25

Vic

The watchtower, a metal cylinder capped by a dome that made it look like an observatory, rose ahead of them. The green sky gleamed off its corrugated metal surface.

“It’s a grain elevator,” Vic said, stating the obvious to shift his thoughts away from the consequences of failure.

“Just so,” Argent said. “It is Oklahoma, after all.”

Tractors driven by what looked like goblins, green-skinned with spiny teeth in overalls and trucker hats circled the tower, chewed at the alfalfa that grew back as quickly as they mowed it down. The scent filled the air, like summer and harvest. It was all very wonderous and yet rural. It reminded Vic of Adam.

“You asked me if I was all right,” Vic said as Argent drove the Lincoln. “How about you?”

“What do you mean?” She raised an eyebrow.

“You showed up with an awful lot of force for Vran and the others.”

“Vran’s court is in hiding, in exile. They could choose any moment to attack. You saw how rash they can be.”

“But some of them were there to watch you, weren’t they?” he asked. “Are things all right between you and your brother?”

“Things are as they are, Vicente,” Argent said her tone icy.

He dropped the subject, knowing she wouldn’t tell him anyway. He couldn’t risk offending her. They had to work together to have any chance of saving Adam.

Argent brought the Lincoln to a stop outside the tower.

Any car, he promised again, hoping it was one he could keep. Anything, any ring.

Because that was the future he wanted with Adam. He wanted rings and a cake, and a first dance in matching tuxedos. The desert hadn’t stolen all his dreams, and even if it had, he’d make new ones.

The Watchtower of the North was more guarded than any military facility Vic had seen. Elves were everywhere. Dressed in their suits and fedoras, they carried swords and tommy guns. The former were traditional. The latter new, and disturbing.

“You guys ever going to let the gangster theme go?” Vic asked Argent as they walked toward the steel doors at the tower’s base.

“We are slow to change,” she said. “Be glad it’s no longer Victorian dress. Though you would look fetching in a top hat and a cravat, the bustles and collars were a pain for swordplay.”

“Not the corsets?” Vic asked.

“People so often get that wrong. Most years, stays and corsets were more comfortable than bras. I often miss them.”

Vic felt his own clothing ripple and shift, responding to Argent’s magic.

“There it is,” he said, looking down at the black pinstripe suit and the shiny patent leather shoes. He felt clean, like he’d showered, shaved, and styled his hair. Vic especially liked the tie, black silk with little embroidered skulls and matching cuff links. “I was wondering if you’d be able to resist dressing me.”

“You cannot go to court as you were,” she said. “And the smell was getting to me.”

Vic took it as a good sign that she was feeling enough like herself to tease him.

He felt better too. They had a chance, a direction, something they could do to solve the problem.

Nothing hurt more than sitting on the fence.

“Do I need the glasses?” he asked, gesturing to his eyes to remind her of the protection she’d provided him before.

“No. Glamours are mandatory in my brother’s court.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” she said.

Silver and Argent’s father had not cared about mortals enough to protect them from his true form. Vic imagined plenty of elves felt the same.

“That must have ruffled some feathers,” he said.

“Quite,” she said.

They reached a set of double doors.

“I am glad he’s alive, Vicente,” Argent said. “I will try to help you bring him home.”

She pushed open the doors.

The way magic bent time and space it could have been piles of grain, a medieval court, or something fantastic, with marble columns floating in space.

Vic had been prepared for almost anything, but walking into a classroom surprised him.

It was the theater kind, with rows of seats looking down toward the podium.

Silver stood at the lectern, his classic suit a combination of platinum and grays. On anyone else it would have been flashy and maybe a bit tacky, but the elven king pulled it off.

Vic was not insecure about his looks. He knew he made Argent’s makeover look good, but Silver was beautiful, graceful, in a way that bordered on painful to watch.

Vic hadn’t seen the young king since he’d shot his father. He’d always looked around twenty-three, lean and what Vic’s grandmother would have called dapper. Now he wore a few more years and a lot more muscle, with a defined chest and squared shoulders that were noticeable even with his suit.

There were elves everywhere, most of them standing in the eaves, clearly on guard. They were every gender, including some Vic knew weren’t labeled, and they were every color, not only shades you’d find among humans, but blues and greens too. This was also new, and Vic wondered if Silver was diversifying his court.

Silver’s fedora matched his suit, with a sword pattern woven into the ribbon around the band. Vic wondered if he’d had to fight to forgo an actual crown. Elves liked their traditions, and Vic wondered how much of the tension in the room was from their new ruler shaking things up.

Vic didn’t see Vran, but Bobby and Jodi sat together at a desk, silently watching the room. Jodi spotted Vic and tugged Bobby’s sleeve. The Binders looked relieved to see him.

“He’s alive,” Vic said, stepping toward them.

Jodi wiped at her eyes as Bobby squeezed his shut and exhaled.

“Where’s Mel?” he asked.

“She’s fine. She’s with her mom. Vran?”

“They took him away, said they were going to examine him,” Bobby said.

“He should be okay,” Vic assured them. “Argent said so.”

“You trust her?” Bobby asked.

“She swore it, so yeah,” Vic said. “I do.”

“Sister,” Silver greeted, loud enough to bring things to order.

“Brother,” Argent answered, sweeping low in a bow.

Vic did not like seeing Argent defer to anyone.

“What news then of Death?” Silver asked.

“She lives, but falters,” Argent said. “Removing the mortals from the underworld has stabilized things, but it is not enough.”

“What does she require?” Silver asked.

“Adam,” Vic said, cutting in. “We need to find him.”

Most of the assembly glared at Vic.

Too bad. If they wanted him to keep quiet they should have said so beforehand. They didn’t have time for lengthy word games.

“She needs a warlock,” Argent stressed. “They’re rare enough that Adam is our best option, but he’s lost outside reality. We must retrieve him and use him to restore the underworld to balance.”

“How?” It was Bobby’s turn to interrupt. “How is Adam supposed to fix it?”

“He has to kill the demons that have gained sentience,” Vic said. “Put them back on track.”

“You’re going to ask him to commit genocide?” Bobby asked.

The elves around the chamber remained tense, but Silver showed no emotion, no hint of what he was feeling.

“You said that he’s already killed two of them,” Argent said.

“And it was hell on him,” Vic said, staring Silver down. “He might not come back from it. Can you really ask him to kill them all?”

“We have to find him first,” Argent said. “Let’s rescue him then we can ask him how he feels about the demons.”

“Agreed,” Silver said.

“What about Vran?” Vic asked.

“He’s safe,” Silver said, his voice gentle. “He’s hurt, changed. We don’t know how much or the long-term effects, but he showed a remarkable gift, to reach as low into the planes as he did. He may yet have a part to play in finding Adam.”

Vic met the king’s eyes. He stood straight, looking authoritative, but not cruel, not like his father. Vic could read the concern in his eyes and hoped Silver meant it for Vran as much as for Adam.

“You didn’t help Adam before,” Vic said.

“No, I did not,” Silver said. “It was too risky, and he’s proven me right. I’m sorry to say it, but while your life matters, Vicente, Adam’s means quite a bit more to me.”

“Fair enough,” Vic conceded. “And back at you.”

“They’re no longer bound,” an elf said. It was Dautre, the guard that Argent had put the fear of well, her, into at the drive-in. “How will we find the warlock in the Nothing?”

“He’s got a point,” Vic said. “We’re not connected anymore.”

“It may not work,” Silver said. “But I am going to try.”

“What do you need?” Vic asked.

“A lot of magic, and blood. Adam’s blood.”

Silver leveled his gaze at Jodi and Bobby.

“We don’t . . . Oh, you mean our family,” Bobby said. “Of course I’ll do it.”

“I’m in,” Jodi said, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Do you mean it?” Vic asked. “You stabbed him in the back before.”

“Of course I mean it,” Jodi snapped. “I saw what he did for us. He saved us. He saved me.”

“Even so,” Silver said, “spells like this require three. We’ll need another Binder.”

“You don’t mean my mother do you?” Bobby asked with a grimace.

“She is closest,” Silver said.

“And she knows of our existence,” Argent added.

Vic didn’t like dragging Tilla Mae into it. He didn’t like the idea of her knowing her son was lost and that they might not find him. The woman was hard, but also brittle. Vic suspected that she might break more easily than anyone thought.

“Do we have to?” Bobby asked. “She hates this stuff.”

“The connection between Adam and Vicente is gone,” Silver said. “Even with it, we would need as many links to Adam as possible to forge a connection.”

“She’ll do it,” Bobby said. “She won’t like it, but she’ll do it for Adam.”

“Then let’s go talk to Tilla Mae,” Vic said.