowed. “Why do you need it?”
“Because this prisoner is to be delivered to the same place.”
I held my breath. The Recorder continued to stare Albigard down for long moments, but then a canny look crossed his wrinkled face.
“As you like, Commander. I’ll retrieve it for you now. I assume you’ll be going straight there?”
Albigard merely continued to look at him, expressionless. A smile twitched on the old man’s face, and he excused himself to the stacks, returning a few moments later with a page that looked like real parchment. Albigard glanced at it, and turned away without another word to the Recorder.
“Come,” he said, tugging me after him.
I let myself be hurried along, back down the vine-choked stairwell, through the perfumed atrium dripping with blossoms, and outside.
“Did you get the address?” I asked.
“Quiet,” he said. Then, in a lower voice, “The residence is some distance from here, and the Recorder will almost certainly inform the city guard to meet us there.”
“Can’t you magic us to wherever this place is?” I muttered, ignoring his command for silence.
“I have never been there before, so—no.”
“You’d never been to the house where I was staying in Chicago, either!” I hissed.
“I used your presence there as my anchor,” he replied in a tone that made it clear I should shut up now. “Move your feet, demonkin, unless you want to find the guards waiting for us when we arrive.”
I gritted my teeth and half-jogged to keep up with his long strides. This place would have been fascinating under any other circumstances. The surroundings were just similar enough to my own world that most things were identifiable, yet everything was slightly off, like the blue-green moss carpet. Like the too-perfect glamoured appearance the Fae used on Earth.
There were people around, but it wasn’t crowded in the way downtown St. Louis or Chicago were crowded during the daylight hours. Statuesque men and lovely, elfin-featured women gave us looks that ranged from disdainful to worried as Albigard dragged me along at speed.
> Gradually, the tenor of our surroundings changed from this-is-where-people-work to this-is-where-people-live. The roads grew narrower, or at least the usable portion that hadn’t been taken over by plant life grew narrower. The buildings grew smaller, the layout of streets less regular.
Albigard glanced up at each intersection, and I noticed signs, covered in symbols I couldn’t decipher. Which, now that I thought about it, raised a rather obvious question.
“We’re almost there,” Albigard said, turning right onto an even narrower street.
“How can I understand the language here?” I blurted. “I certainly can’t read the writing.”
He shot me a dark, sidelong glance. “How many times do I have to remind you that you drank my mead? I’m translating for you, obviously. You’re welcome, by the way.”
And, okay—I wasn’t going to examine that response too closely. If Albigard was creepy-crawling around inside my head somehow, I was happier not knowing the details. Even so, I shivered involuntarily.
“Er, yeah. Thanks,” I managed.
Our pace hadn’t slackened during the exchange, and now Albigard gestured to a cute little cottage that looked pretty much like all the other cute little cottages on this stretch of road.
“Here,” he said as we turned onto the stone-lined walkway leading to the front door. “It appears the guards haven’t arrived yet.”
He knocked briskly on the weathered wood. For a long moment, nothing happened, but then I heard the click of a lock disengaging and the door creaked inward. No one was standing inside to greet us, though I thought I caught sight of something small and dark darting out of the front room. An animal, maybe?
Albigard’s brow furrowed. He gave the interior a slow look, as though searching out possible traps.
“Is this it?” I asked nervously. “Is he here?”
“Allegedly,” he said, which wasn’t nearly as reassuring a response as it might have been.
He let go of my arm, and I shook it out as the blood flow returned. I pushed past him into the house, figuring that at this point, there wasn’t much worse that could happen to me than what was already going to happen. Time wasn’t exactly on my side, so caution could go take a flying leap.
The Last Vampire: Book Two Page 9