Shit.
“Hardly ‘consorting,’” Nigellus replied mildly. “My expertise was requested in what is clearly an unprecedented situation. I’m here as a courtesy, nothing more.”
“A courtesy—” The Fae began in a tone of disbelief.
“Hang on a minute. You’re... the guy who blew up my job,” Len observed, a sense of bizarre detachment sliding over him. “Which leads me back to my earlier question—what the ever-loving fuck?”
“This is Teague. He is in charge of the St. Louis overkeep,” Albigard said in clipped tones. “The Wild Hunt’s incursion falls within his area of jurisdiction.”
Great. So this dickweed was part of the Fae shadow government that ran so much of the human world from behind the scenes? That might explain why he was here, but it didn’t mean Len had to like it.
“There were people inside that nightclub when the gas line exploded,” he pointed out, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Some of them died.”
“A great many more will die if we don’t focus on the problem at hand,” Nigellus said.
That was apparently too much for one of the hellhounds—or cu-sidhe, rather. It growled, the sound rumbling deep in its massive chest, and prowled forward as though it intended to go right through the cat to get to Albigard.
The cat-sidhe hissed in warning, tiny fangs bared.
Len didn’t think. He fumbled in his pocket and scooped out the pepper spray he’d picked up downtown, stepping in front of the nightmarish creature and spraying it directly in the face. It snapped at the stream and kept coming, like a dog trying to bite the water flowing from a garden hose.
With humans, you aimed for the eyes when using pepper spray. With dogs, you aimed for the nose. Len tried to cover both areas. It was hard to tell if he was succeeding—the orange dye in the spray nearly disappeared against the unnatural matte blackness of the thing’s coat.
About half a second before Len’s nerve would have broken and sent him scrambling backward for cover, the hellhound stopped prowling toward him and shook its head. It swiped at its face with a front paw... once... twice. Then it repeated the motion with the other front paw. Within moments, it was engaged in a frantic dance, trying to rub its muzzle against both its front legs at once. Reality twisted, and the hellhound took humanoid form, still swiping angrily at the orange stains.
The other hellhound followed suit a moment later, and when Len glanced around, the cat-sidhe had also changed into human shape. The pixie-like figure stared in amazement for a moment before collapsing into peals of bell-like laughter, pointing in glee at the cu-sidhe’s dye-splattered face.
Len backed up a few cautious steps until he was standing next to Albigard, which seemed a marginally better choice than standing on his own with a metaphorical target painted on his chest. All eyes in the room were bouncing back and forth between him and the grumbling cu-sidhe.
“Oh, you deserved that!” the cat-sidhe managed around giggles, slowly regaining control.
And... the hellhound-Fae seemed to be shaking off the effects of a face full of capsaicin way faster than anyone had a right to do. Len took the opportunity to examine the newcomers. They were tall and broad, yet they also bore a noticeable air of androgyny in their facial features and body shape. If the cat-sidhe was on the femme end of the non-binary spectrum, however, the cu-sidhe were on the masc end.
In addition, the pair bore an uncanny resemblance to each other with their close-cropped dark hair, green eyes, and high cheekbones. Maybe they were twins? Len wasn’t sure how that worked with the Fae, especially after the cat-sidhe had mentioned that twins were rare. Suffice to say, dressed in dark, identical clothing as they were, he would have a hell of a time telling one from the other.
Well... except for the orange dye on the left one’s face, obviously.
“If we could all calm down for a few moments and discuss things rationally?” Nigellus suggested, in a tone dry as the desert.
“Yes, please,” the cat-sidhe agreed. Sobering from their earlier merriment, they turned back to the other sidhe and flung a hand emphatically in Albigard’s direction. “As I tried to tell you before, dragging this Unseelie back to Dhuinne does nothing to solve our problem. For one thing, the Hunt has gone feral. It’s shown no interest in tracking him when there is easier prey on this side of the tear in the veil. For another, even if it did follow him back to our realm, once it devoured him there would be nothing to prevent it from returning to its new killing ground immediately afterward. We must repair the weak spot in the veil.”
The cu-sidhe on the right tilted their head in a doglike gesture and exchanged a glance with the other one. “That argument has merit, I suppose.”
Still looking as irritated as one might expect from someone that had just been sprayed in the face with pepper spray, the second cu-sidhe gave a reluctant nod. But before Len could send up a silent and vaguely ironic hallelujah, Teague—the explosives-happy asshole who’d destroyed Guthrie and Gina’s jazz club, nearly taking several of Len’s friends with it—spoke up.
“What prevents the Hunt from opening a new rip between the realms once it realizes it’s trapped again?” he asked. “It is already strengthening.”
The cat-sidhe shot Nigellus an uneasy glance before replying. “With luck, it was only able to achieve such a feat because of an existing weakness in the barrier separating the realms.”
“With... luck,” Len echoed flatly.
“Whatever the case,” Nigellus said, “the first step remains the same—sealing the existing tear with the Hunt on the other side.”
“I still fail to see how any of this involves you, demon,” Teague shot back with a sneer.
“Teague.” Albigard sounded tired beyond measure. “Enough. Have you any idea how much raw power will be required to cauterize the veil? One does not turn away the assistance of a demon of the first rank when power is required.”
“There is another consideration, as well,” Nigellus continued. He lifted a hand as though reaching for something, and a three-foot-long flaming sword materialized in his grip, throwing flickering firelight around the kitchen.
A flaming. Fucking. Sword.
Len blinked, and suddenly Teague and the cu-sidhe were snarling in warning. Teague had fallen into a defensive stance with his hands raised, glowing magic sparking and swirling around them. Red light poured from the eyes of the cu-sidhe, who looked poised to shift back into hellhound form and spring.
“Shit!” Len yelped, wondering which direction would be the best way to run.
Before all hell could break loose—and fuck, that pun wasn’t even funny right now—Nigellus made a casual flicking motion with his fingers and the sword disappeared from existence as abruptly as it had appeared. The three Fae froze in place, not following through with their attack, but not relaxing either.
A put-upon sigh emanated from the cat-sidhe’s direction. “Fools. Do you not see? A weapon that exists between dimensions and can be used to cauterize? Must I really spell this out?”
“I trust that will not be necessary,” Albigard murmured. He shot Teague a pointed look. “And did I not teach you better than this? What do you think your magic would accomplish against a demon? He is immortal.”
Teague looked vaguely sheepish for an instant before slowly lowering his hands. “I don’t recall you teaching me to stand there like a dead tree to be felled with an axe, either.”
The cu-sidhe, by contrast, were still doing the laser-beam eyes thing... though at least they no longer looked like they were preparing to lunge across the room and try to tear Nigellus’ throat out.
Footsteps approached the kitchen door. Abruptly, everyone turned to look as Rans and Zorah entered. Rans raised a slow eyebrow as he took in the scene, then he and Zorah traded a look.
“Um... hi,” Zorah said slowly. “I feel like we might’ve missed a few things while we were out.”
* * *
Half an hour later, the situation was noticeably calmer, though tension
among the various groups was still apparent. Len hung around the edges of the discussion, not feeling like he had much of substance to offer. However, it also felt wrong to bail on the meeting and hide in his borrowed bedroom while the fate of the world hung in the balance.
Zorah had been turned into a vampire recently enough that she still considered herself ‘human-adjacent,’ so to speak. While the others debated, she plopped down next to Len at the kitchen table to fill him in on a few choice tidbits he hadn’t heard about before.
“So... this guy Teague,” she began quietly. “You know he’s the sonuvabitch who arranged for The Brown Fox to be blown up, right?”
“Yeah,” Len answered, also pitched low enough to hopefully avoid drawing much attention from the others. “He came into the place a couple of times to threaten Guthrie and generally act like an asshole. Can’t say I was overjoyed to find out he’s going to be part of the cut-rate Justice League.”
She nodded. “I hear you, believe me. But here’s the part you don’t know. Turns out, before he took up a sideline in trying to blow up vampires, he was Albigard’s protégé. For, like, years and years.”
Len stared at her for a moment. “Is... that supposed to warm me up to him somehow?”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “I’m not finished. During the battle at Stonehenge, he’s the one who brought in the cavalry and turned the tide when we were getting our butts kicked. This, after Albigard met with him in secret and told him what was really going on with the children he’d been helping to kidnap.”
“Okay...” Len allowed.
“Then, after Albigard jumped in front of Vonnie’s son to save him and got whammied for his troubles, Teague was the one who snuck the three of us away before any of the other Fae realized who Albigard was and arrested him. He portaled us to St. Louis and dropped us there. That was right before we showed up on your doorstep, the week before last.”
Len digested that. “So, you’re telling me he’s got some loyalty toward Blondie? Even now?”
Zorah shrugged. “Apparently. Though it looks like that loyalty is getting stretched to the limit, what with Nigellus here, being all demon-y and shit.”
Len tried to fit the new puzzle pieces into the picture that was already forming, and failed. “Not gonna lie, Z. I don’t see how that balances out against the fact that he almost killed you by blowing up an eight-story building.”
Zorah waved the words away, though she looked troubled. “He didn’t come anywhere close to killing me. He did come within a whisker-length of killing Guthrie with that stunt... and he probably would have gotten Vonnie, too, if I hadn’t been with her when the gas main blew.”
Len gave her an incredulous look. “In other words, my point stands. In fact, I’m really struggling to see why him being here is in any way a good idea.”
Her lips twisted. “Because he’s in charge of the Fae shadow government in St. Louis, and we need to get into an area that’s probably cordoned off tighter than Fort Knox right now. Then, once we’re there, we need to perform weird supernatural shenanigans in said area without bringing the police, the military, and god knows who else down on our heads.”
Len sighed. “Right. Wonderful.”
She patted his arm. “For what it’s worth, he does seem to have some genuine affection for Albigard, even with him being a fugitive now.”
“I’m not sure having bad taste in friends combined with being a murderous pyromaniac is actually a selling point, Z.”
Zorah rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d happily do some very nasty things to him after what happened to Guthrie... and to Vonnie. But not while we need him—and we do need him. Unfortunately.”
Len cut a glance toward the copper-haired Fae, only to find Teague burning holes through them with his eyes. “You realize that he probably heard every word of that, right?”
Zorah smiled, showing fang as she swiveled to return the Fae’s glare. “Oh, yeah. You bet I do.”
FIFTEEN
ON THE OTHER side of the room, logistical planning was still in progress.
“If we are not going to use the condemned as bait to lure the Hunt back to Dhuinne, he should stay here,” one of the cu-sidhe was saying. “Otherwise, he may draw the Hunt straight to us.”
“No, no. We can’t spare his power,” the cat-sidhe argued. “Few Fae can match him in ability, and fewer still possess both life magic and elemental magic.”
“You do,” the other cu-sidhe said blandly.
“And it will take both of us to pull the two sides of the tear together so the demon-blade can weld it shut,” Albigard said.
“Additionally, Albigard will be able to draw power from Zorah,” Rans said. “And Zorah can replenish herself from my blood to keep him supplied while he works.”
“Woo-hoo,” Zorah muttered, sounding about as excited by this prospect as one might expect. “I can hardly wait.”
Teague made a face of disgust at Albigard. “You took on a bloodsucker as a magical vassal?”
“She was not yet turned when she accepted my gift,” Albigard said.
“She was still demonkin,” Teague pointed out. “A hybrid succubus abomination.”
Albigard lifted a shoulder and let it drop in a studiously careless gesture. “And now her power will serve us well... even if using it makes my stomach feel ill afterward.”
Zorah waved a hand. “Sitting right here, guys. Hello.”
They both ignored her, and Len rubbed the bridge of his nose.
The cat-sidhe looked around the room. “We are all agreed on the strategy, then?”
Albigard gave a tired nod. “I believe so. You will pull extra power from Teague, while I pull power from the vampires. Between us, we will draw the edges of the veil together for the demon to seal with his blade. If the Hunt appears before we are finished, the cu-sidhe will attempt to herd it back through the gap so we can complete our task.”
Nigellus’ bourbon-colored gaze fell on Len. “The human should accompany us as well.”
Zorah straightened abruptly. “Len? Why? It’s too dangerous... the Hunt almost killed him once already!”
“He may be useful,” was all the reply Nigellus gave.
Pinned by that ageless demonic stare, Len could only manage a dry swallow.
The cat-sidhe had been watching the exchange closely. “Hmm. When a demon of fate makes a prediction, it is wise to heed it,” they said.
Len finally managed to work up enough moisture in his mouth to speak. The idea of returning to that horrible zone of death chilled him to the core, but he’d also spent a good chunk of the last few months sitting on his ass while the people around him risked their lives fighting against evil.
“It’s fine,” he said. “I’ll come along. I can stay back, out of the way. One thing about it—if anyone gets hurt, I’ve got first aid training. Not that horrific injuries seem to slow any of you down all that much.”
“Len—” Zorah began.
“It’s fine,” he repeated in a monotone, feeling another few inches of the sandy ocean-bottom of normalcy eroding beneath his feet.
Rans’ glacier-blue gaze fell on him for a long moment, and Len got the distinct impression he was being assessed. After a few seconds, though, the vampire turned his attention back to Nigellus and the cat-sidhe.
“If that’s all settled, what is our timetable with this plan?” he asked. “It took a week after the first incursion for the Hunt to work up its courage to return to the human realm... but it seems overly optimistic to assume that will be the case next time.”
“Indeed,” Nigellus agreed. “I have other unavoidable obligations that will require me to depart temporarily, but I shall return by midmorning tomorrow, if that is acceptable.”
Teague shot the demon a narrow look. “Do these other obligations involve scurrying back to your Council to report every word of what was said here, hellspawn?”
Nigellus gave him a bland smile. “No. As it happens, they do not.”
“It’s agreed, then. We will leave at midmorning tomorrow,” the cat-sidhe said firmly. “That will also give the cu-sidhe time to travel back to Dhuinne and attempt to determine the Hunt’s current location from the other side of the veil.”
The two eerily similar sidhe exchanged a look and nodded. “We will return by tomorrow morning,” said the one Len had pepper-sprayed. An instant later, a portal opened up behind them and they stepped through, disappearing.
“Chatty pair, aren’t they?” Len observed as the fiery oval snapped shut behind them.
The cat-sidhe’s lips twitched in a quickly hidden smile. “They are more suited to action than talk, I fear. Now—I, too, must see to other matters. Rest and nourish yourselves for tomorrow’s task, younglings.”
With that, another portal appeared and the little Fae rippled into cat form before trotting through it, tail held high.
“Until tomorrow,” Nigellus said, and popped out of existence without ceremony.
Just like that, Len was alone in the echoing kitchen with Zorah, Rans, and Albigard. The Fae still had that dead man walking expression on his face—the same one he’d worn off and on since first catching a glimpse of the Hunt at the end of Len’s street and realizing it had come for him. It had intensified since Len arrived to find the cu-sidhe preparing to drag him off to his doom.
“Is this going to work?” Len asked. “Or are we going to be completely screwed?”
Albigard, predictably, ignored the question. It was Rans who answered.
“I’m not certain there’s sufficient precedent to make a prediction,” said the vampire.
“Nigellus seems to know what he’s talking about when it comes to this veil stuff,” Zorah put in with forced optimism. “The cat-sidhe, too. That’s got to be worth something.”
Albigard grunted—a noncommittal noise.
“Fair enough,” Len said. “What’s on the agenda for the rest of the day, then?”
Forsaken Fae: The Complete Series, Books 1-3 (Last Vampire World) Page 11