by M. D. Massey
“And why do you think we have what you seek?”
“Because, Agnes—the information I require falls squarely within your domain of expertise.”
The hag absently tongued a perfectly white but crooked tooth as she considered my words. “Hmph. A child has gone missing, and you want Agnes’ help in finding it.”
“Not just a child—children. Stolen by vampires and handed over to the fae to serve their purposes in Underhill. An arrangement that has been in operation for decades, right under the Queen’s nose. You and I both know such activities could not remain unnoticed for long if they were not well concealed by an established network of turncoats.”
Agnes tapped a long, ocher-stained fingernail on the arm of her rocking chair. “I see. And what else do you have to offer in exchange for this information?”
“I thought I made that clear when I arrived,” I said, unleashing my magic. “Tell me what I wish to know, and I will let you live.”
“Isn’t this interesting,” Agnes said as she continued to rock slowly in her chair. “Fuamnach’s Hound, on a quest to save others from suffering his own sad fate. Does he act alone, or does someone guide his hand, I wonder?”
Dark energies swirled around me as I strolled across the room. “My motivations are my own. Your only concern should be making it out of this shack alive.”
Agnes flashed a smile that stretched from ear to ear, splitting her face in a grotesque manner that put her pearly white teeth on display. As I watched, her mouth morphed from that of an attractive young woman with excellent dental hygiene to a gaping maw filled with long, crooked black teeth that glistened in the near dark. A thin, elongated tongue darted out of her mouth, sliding across her incisors before slithering back inside.
“Do your worst, Hound,” she said with an evil twinkle in her eye.
I lashed out with two shadow tentacles, intending to immobilize her before she could move. However, my magical appendages passed directly through Agnes and her chair, leaving nothing more than a ripple in the illusion on their passing.
Realizing what a fool I’d been, I dropped into a crouch, wary of the surprise attack that I knew must be coming. Seconds later, a corner of the tin roof above was ripped away, and a hideous, blackened face as large as a trashcan lid leered down at me from above.
“Looking for me, Hound?” Black Agnes said as an arm the size of a large sapling darted into the hole she’d made. Her long, thin fingers locked around my waist in a vice-like grip as she swept me up like a child’s toy. “Come out and play, then.”
Before I could use my shadow magic to free myself, she pulled me through the hole and tossed me into the middle of the bayou. I skipped like a stone, once, twice, before breaking the water’s surface with a splash. Perhaps due to the layers of clothing I wore, I sank like a stone in the brackish lake. Thankfully, the bayou was not very deep, and soon my feet touched the soft, muddy bottom. Kicking off the bottom, I swam upward, surfacing with a gasp. I wiped the filthy water from my eyes just in time to spot Agnes stepping into the water after me.
I honestly hadn’t expected to be facing a giant, as Peg Powler wasn’t much taller than me. But Agnes easily stood fifteen feet tall, the surface of the water barely meeting her grotesquely distended belly. Although she was wading through waist-deep water, her pace did not slow in the least, and I soon realized she would be upon me before I could make it to the nearest shore.
With a thought, I sprouted six shadow appendages from my torso, three of which I used to lift me out of the water, keeping the other three in reserve should I need to use them for physical combat. I conjured missiles made from pure shadow, shaping them into spears that I hurled at the hag telekinetically. She batted most of them away like twigs, but one managed to pierce her shoulder, to little effect.
Agnes smiled as she plucked the shadow thorn from her blackened flesh. “Fight all you want, Hound—the harder you struggle, the more Agnes likes it.”
“I will choose to ignore the obvious subtext in that statement,” I said as I backpedaled away from her. “You should know, my affections already belong to another woman.”
“Too bad for her—I’m not one to share,” she hissed as she leapt out of the water toward me. She was incredibly quick for her size, closing the gap and timing her jump perfectly to coincide with my trajectory. The hag landed atop me with both feet, forcing the air from my lungs and driving me down to the muddy bottom of the lake.
17
The only thing that kept my collarbones and rib cage from being crushed when Black Agnes landed on me was the protection that my shadow magic provided. By force of habit, I kept bands of shadow magic wrapped around my body whenever I was in combat, and I had reflexively protected myself as soon as I brought my magic to bear. Despite those protections, her weight shoved me down deep into the mud at the bottom of the swamp, sending me into a momentary panic regarding my rather precarious predicament.
Calm yourself, Crowley. Observe, process, and act.
This was how I had been taught as a changeling prince in Underhill—to never lose my composure, to avoid allowing fear and other human emotions to hinder my missions, and to size up every situation with cold, calculating precision. This allowed me to achieve the advantage in ways my enemies and targets could never have anticipated.
Of course, my training never prepared me for being up to my knees in mud at the bottom of a fetid lake, with 1500 pounds of swamp hag standing on my shoulders. No matter, I had the situation in hand, as I’d experienced all manner of mortal combat during my time in Underhill.
While I preferred to avoid engaging physically with my opponents, I had been well trained for such encounters, as my adoptive mother had made sure of it. During my time in training, not only was I subjugated to tortures unimaginable—meant to give me the ability to block out all physical discomforts in order to complete whatever mission I was assigned—but I was also trained in weaponry, empty-handed fighting, and the usage of magic and close combat.
Add to that various training partners who each were deadly in their own way, and it resulted in an agent prepared for virtually any circumstance. One who could think on the fly and improvise in those rare situations that my training did not address. I had previously fought giantkind during the course of my training, and during my tenure as Mother’s Hound, albeit never before in a swamp.
Thus, I would make do.
Obviously, what Agnes expected was for me to fight to resurface, giving into my instinctual desire to alleviate the burning in my lungs as my body rapidly depleted the oxygen in my bloodstream. Instead, I anchored myself to the bottom of the lake using three of my shadow tentacles. Then I reached up with the other three, wrapping one around her throat and the other two around each of her arms, using the leverage that my anchors gave to pull her off balance and into the lake beside me.
While one tentacle continued to throttle her, cutting off her ability to breathe both air and water, I used the others to wrench her arms behind her back. Her legs were still free, however, and her toes were tipped with iron-hard talons that were just as deadly as those that tipped her fingers. Somehow I avoided being eviscerated as she kicked and struggled to free herself, slipping past that danger to stand atop her beneath the water.
Once in position, I raised myself above the waterline, casting a cantrip to dry myself completely. Then I summoned large amounts of electricity, channeling it through my shadow tentacles and electrocuting black Agnes until she stopped struggling.
After I was relatively certain she had lost consciousness, I dragged her out of the water. I secured her to the trunk of the largest cypress tree I could find, first with bands of shadow magic, and then with lengths of iron chain that I fashioned from her stove, kettle, and the fasteners that held her house together. It was simply a matter of using magnetism and telekinesis to pull her shack apart, piece by piece, in order to salvage the material. A time-consuming task, but once finished, I was able to rest and recuperate without being forced to
expend my magical reserves to keep the hag secure.
After I was relatively certain that Agnes did not pose an immediate threat, I supped on an organic power bar and slaked my thirst with water from the lake that I filtered and purified with magic. Then, I took a dose of my elixir and meditated as I waited for the giant hag to awaken.
Minutes later, I sensed Agnes stirring. I kept my eyes closed and continued to meditate, allowing her time to assess her current precarious situation and consider the consequences of any failure to cooperate. After she had strained against her chains, grunting and exerting herself while suffering contact burns to her exposed skin, she finally relented with a frustrated sigh.
“You might as well open your eyes, Hound,” she said. “We both know I’m not going anywhere, at least not until you get what you came for.”
Eyes closed, I continued to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, maintaining a steady rhythm for several more cycles before I spoke. “You ruined my clothing, hag. No cleaner on earth could get this stench out.”
Agnes cackled softly. “You’re quite the fop, aren’t you? I suppose that’s part of what makes you so dangerous. No one who appears to be that effete could possibly be as deadly of a combatant as you’ve proven to be.”
With a final long exhalation, I opened my eyes, scanning the hag to make certain she had not managed to loosen her bonds. I doubted she would, considering how sensitive most fae were to iron and steel. I had also magically strengthened the links with wards that were specifically attuned to the fae.
To my pleasure, she looked all the worse for the wear, muddy and battered, her threadbare shift torn to reveal her sagging cleavage, and much more of her hairy, wart-covered legs than I cared to see. Her blue-black skin had chain-shaped burns everywhere the metal had made contact. As she stared at me through the curtain of stringy black hair that partially concealed her huge, bloated face, her eyes held little of the haughtiness I’d seen there before. Now, all I saw was defeat.
“We can save the discussion of my sartorial and hygienic pursuits for another time. At present, I wish for you to tell me everything you know about the human abductions the vampires are carrying out for the Fae in Underhill.”
“You get right to the point, don’t you, changeling? You might come off all cold and distant, but I can see that a hatred burns in your heart, hotter than the coals I use to cook tender young flesh. The Black Sorceress thought she’d brainwashed every bit of humanity out of you, but she was wrong. Vengeance—that’s what you seek, not justice. Not justice for those children, and not for the Queen you currently serve.”
“That is where you’re wrong, Agnes. I serve no one, save my own ends and means. As for my motivations, your alien fae mind could no more comprehend what drives me than you could understand the suffering your victims experience. Spare me the commentary and tell me what you know about how the children are being trafficked, and who is involved.”
Agnes coughed up and spat a black ball of mucus at me, and I leaned out of the way to let it pass harmlessly by. Then, I extended one of my shadow tentacles, using it to grab the chains that wrapped around her neck, twisting them until the links sizzled against her skin. She hissed in pain, writhing and struggling against her bonds as she growled and snapped at me with her crooked black teeth.
“Tell me what I want to know, or I will make you suffer. The Black Sorceress taught me much more than spell craft and swordplay. I spent years in her dungeons, learning the arts of torture firsthand. Believe me, I’ll make you wish you were mortal, and of a much frailer constitution than your fae blood provides.”
Agnes continued to struggle, and I continued to twist and tighten the chain links around her neck. Finally, she croaked her acquiescence. “No… more… wizard. I will… talk.”
“I’m pleased to know you’ve come to your senses,” I said as I withdrew the shadowy appendage, maintaining it in case I needed to repeat the exercise. “Speak.”
After a short coughing fit, the hag began to share her knowledge. “I know little of the vampires and how they’re stealing slaves for the high and mighty in Underhill. However, I’m well aware of who is accepting delivery on this side of the portals.”
While it was true that the druid had shut down all of the well-known portals that allowed for easy travel between Earth and Underhill, very powerful fae and the Tuath De still had ways and means of moving back and forth. Magic might not flow freely between Underhill and this realm anymore, but the most powerful denizens of Underhill did.
“Who takes delivery, and where will I find them?”
“Their go-between is one who calls himself Grythelias, a half-human mutt who somehow managed to become a mage of no small consequence. He takes delivery of the humans from the dead ones, then he deposits them in safe houses around the city, right under Maeve’s nose.”
I snapped the shadow tentacle out like a whip, cracking it directly in front of her face. She flinched and cringed away, fearful of the pain my magic could cause. “I want names, false identities, addresses, and everything else you can recall. Please me, and I will make your death painless and quick.”
After I had gleaned all the information I could from Black Agnes, I disposed of her in due fashion, cleaving her head cleanly from her shoulders. Then, since she was a creature of the water, I used a spell to immolate her body until nothing was left but ash and dust. This would ensure that she did not regenerate, nor would some hapless individual come along and reunite her head with the rest of her body, reviving her from an undead state.
Of course, she was a primary, and would likely be back within a few centuries. This was the way of fae primaries, the gods, and other such powers in The World Beneath. They could only be gone for so long, as it was quite difficult to permanently erase one of the powers from any plane of existence. That said, I would not have to deal with Black Agnes again, perhaps not for my entire lifetime—depending on how long the shade would allow me to live.
The next morning, the old man returned as he said he would, finding me waiting on the shore when he arrived. Other than his initial shocked expression and a brief period of muttering after he noticed the ruins of the hag’s shack, he communicated little on the way back to Uncertain. Presumably he’d decided that any person who could survive a night in the depths of the swamp was no person at all. Pleased by his reticence, I did nothing to alter his presumptions regarding my inhuman nature and the previous night’s events.
After showering at a local hotel, accommodations of which were not suited to house a sounder of swine, I changed and burned my ruined clothing in the tub. Then, I headed back to Austin with all haste. My immediate goal was to investigate and stakeout the three addresses Black Agnes had supplied me during her interrogation and torture.
According to Agnes, these addresses were rumored to house the fae who were directly involved in trafficking human children and teenagers from Texas to Underhill. Based on her information, the agents of the Vampire Nations captured humans and then delivered them directly to those locations. From what I gathered, Monty had been on his way to acquire a particular target when I caught him in the act of feeding. He would have delivered that person to Griff at the safe house where I found them.
Of course, both the Vampire Nations and the Fae of Underhill had multiple safe houses scattered around the Austin area and its surrounds. I could find most of those safe houses on my own, if I were to expend the effort. However, it had been much quicker for me to determine their whereabouts by torturing Agnes. Taking care of it myself would’ve taken too long, and the safe houses would likely have been abandoned by the time I arrived. At least now, I had some chance of intercepting the wizard at his abode.
I regretted having to waste precious time on the trip to Uncertain, but Monty would not have been aware of these locations. It made sense that the fae would not reveal the location of their safe houses to an agent of the Vampyri Council. The Vampire Nations and the Council were known for turning on their allies, and
likewise, so were the fae. Neither would divulge too much information or too many secrets to the other, for fear of being double-crossed.
It was fortunate that I was able to get the information from Black Agnes, and now I’d put it to good use. I didn’t even bother stopping by my tower as I drove into Austin. Instead, I drove straight to the first location, parking a short distance down the street and shutting off my car so I could observe the house from afar.
Nothing stirred within, only a single porch light was on, and no one came to visit the home—nor did anyone exit it—during the two hours that I staked it out. Once I was relatively certain there was no activity around the place, I exited my vehicle cloaked in shadow and investigated the house firsthand.
Upon entering the domicile, I discovered it had been disused for some time. A thin layer of dust covered everything within, and there was no sign anyone had occupied this building for months. On to the next address.
The next location proved more fruitful, in that it was occupied—but by humans, not by fae or vampires. I could only assume that the humans who occupied the house were somehow in service to the Fae of Underhill—but how, I had no clue. I cloaked myself in shadow and snuck around the side, almost invisible to any mundanes who might be peering out their windows at the time.
And who would bother to investigate a moving shadow in the darkness? Humans tended to see what they wanted to see, hear what they wanted to hear, and believe what they wanted to believe, which was why The World Beneath remained a secret and a mystery to the vast majority of humankind over all these long centuries. I waited outside the home until the humans gathered in a single room, at which time I listened in on their conversation.