Tooth and Nail

by Chris Underwood

  I rocked forward, pushing myself away from the bank. Turning, I looked up toward the bank and the tree looming above me.

  An idea struck me. It took all my remaining dexterity to unhook my truncheon from my belt. It was slippery with mud and river water, but I managed to wedge it into the elbow of my tense right arm. Slowly, I started to unscrew the pommel.

  It was a slow, agonizing process that cost me time I didn’t have. Finally, the pommel came loose, revealing a sharpened wooden point concealed in the base of the truncheon.

  The stake was there to defend myself against vampires—either greater vampires like Lockhart and her brood or the more feral breeds of lesser vampire that occasionally stalked the outskirts of Lost Falls. Now, though, I wasn’t using it as a weapon. I needed a tool.

  I dropped the pommel into my pocket. Grasping the truncheon in my left hand, I turned back to the tree roots that dangled down the bank. This time, instead of just grabbing them with my good hand, I hooked my contracted right arm around one of the thickest roots, relying on the tension in my muscles to hold it tight. Then, with my left hand, I plunged the point of my truncheon into the steep riverbank.

  The first few inches were nothing but mud. But then I felt the truncheon bite into more solid earth. I tested my weight on it. It held.

  Bracing myself against the pain I knew was coming, I began to climb.

  The pain was worse than I expected. Worse than anything I’d felt so far. Every time I pulled the truncheon out and stuck it in the dirt a little higher, it felt like my arm was being wrenched out of its socket. Every time I slipped I was filled with despair, knowing I’d have to pay for those few inches with even more pain. My contracted right arm burned as I slid it slowly up the dangling root, clamping down and releasing.

  But I climbed. Inch by inch, step by step. Until, finally, I clambered up onto the flat, grassy plain at the top of the bank.

  I rolled onto my back, gasping for what little breath I could get. Spots danced in my vision. I didn’t have time to rest and gather my strength. With a groan, I dragged myself to the spot at the base of the tree where I’d hidden my bag.

  It was still there. Either the dark-haired man hadn’t known it was there, or he’d decided to make his retreat without doing anything about it. I dragged the bag out from among the roots and started to rummage.

  I could no longer draw enough breath. It felt like a vice was closing around my chest, crushing my lungs. My right eye was becoming unfocused, and darkness was pressing in around the edges of my vision.

  I had to be quick. I could feel my own death approaching. It was wrapping me in a crushing hug, just like the poison’s name promised. I didn’t have the time or ingredients to brew a full antidote to the poison, but if I was quick, I could still prepare a counter-spell that would blunt the poison’s effects and buy me some time.

  I tipped vials and bottles out of my bag, standing them up in the dirt next to me. Clumsily, I scribbled out a written charm with my left hand on a strip of lambskin parchment. I stuffed it into an empty vial and then spent several valuable seconds trying to pry the cork out of another bottle. My left hand was growing even more unusable.

  Finally, I got the cork out, spilling half the bottle’s contents in the process. Didn’t matter. I shakily poured the thick, syrupy liquid into the vial containing the charm, then tossed the bottle aside and reached for a packet containing some ground sheep teeth.

  That was when I tried to draw another breath and found I couldn’t.

  The panic set in immediately. I stopped what I was doing and strained to inhale. Nothing.

  The counter-spell. It was my only chance. With a violently trembling hand, I ripped open the packet of ground teeth. The white powder spilled everywhere. As darkness closed in around me, I emptied what was left of the packet into the vial. Bubbles hissed on the surface of the liquid and its consistency began to change.

  I stuffed a cork into the vial and shook it as hard as I could. I couldn’t rush it. If I drank the potion before the reaction was complete, the counter-spell wouldn’t be powerful enough to blunt the poison’s effects.

  My lungs burned. My head grew foggy. The desperate need for air filled my thoughts.

  With darkening eyes I stared at the vial in my hand, watching it bubble. Come on. Come on.

  My vision narrowed until it felt like I was staring down a cardboard tube. The vial grew suddenly warm in my hand.

  And then, finally, the bubbling ceased. I fumbled for the cork.

  The vial slipped from my grasp.

  I heard it make a soft squelch as it fell into the mud next to me. I couldn’t tell if the cork had come loose or not. I could no longer make out anything at all. My vision was all but gone now. With what strength I could muster, I stretched out with my left hand, feeling around me for the vial.

  My knuckles brushed against something glass, causing it to roll further away from me. I cursed internally and stretched further, trying to find it again.

  The movement caused me to lose my balance. I fell onto my side, my legs curling up to my chest. My hand continued to quest, reaching through grass and dirt and finding nothing.

  Feeling slipped away from me. The only thing I could hear anymore was the sick thumping of my own heart. Death’s hands took me by the shoulders and rolled me over. Though I couldn’t see it, I thought I was looking at the sky again.

  “Well,” came Lilian’s voice from a long way away. “You tried, at least.”

  18

  I woke slowly. Painfully. Every muscle in my body ached. Even my eyebrows felt like they’d had the workout of their life.

  I was too tired to open my eyes, but I sensed a presence next to me. I wasn’t alone.

  “Lilian?” I croaked.

  I heard a chair creak. “He’s talking in his sleep again. No. I’ll call you back.”

  It took me a moment to recognize the voice. “Nolan?”

  Summoning my strength, I opened my eyes. The world slowly came into focus.

  I was in a room. No, a trailer home. I could see sunlight shining through thin curtains opposite the narrow bed I was lying on. Bundles of drying herbs were tied to the ceiling by strings. On a little shelf where a TV would normally sit, a few dozen dusty bottles were crammed.

  Nolan was sitting on a small fold-out chair beside the window. The swain was looking a little better than the last time I’d seen him. I guess that steak had done him good.

  He slipped his phone into his pocket and offered me a tight smile. “Sleep well?”

  “Like a baby,” I groaned.

  I was having trouble accepting that I was alive. I didn’t know how much time had passed, but the feeling of slow suffocation was burned into my memory.

  I raised a tired arm and dragged my hand over my eyes, trying to remember what had happened in those last few moments before I blacked out.

  “I must have found the potion,” I muttered to myself. “I drank it in time.”

  “I’m afraid that I’m going to have to take some of the credit for that,” Nolan said.

  I took my hand off my eyes and glanced at him. “You found me out there?”

  He nodded. “Mistress Atwood gave me leave to come find you. I tried to call your phone, but there was no response, so I decided to look around. I found you by the tree. You looked like…have you ever seen pictures of those Inca ice mummies?”

  “Please don’t bring mummies into this. We’ve got enough monsters to deal with already.”

  “I found a bottle in the grass next to you. You were reaching for it. When I couldn’t rouse you, I decided there was nothing to lose by giving it to you. What was it?”

  “A counter-spell. Good thinking.”

  “To counter what? What happened?”

  “I was…attacked.” Grunting, I sat up and looked down at myself. I was still a mess. Dried mud stained my damp clothes and there was dirt all around my fingernails. I opened and closed my hands a few times, ignoring the ache.

  St
ill, I wasn’t feeling too bad. Better than expected, really. I should’ve still been suffering the effects of the Lover’s Embrace—the counter spell should have only blunted its effects, not cured me entirely.

  I took another look at my surroundings. “Where are we?”

  As I spoke, I felt the trailer shift slightly as someone stepped through the open door.

  “My house.”

  My heart skipped a beat when I first glanced at the wrinkled, desiccated man that had appeared in the trailer. Maybe it was all that talk of mummies.

  After a moment, though, I recognized the man, with his squinting eyes and his bald dome flanked by two tufts of brilliant white hair. It was the potion seller, Whitworth.

  “Don’t thank me too fast,” the old man grumbled. “You might pull something.”

  “You?” I asked. “You made the antidote?”

  “No need to sound so surprised,” he snapped. “It doesn’t take much cunning to recognize Lover’s Embrace.”

  He stomped into the trailer, turned his back to me, and snapped open the shopping bag he was carrying. He started pulling out handfuls of herb leaves, which he began to bundle and attach to the strings that dangled from the ceiling.

  I bit back the first remark that came to mind. “Thank you,” I said instead.

  He made a noise that was half snort and half grunt. He kept his back to me, which was a little awkward considering we were all crammed into a space not much larger than a matchbox.

  “Got anything to drink?” I asked Nolan. “Maybe something with alcohol in it?”

  “Just water, I’m afraid,” he said, handing me a bottle.

  “Water will do.”

  I gulped down most of the bottle, then handed it back to him with a sigh.

  “That’s better. Thanks.” I met his eye. “Really. Thanks.”

  “It’s nothing,” Nolan said.

  “How long was I out?”

  “A few hours.” He checked his watch. “It’s a little after two.”

  “I missed lunch. Damn.” I glanced at the scoliotic back of the potion seller, then turned to Nolan. “Hey, can I talk to you outside for a moment?”

  “No need,” Whitworth said. “I can’t sit around here all day. I’ve got places to be.” He turned and scowled at the two of us. “I’ll know if you steal anything.”

  I held up my hands. “I’ll restrain myself.”

  He frowned like he didn’t believe me, but he said nothing more. With one last glare, the potion seller turned away, shoved some bottles into his bag, then stomped out the door. A few seconds later I heard a vehicle starting and pulling away.

  “Friendly, isn’t he?” I said to Nolan.

  “He certainly has a way with people.”

  “Why do the vampires keep him in their pocket?”

  “Mistress Lockhart finds his skills useful.” He paused. “And he provides a useful link to certain parts of the community.”

  “He’s your spy, you mean. He keeps an eye on the seedier parts of town for you.”

  “Something like that,” Nolan said.

  I swung my legs out of the narrow bed and set my feet down. The floor was disconcertingly sticky beneath my bare feet.

  “Are you sure you should be getting up?” Nolan said. “Maybe you should rest.”

  “I will. Tonight. But I’ve still got a few hours of daylight left, and I intend to use them.” I wiggled my toes. “Besides, our friend’s antidote seems to be surprisingly effective.”

  Taking a breath, I pushed myself to my feet. My muscles groaned and my joints popped. But I didn’t fall down. I took that as a victory.

  Nolan stood as well, hands raised as if he was going to try to catch me if I stumbled. I didn’t think he’d be able to take my weight, but it was a nice thought.

  I went to the window, pushed the curtain aside a few inches, and peered outside. I was greeted by the sight of trailer homes and buildings that were little more than shacks cluttering either side of the narrow street that ran down the center of Doyle’s Reach. A network of power lines hung overhead, stretching out to every home. A few of the Reach’s residents were out and about, hanging up laundry or sitting around drinking.

  I scanned the rooftops and trash heaps for any sign of watchful eyes or vengeful assassins, but I saw nothing. Directly outside the potion seller’s trailer was a small garden overflowing with herbs and exotic flowers, all barely contained by a low wire fence. In the grass alongside, I could see the torn up ground where a pair of tire tracks disappeared out of sight behind the trailer.

  I turned away from the window and found my bag sitting on the floor next to me, the dirty truncheon sitting on top. I picked up the truncheon and started screwing the pommel back on to hide the wooden stake it concealed. Nolan’s eyes were drawn to the weapon as well.

  “Nolan,” I said. “Who did you tell I was coming back to Doyle’s Reach?”

  His gaze darted from the truncheon to my face. He shrank a little at whatever he saw in my eyes.

  “You told Atwood, didn’t you?” I said. “She would expect to be kept appraised of anything going on, even when she’s sleeping the day away. Right?”

  He nodded.

  “Who else?” I pressed.

  “Mistress Lockhart also requested I keep her up to date,” he said softly. “She was receiving a report from one of Master Booker’s swains when I told her.”

  “Hell.” I dragged a hand across my face. “I guess that means half the vampires in Lost Falls knew I was here.”

  “I don’t think so. Master Booker is known to be reticent with sharing information, even with his allies. And my mistress is very discreet.”

  I turned things over in my head a few times. It was possible that the dark-haired assassin had learned of the vodyanoy’s existence through some other means. Perhaps it had been a coincidence that I happened to be there when the assassin arrived to silence the vodyanoy.

  But I didn’t buy that. The timing was too close. Someone had found out what I’d learned with the Dealer’s help. And they’d sent the assassin to make sure the vodyanoy couldn’t give me the full story.

  Was it Lockhart? Was her grief at Eventide’s death just an act? I hadn’t thought so, but I knew she was a good liar. If she wanted to silence witnesses, though, why allow me to get involved in the first place? Just to give the investigation an air of legitimacy?

  What about Atwood or Booker? Both stood to gain if Lockhart lost her grip on the brood—and if this investigation failed, that was a real risk for the vampire queen.

  My gut pointed to Booker. I’d only spent a short time in his presence, but that had been enough to give me a measure of the vampire. He was ruthless enough and hungry enough to pull something like this. With Eventide dead, he now held the title for toughest bastard in the brood. He was already gagging for a war with the ogres—if the investigation was sabotaged, that was exactly what he’d get. The chaos would undermine any confidence the brood had in Lockhart. And if Booker led the brood to victory against the ogres, he would emerge a triumphant war hero, the perfect individual to take over control of the brood.

  Of course, that assumed the vampires really could defeat the ogres—which wasn’t a fight I’d like to put money on. Booker thought he could win, though, which was all that really mattered.

  Still, would even a Grade-A asshole like Booker arrange for the death of a fellow vampire? If I’d pieced things together correctly, I had to assume that the same assassin that’d gone after the vodyanoy had also been involved in Selene Eventide’s death. I had no doubt that someone like Booker would take advantage of the situation after it had occurred, but would he be willing to murder his own kind in the first place?

  I was so lost in my thoughts it took me a few seconds to realize Nolan was talking to me. I blinked and looked up at him.

  “Sorry, what did you say?”

  “I was asking if you found anything useful,” Nolan said. “Did you find your witness?”

  “Kind of.
Although I think I’m going to have to find him again. Preferably before anyone else does.”

  “What did he say?”

  I opened my mouth, then closed it again. “I think…Nolan, I appreciate what you did for me. I’d be dead if you hadn’t found me. That’s a debt I can’t repay. But I think I’m going to have to play this one a little close to the chest.”

  He frowned. “You don’t trust me.”

  “I don’t know who to trust. But something weird is going on here, Nolan. That much I know. This wasn’t just some tussle between Eventide and One-tusk. There are others involved. People pulling strings. People who don’t want the truth to come out. I can’t put the investigation at risk.”

  He hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I understand.”

  I slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t look so glum. I’m sure your mistress will find other ways to run you ragged. Look at you, you look as bad as me.” I smiled. “Besides, I still need your help with that whole dark magic thing.”

  He nodded. “Mistress Eventide’s remains will be ready this evening.”

  “Good.” I turned on my phone and found I had a couple of messages from Early. I was sure he’d be excited to hear about my near-death experience. “I don’t know about you, but I think I’ll just leave our potion seller friend a thank you note and get the hell out of here. I don’t want to be here when he gets back. He might decide to invite us to dinner.”

  “Agreed. My mistress was expecting me back shortly anyway.”

  “Can you get yourself back to Lost Falls okay? I have some things I need to sort out.”

  “Of course.”

  I looked around the potion seller’s trailer, then fished my wallet out of my bag and started to thumb through its meager contents. “You think he’ll accept a coupon for a free gas station sandwich as payment for the antidote he made me?”

  “No need to worry. We have already covered the cost.”