* * *
“W ell now,” a sultry voice said. “Why the long faces? And why are you drawing a soulsword on me?”
I let the blade fade, hardly remembering drawing it in the moments before. As my eyes adjusted to the evening light, I could make out Alexandra’s features and her long black hair.
“Christ,” I muttered. “You about gave us all a heart attack.” I glanced behind me, and noticed that no one else seemed to be having a heart attack at all.
“He’s jumpy,” Zola said.
“And I think I have a right to be,” I said. “Have we already forgotten the fairy knight that tried to kill us, and the dark-touched vampire, and the Green Man?”
“What?” Alexandra asked. “Nixie wasn’t exaggerating. What’s happening?”
“The usual,” Foster said. “Someone that should be dead, isn’t.”
“No,” Zola said, “I doubt very much that anything she said was an exaggeration.”
“Come back to Death’s Door with us,” I said. “We need to find Frank and Park.”
Alexandra opted to take the river back to the store. Foster and Aideen went with her, leaving Zola and me to take a short walk back to the car. We were silent most of the way, walking into the bloody sunset as it scorched the sky.
“How late is it?” Zola asked.
I checked my phone. “Eight o’clock.”
“I’m too old to eat this late.”
“Oh man, why do you have to say that?” I said. We climbed back into my car and headed back to the shop. And, I suspected, dinner.
Sam’s black SUV was parked outside Death’s Door, and I hoped that meant Frank was back too. Although we hadn’t been gone that long, it might have been long enough for him and Park to do whatever they were planning to do.
* * *
“Not dead yet?” the snide little face said from the lower deadbolt at the back of the shop.
“Why haven’t we just killed him yet?” Foster asked. “It’s not like Mom’s still around to torture him. We should just put him out of his misery. And ours.”
Foster glided to the ground and stood before the twisted face. He drew his sword, and the deadbolt laughed.
“Foster,” Aideen said, “stop.”
Foster glanced back over his shoulder, eyeing Aideen. “What is it?”
“He has never taunted us like that. Not once.”
“Actually, that seems to be all he’s ever done,” I said. “But I guess I’m special.”
Foster’s gaze snapped back to the deadbolt. “What have you done?” Foster pulled his sword back, ready to strike.
The deadbolt laughed again. “You think to threaten me with that thing? You think to threaten me with death? When I have been trapped here so many years?”
Foster smiled, and there was nothing friendly in the expression. He lunged forward, his sword piercing the outer edge of the deadbolt’s face.
The eyes in the dark bronze widened, and Foster released his grip on his sword, leaving it embedded in the metal.
“I can’t hear you,” Foster said. “I can see you trying to scream. Can you feel my blade inside your head? Can you feel the power inside that thing? Does the legacy of the Sanatio not run through your veins?”
The deadbolt shook, and fluid leaked from the edges of its eyes.
“Foster,” Aideen said, placing a hand on her husband’s shoulder.
Foster pulled the sword from the deadbolt and slid it gently into its scabbard.
Sound exploded from the bronze face, a shrill cry that had me covering my ears to stop the piercing wail.
“Silence yourself,” Foster said. “Or I will cut you from that door, and let the humans have you. Imagine what they could do with their iron and steel if a mere fairy blade can do that .”
I crouched down and crossed my arms, resting my elbows on my knees. “What do you know?”
“Do what you will. My fate is sealed regardless.”
“Your fate may be sealed,” Zola said, “but the amount of pain you endure meeting that fate is not.”
We stayed there for a time, at a stalemate with the Fae trapped inside the deadbolt.
“He knows something,” Aideen said. “That he’s not willing to tell us likely means it involves someone who’d hurt him far worse than us.”
“I thought you knew us better than that,” Foster said, baring his teeth at the deadbolt.
The face winced.
“It could’ve spoken to the humans,” Aideen said. “A hapless commoner, maybe?”
Still no response.
“Let’s go in,” I said. “See if Frank’s back. It’s not like we don’t know where to find this guy.”
Foster frowned for a time and then nodded. When he stepped to the side, I pulled back and kicked the face right in the nose with a steel-toed boot. The deadbolt popped open.
We filed through the door and slammed it closed. The deadbolt grumbled on the other side.
A stampede sounded above us, and two barks, as deep as hell itself, filled the air.
“Upstairs,” Sam shouted. “Bubbles!”
Bubbles tried to stop on the stairs when Sam called her name, but inertia can be a real bitch. I frowned at the mountain of green bristly fur that had just lost its traction.
“Shit,” I muttered. Foster flashed into his full-size form, grabbing Zola and leaping over the railing, sparing her from the imminent collision.
Bubbles made about one half a rotation before she collided with me. It wasn’t unlike getting hit by a car. More fur, a little less blood. But it still hurt like hell when my tailbone bounced off the hardwood at the bottom of the stairs. Thankfully, my stomach had provided a soft landing spot for Bubbles, and she was just fine. She licked my face with great enthusiasm, and then rocketed back up the stairs to Sam, who was now choking back laughter.
“Ouch.”
“Well,” Sam said, “Alexandra is already upstairs. She said you were attacked.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but they did less damage than the cu sith.”
“Thanks, Foster,” Zola said. “I much preferred to observe that from a distance.”
I grunted and climbed up to my knees, wincing at the pain in my shoulder. My back. My left knee. My right ankle. “Ouch.”
“I can heal that, Damian,” Aideen said.
“That would be great. Let me go flop into a nice soft chair.” I glanced up at Sam. “Is Frank back?”
Sam shook her head.
“Have you heard from him?” I asked, starting up the stairs. Slowly.
“He’s on his way. We’re supposed to go out for a late dinner.”
My stomach rumbled at the mere mention of dinner.
“I thought the corpses you placed in the river would have deterred attacks more thoroughly,” Alexandra said as I crested the stairs.
“You’d think,” I said.
I was still hobbling my way down the hall when Foster glided past me. He swooped down on the coffee table, raising a hand to Sam in greeting as she settled into one of the overstuffed chairs. I glanced over my shoulder to find Zola moving a lot more gracefully than I was. Aideen was hanging onto one of her braids, but I couldn’t make out their conversation.
The bookshelves upstairs were full enough they didn’t give me much room to hold on. I stumbled a bit as my ankle tried to give out, and I began to regret not taking Aideen up on her offer to heal me downstairs.
Zola raised an eyebrow in judgment as Aideen climbed one of the bookshelves beside me.
“Oh, Damian,” Aideen said. She didn’t give me any notice, simply said, “Socius Sanation .”
I winced as the tendons and muscles in my ankle knit back together. It wasn’t until the healing hit my back that I really understood how much damage Bubbles had done. Something cracked and shifted, and my vision went white for a moment before the pain faded.
“Thanks.” I took a few deep breaths and still clung to the bookshelves. The fairies had healed me enough over the years that I knew trying to walk immediately would just result in a quick face plant.
“Try not to be so stubborn,” Aideen said.
Sam flashed me a grin.
“Shut up.” I made my way to the nearest overstuffed chair and settled in with a sigh as Aideen landed beside Foster.
Something crinkled. Like stiff plastic or foil. I glanced around the group and my eyes settled on Alexandra. Her hand vanished into a Ziploc bag, pulling out a huge strip of beef jerky.
“Food,” I said, drawing the word out.
Sam sighed and raised an eyebrow. “Are you not going to survive?”
Alexandra looked down at the bag of beef jerky in her lap. She smiled and leaned forward to hand it to me. “We don’t have anything quite this spicy in Faerie.”
“Not unless it’s being used for torture,” Foster said. “I wonder what would happen if we fed that to the deadbolt.”
I took the bag from Alexandra and winced at the fiery aroma. “I didn’t realize this was Frank’s death jerky.”
“Lord,” Sam muttered. She scooped another bag up off the floor and tossed it to me. “Less spicy.”
I handed the face-melting bag to Zola, who seemed very happy to accept it. She was reaching for her second piece when Bubbles’s tongue shot out and stole it. The cu sith chewed, and then froze. Her head cocked to the side, and she tried her damnedest to spit out the fiery piece of jerky.
Bubbles vanished and thundered down the stairs. I suspected she was heading for her water bowl.
“That’s something I’ve never seen before,” Alexandra said.
I popped a piece of the bland jerky into my mouth. It was a great teriyaki recipe, a fantastic blend of salty and sweet.
“I could get you a piece of old cardboard instead,” Zola said.
“Just because something won’t burn your face off,” I said, “doesn’t mean it isn’t fantastic.”
Alexandra smiled and took a few pieces of inferno jerky from Zola when she offered.
“What’s been happening?” I asked Alexandra. “Nixie said she couldn’t come here herself, and that you and Euphemia were both tied up.”
Alexandra nodded. “Things have gotten worse in the far east of Falias. It isn’t only the queen’s attacks in Europe we must be vigilant for. She’s been striking the military patrols along the coastal waters.”
“Not surprising,” Aideen said. “You told us yourself some of the queen’s soldiers don’t wish to set foot in Saint Charles.”
“Of course not,” Alexandra said. “You’ve lined the rivers with the corpses of their sisters.”
Sam’s fingers froze over her phone. “Well, that sounded creepy.” She resumed texting a moment later, her fingernails beating out a rapid staccato.
“Regardless,” Foster said, “we’re glad you’re here.”
Alexandra nodded. “And I’m happy to come and see you all, but why have you summoned me here? It seems you have everything well in hand, do you not?”
“One of the soldiers bled green poison,” Foster said, dropping any pretext from the conversation.
Alexandra froze. “What?”
“Any idea who could’ve done it?” Sam managed to relay the question without making an accusation. I could say something as simple as “hi” and it sounded accusatory. Sam had much better people skills with some things, but at least I didn’t eat them.
The water witch shook her head. “The flower only grows in Faerie, its roots bound in Magrasnetto ore. The last I heard spoken of it, there were none left alive.”
“There are already weapons out there,” Aideen said. “They don’t lose their power so easily.”
“It will be lost, eventually,” Alexandra said, “but it takes millennia for it to be worked out of the blade. In a mortal’s eyes, the poison would never leave.”
“I don’t believe there can be much doubt who brought those weapons here,” Aideen said.
“No,” Alexandra said. “Even so, the military here has no understanding of the subtleties of the queen of the water witches.”
Aideen frowned.
“I think you understand,” Alexandra said with a nod. “Why would the military believe that a water witch stationed in Europe would attack any of their forces in this country?”
“They’re setting you up?” Sam asked.
Alexandra nodded. “That’s all that makes sense to me. And now you tell me the military here has been attacked with one of our poison blades. There aren’t many witches with access to such a powerful weapon.”
“Are they as rare as the stone daggers?” I asked.
“Not so rare as that,” Alexandra said. “Many believe the stone daggers can still be forged. They are correct. One of the ironborn, or even someone of Calbach’s skills could create another. But the very flowers to make the poison daggers are no more, long since extinct.”
“Only water witches with access to the Queen’s Armory could get their hands on those blades,” Aideen said.
Alexandra gave one shake of her head. “There are a few more, in Nudd’s Armory. There aren’t a great many, but those aren’t the only places to get one of the poison blades. Nixie has at least two that I’m aware of.”
I cursed.
“You understand,” Alexandra said. “It would be an easy thing to frame Nixie for the attack. The military believes that the water witches of the rebellion are to blame. That logic will take a natural course.”
“That would lead them back to us,” Zola said. She squeezed her knobby old cane. “We cannot sit by and wait for this to play out. We must move.”