by E. A. Copen
Mara shifted her weight away from him.
I leaned down to pick up Leo. The kid was heavy for such a little guy but, somehow, I managed to get him comfortable in my arms, rocking him back and forth as I paced.
Chanter settled back into his seat. “Fae politics,” he said. “What do you know of it?”
“I know there are over a hundred different sub-types of fae,” I answered. “It’s only natural to assume they don’t all get along.
“A disagreement in Faerie is not like one here. There’s a difference. You see, all over the world, the old people spoke of elves and sprites and gnomes…Small folk. The lesser fae. But not all are members of the court. You and I may quarrel, but that is different than if, say, Pakistan had a disagreement with India about who should be in charge of both countries.”
“Sounds complicated,” Mara said.
Chanter turned his head to her and nodded. “Very. The ruling bodies are split in two, one being the Seelie and the other being the Unseelie.”
“Light and dark fae. I read about this.” Mara nodded.
“That’s an over-simplification,” I said. “Just like saying there are Democrats and Republicans, and those are your only choices.”
“Then what’s the difference?”
“The difference is,” Chanter answered in my place, “the school of magick they prescribe to. The Seelie Court governs protective magick, healing, that type of thing. If you’re looking for the dark arts, look no further than the Unseelie. They are masters of battle magick, necromancy, curses. Now, magick in itself is neither good nor evil. Even necromancy can be used for good, but the cost of such magick is often blood, will, or some other thing humans tend to hold dear.”
Mara frowned. “If you’re a werewolf, how do you know so much about Faerie?”
Chanter smiled back at her. “I asked a lot of questions growing up, much like you. And I have met one or two in my time.”
“Right, but what’s all this got to do with the giant?”
After a long beat of silence, Chanter answered, “Do you know what the word Ragnarok means?”
“It’s like the Viking end of the world,” Mara said.
“That is a naïve understanding of the word,” Chanter said, closing his eyes. “It is the death of the gods, the battle to end all battles. The world will be set aflame and then drowned. Everything will die. The Eldjotnar, or giants, play a pivotal role at the end of things for the Norse. Those would be, in layman’s terms, fire giants.”
“Fire giants?” I said. “There are freaking fire giants? And they’re real?”
Chanter nodded. “You are playing a dangerous game with the kin of things the Norsemen foretold would end the world.”
“I still don’t see a connection,” Mara said, leaning back.
“The giants aren’t beholden to a side,” came the dry, cracked voice of the elf behind us. I jumped at the sound of Creven’s voice and turned. He was awake but hadn’t made any move to sit up. “Neither Seelie nor Unseelie,” he continued. “They can be drafted to serve either.”
Rising out of my chair, I handed Leo off to Mara and went to Creven’s side. “Do you know something about that thing?”
Creven nodded weakly. “Legends and stories. My kind don’t speak much of the Old Ones. They come from a time before.”
“Before what?” Mara asked, eyes wide.
“Before us.” Creven swallowed. I grabbed a bottle of water from a package tucked in the corner of the garage, undid the cap and helped Creven get a drink. “Thanks for that, love.”
“Creven, I need to know everything you know about this giant.”
He took in a deep breath and winced. I checked his bandages. They were holding, though some blood had soaked through.
“Magick,” the elf managed after the pain subsided. “They live behind an unbreakable barrier of it. My people tell stories about the foolish men who tried to climb the mountain range where the giants live. All were struck down only to rise again, forced into servitude, protecting the mountains. They’re slaves to the cold giants, an army of undead, unsleeping hungry slaves whose only purpose is to protect their masters’ treasures.
“They say the giants walk the mountains, using the peaks as stepping stones. In the high mist, they look down with spite, remembering a time when all of Faerie was theirs, and wait for the day it will fall from the hands of the Seelie to be reclaimed. When the giants argue, they shout so loud their breaths blow the clouds down out of the mountains. The thunder is the boom of their voices, the lightning their flash of temper. And when the rains flood the lowlands, my people say it is the tears of the giantesses.” Creven swallowed and stifled a cough, grimacing.
“Can they be killed?” Mara asked. “Like, with iron?”
Creven shook his head back and forth. “The only story I know speaks of a magick blade, forged by master dwarves in the fires at the center of the earth and doused in the blood of a dragon. According to the stories, the blade is more evil than your giants, though. It kills all who wield it.”
“But that’s a myth,” Mara said in a shaky voice. “Dragons aren’t real.”
“Aye,” said Creven gravely. “Dragons are real enough, love. The sword is probably fiction. But it can be killed. When we come here from Faerie, we have to abide by the laws and rules of your world. Anything that stops the signal from the brain to the heart should work. The test is getting close enough to do it.”
I sat down on an overturned crate, resting my elbows on my knees. “What’s it doing here? Could someone have summoned it?”
Creven tilted his head and raised one shoulder as if in a shrug. “Opening a portal to Faerie is no small task, even for us fae. And no human has yet accomplished it, or so I’ve heard. But you’d have to do that, and you’d have to find one of the giants who felt compelled to help. I can’t imagine one taking an interest in a human. They’re barely interested in most fae, as far as I can tell. I thought they were a myth until one tried to smash me to bits.”
“But say someone could do all that. The creature would be bound to its word?”
“Aye,” said Creven, nodding. “Once we give our word, it can’t be broken except by death. If this giant does owe a debt to a human somewhere, he isn’t going to stop until his debt is paid.”
“The only way to stop it is going to be to kill it, and I’m not sure I can get close enough to do it. Dammit.” I raked my hands through my hair, trying to think.
Chanter held out his arms, and Mara passed Leo to him. Leo stirred a little, then snuggled into his grandfather’s shirt. “I will call some people and see if I can’t find some information about ice giants.”
I swallowed. “And if it comes back before we have something that works?”
Chanter nodded. “Then the easiest thing for you to do to prevent more death is to give it what it wants.”
I stood up. “I’m not just going to let it kill Kim.”
“Sometimes, those are the decisions we must make,” said Chanter, patting Leo gently. “Killing one to save many.”
Creven tried to sit up, but I pushed him back down. “You’re not healed yet, Creven.”
“I’m not going to lie here helpless while you two sit and talk about killing my mistress.” He fought against me, throwing my hands off. It took some effort but he finally managed to raise himself into a sitting position, leaned against the wall behind him. “I gave her my oath of protection, and I’ll see it through. I can’t stand aside.”
“Nobody’s killing anybody,” I snapped. “And you, quit moving around before you tear your stitches.”
“It’s a nice sentiment, girl, but the bodies are piling up around you.” I turned back to Chanter, who had locked gazes with Creven as he spoke to me. “Before the end of this, you may have to make a decision you won’t like, a hard decision.”
Mara looked down at her phone again and then jumped up. “Shit!”
“What’s wrong?” Chanter asked, adjusting Leo.
“Nothing. Just… It’s getting late, and I’ve got an anatomy paper due tomorrow. I haven’t even started it yet.” She looked up, searching my face. “Judah, I’ve really got to go. Can you tell Ed… Tell him for me, will you?” She offered me a sheepish smile.
Chanter looked up. “Do you need a lift? I know where Valentino keeps the keys.”
“No,” she offered, flashing a smile. “It’s only a couple of blocks. I can walk it. It’ll give me a chance to clear my head.” Mara waved her goodbyes and then rushed to the end of the driveway, turning to go up the block and walk the mile or so to her apartment on the edge of town.
Once she was gone, Chanter said, “She’s come a long way since you took her under your wing, Judah.”
“Yeah,” I said, allowing a little pride to beam through. “Guess she has. You know, I was thinking of trying to get her an internship at the precinct next semester. She’s got real talent. I think she can go places.”
Another howl echoed through the air, and Chanter raised his chin before standing. He offered Leo to me. “The boy needs a change,” he said. “And you look like hell, Judah Black. Why don’t you take him in out of the cool air and get a little shut-eye? I’ll stay here with the elf.”
I glanced back at Creven. “You sure? Seems like he’s going to be a tough customer, and Nina wouldn’t like it if I left you alone with him, Chanter.”
“I don’t need a nursemaid,” Chanter growled and pointed back toward the house. “Go. I can handle one unruly elf.”
“Promise I’ll be on me best behavior,” said Creven, and he drew a finger across his chest. “Cross me heart. I owe you that much for saving me.”
As tired as I was, I wasn’t about to get into a shouting match with Chanter or Creven. I tucked Leo into my arms and carried him inside. After a quick change, I put him down in his crib, turned on the mobile, and settled into the armchair Valentino and Nina had moved into there. Once, Leo had shared his room with his Uncle Elias and the cot had taken up the whole room. Now, they’d rearranged and the room felt even more cramped. There’s nothing more soothing than the sleep sounds of a toddler, though, and I soon found myself dozing off.
My dreams were dark, angry, and full of disembodied voices. Long, strange shadows called out to me in my sleep, grasping at my hands and feet as I ran through darkness. I thrashed, trying to free myself but, when the shadows let me go, I fell into a hungry, black abyss.
I hit the floor in the nursery, scrambling against the strap of a diaper bag, gripping it as if to strangle it. I let it go and tried to push myself up on the hardwood floor, but my palms were too sweaty and I slipped, falling flat on my face. All the air went out of my lungs as I went down, knocking my chin against the floor. At least there was nowhere further down to go but the floor. I lay there for a minute, trying to process the dream, the air thick, cool, and silent except for the sleep coos of Leo Garcia in the crib above.
Eventually, I hauled myself up off the floor to check on him, leveraging my weight on the chair. As soon as I reached out to touch his face, he woke up and started crying. I picked him up, but it was clear he didn’t want me, as he started screaming for his mom.
Once Leo launched into a series of blood-curdling screams and wolfish howls, I heard the tell-tale sound of the front door slamming and the thunk-thunk of Chanter’s cane against the floor. He came in and paused when he saw me. “What’s the matter with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” When I didn’t answer, he held out his hands. “Here. Give him to me.” I handed Leo to Chanter, and as if he were magic, Leo immediately calmed.
While he bounced the kid up and down, I sank back into the rocking chair. “I had the strangest dream,” I said, holding my head in my hands. “I was surrounded by darkness, choking on it.”
“Calm yourself, Judah. There is nothing in a dream that can hurt you.”
“That’s just the thing,” I said, wiping my hands over my face. “Even though I knew that, I couldn’t get myself to wake up.”
Chanter pursed his lips.
“It’s just a dream,” I said, shaking the cobwebs from my head.
“It is never just a dream. Dreams are the mind’s way of making sense of things, working out problems as we sleep. Sleep is the one time all the barriers come down for the human mind, allowing it to think creatively.”
“What problem does that solve?”
Chanter shrugged.
I touched my palms to my forehead, wiping away some sweat. Dammit, I’m too rusty for something this big.
I sighed. “After that, I’m not going back to sleep.”
“Well, then,” said Chanter, putting a sleeping Leo back in his crib. “We’d best find something to do, you and I. How are you at poker?”
I groaned and pulled myself out of the chair. “I’ll go put the coffee on,” I offered and went out into the kitchen in search of caffeine and playing cards.
Chapter Seventeen
We played cards until dawn. As the first rays of sunlight hit the kitchen floor, Ed burst through the door, half-dressed and looking green, his hair all disheveled. He bolted for the bathroom, where he threw up loudly. Half a beat later, Valentino came into the kitchen in his sweatpants, holding two rabbits by the ears. He tossed the rabbits into the sink with a loud thud and muttered, “Damn pussy.”
“Valentino,” Chanter said in a warning tone.
“What? He was playing with a cat, Chanter. A fucking cat.”
I tried to contain myself. “You didn’t…hurt it, did you?”
Valentino turned around, a look of utter disgust on his face. “I’m a werewolf, gringa, not a fucking monster. No, I just scared it off and made it clear I expected him to contribute.” He held up the smaller of the two rabbits and beamed. “Ed got this one.”
He was still holding the rabbit up when Daphne stormed in. She toppled two chairs coming across the kitchen after Valentino to growl in his face. He shoved her away. She continued growling and backing toward the bathroom. The two didn’t exchange any words, but the meaning was clear enough. She didn’t approve of how hard Valentino had pushed her brother. Ed had grown a spine over the last few months, but he was still as meek and gentle as ever. Killing game didn’t come naturally to him like it did to Valentino.
Chanter sighed and collected the cards from the table. “Valentino, people are not made of clay. They can’t be molded to fit whatever vision you have of who they should be.”
Valentino didn’t respond. Instead, he turned around, took up a knife, and got busy skinning their kill. My stomach was already turning from my dream earlier and the copious amount of coffee I’d had to drink to stay awake. The sounds of rabbit skinning didn’t help. I stood, collected myself, and went outside to check on Creven.
Overnight, Chanter and I took turns changing bandages, adding fluids, and checking vitals. He’d been more or less steady, and, once we got him back to sleep, he showed no signs of waking. At least he was getting some color back. There were no signs of the black veins, either.
I opened up the shed and found Creven sitting up in bed. He waved at me and offered, “Top o’ the mornin’. What’s a fella got to do around here to get a cup of tea?”
“Tea?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you think you should stick to clear fluids and a steady, easy diet?”
He shrugged and then immediately hissed with pain. “I missed tea time yesterday. Why not?”
“I’ll see what Sal says when he gets here,” I said, coming over to check his stitches. “He’s in charge.”
“Sal? Is that the big, pretty one with the long hair?”
“That’s him. Lie back down.”
I pushed him, and he went without much of a fight. The wound was still holding pretty good and looked like it was healing well. I was surprised most of the redness around the wound had faded to a light pink. When all was said and done, he’d have some nice new scars, but then, when we’d stripped him the first time, we found scars aplenty already.
“How are y
ou feeling?” I asked.
“You mean, am I ready to do that again?” He grinned. “Jaysus, I hope not.”
“You held your own pretty well.”
“This isn’t my first rodeo, as you Americans say.”
I pulled one of the lawn chairs into the shed and sat down next to Creven. “So, what kind of magick do you do specifically? And how’d you come to work for Kim Kelley in the first place?”
He frowned at me and put his skinny arms behind his head. “Tea. Then interrogation. It’s only polite.”
I looked him over. Even if he wasn’t healed yet, I didn’t see what damage a little tea would do. If Sal didn’t want him to have anything to drink, he should have said so.
“Fine,” I said, standing. “But after the tea, you’ll tell me everything I want to know. I know you know more about this case than you’re letting on.”
Creven drew his lips into a straight line. “Depends on how much you know, of course. I might not know anything useful, after all.”
“What do you know about the missing fae at Aisling?” I watched his face for any signs of recognition and found none. His expression went blank. Damn. And I thought Chanter had a good poker face.
“I take my tea with a drop of honey and heavy on the milk. Make sure it’s real milk, too. None of that soy shite you Americans like.”
My eyes twitched as I walked out of the shed. Whether that was because I hadn’t slept more than an hour or because the elf was on the verge of driving me crazy, I couldn’t tell.
As soon as I got to the porch, an old engine groaned and Chanter’s truck, which Sal had borrowed the night before, complained loudly as Sal pulled it into the driveway. All thoughts I had about tea vanished, and I rushed to the passenger side of the truck as fast as my feet would carry me. Hunter was curled up there, an old flannel shirt thrown over him like a blanket.
“How did it go?” I asked Sal as he got out of the truck, shirtless and shoeless. He came and put an arm around me, leading me a little way away from the truck to talk. “What happened?” I asked, a little panic creeping into my voice.