* * *
T he deadbolt in the back door squawked when someone slammed their foot into it and pushed their way into the shop. A female voice I didn’t recognize was shouting, and a moment later I heard Foster shouting back. Zola and I exchanged a look. She scooped up her knobby old cane, and I regretted having left the pepperbox downstairs. I wasn’t defenseless, but I also didn’t want to accidentally tear the shop down with a badly placed art.
“Foster!” I shouted. “Everything okay?”
“Hospital was attacked,” Alexandra said as she dashed up the stairs. It wasn’t her voice I’d heard at first. Someone else pounded up the stairs behind her.
“Casper?” I asked.
“Pants,” she said. “Foster said you have some pants.”
I blinked and glanced at her charred hospital gown. “Why don’t you have pants? What the hell happened?”
“I was in a bit of a hurry,” Casper said. “Being everything was on fire.”
“Some bloody fairy incinerated the ICU,” Foster said.
“Killed two guards,” Aideen said.
“The imposter was right next to me,” Alexandra said. “I could have mistaken him for Foster.”
“Same here,” Casper said. She turned to face the stairs, in the blind spot of anyone who might happen to come up. She glanced back at me and caught me frowning at the mesh underwear showing through her hospital gown.
“Enjoying the show?” Casper asked.
“No, I have, I mean …”
“What he meant to say,” Zola said, “is that he will get you some pants.”
I nodded quickly, offered Casper an awkward smile, and ran down the stairs.
* * *
We kept an array of extra clothes in the closet on the first floor. At one time, we had several shelves that were always full of miscellaneous junk, which made finding anything half impossible. Thankfully, most of that was behind the door now, and we didn’t have to remember that everything was half impossible to find until we actually opened the door.
“Was that Casper?” Foster asked as he landed on one of the shelves above where I was rooting. “I didn’t recognize her all unwrapped.”
I nodded. “Aideen and Alexandra are with her. Apparently you attacked the hospital.”
Foster cursed. “Drake?”
“It sounds like the entire ICU was burned up.”
Foster cursed at length and then launched himself into the air, gliding to the staircase and rocketing upstairs. I caught sight of Frank and Sam as they returned from whatever post-dinner adventure they’d been on. I turned to the slightly dusty pile of clothes on the bottom two shelves. Casper was a bit shorter than Nixie, but she was solid muscle. Sam’s extra sweatpants might be a little short on her, but I figured that would be better than having something too long getting tangled up in her legs. I snatched the black sweatpants off the shelf, grabbed a black T-shirt, and headed back up the stairs.
“It was a powerful glamor,” Aideen said. “It looked like you, Foster. I mean every detail.”
“Everything except the armor,” Alexandra said. “For some reason, he cannot mask the armor of the Mad King, or chose not to.”
“A tactical decision?” Casper asked, taking the sweatpants from me. “It’s possible he didn’t mask his armor so that his own people wouldn’t kill him.”
“As good a theory as any,” Zola said. “How much damage was done to the hospital?”
“If there was anyone else in the ICU,” Casper said, “they’re dead.”
“Drake burned out most of what we could see,” Aideen said.
“I extinguished what I could,” Alexandra said. “Once the sprinklers went off, it was easy enough to guide that tainted water.”
“I’m so glad you were there,” Aideen said with a shudder. “Who knows how much iron had leeched into that water.”
Alexandra shook her head. “It couldn’t have been much. If it was truly Drake, he isn’t ironborn. That would’ve hurt him just as much as it would hurt you.”
Frank coughed and turned away when Casper nonchalantly dropped her hospital gown and slipped into the T-shirt. “What …” Frank started. “So they’re really trying to kill Casper?”
“I’d say so,” Casper said. “You can turn around now,” she said with a smile.
Sam didn’t say anything, but she gave Frank a small smirk.
“I’m glad everyone has pants now,” Foster said. “Did anyone see you come into the shop? Did anyone follow you?”
“Foster,” Sam said. “Who else could it have been? You think Drake won’t know it was one of us?”
“I guess it’s a good thing we have some defenses here,” I said. “Although we need to put a muzzle on that deadbolt if it’s really been talking to the commoners.”
“You are strange people,” Casper said. “I need to get ahold of Park. He needs to know what happened.”
“You need to stay here,” Zola said. “You’re the only one Park will fully trust. Without you, he may believe Foster capable of attacking the hospital.”
Casper shook her head. “You don’t give him enough credit. He’s talked about Foster and Aideen at length. Even the big rock that camps out by the river sometimes.”
“Mr. Chatty,” I said. “That’s actually his name. If you see him, you should call him Mr. Chatty.”
Zola sighed, clearly exasperated. “Just ignore him.”
“Here,” Frank said, “call Park on this.”
“Thank you,” Casper said, taking the phone from Frank. “Can I get a little privacy? Some of what I have to tell Park is not for everyone’s ears.”
“Yeah, sure,” Frank said. “Just go downstairs anywhere you like. With all the books and carpet up here, we can hardly hear anything that goes on down there.”
Casper nodded. I noticed her bare feet as she started descending the stairs.
“I think there might be some flip-flops in the closet by the table,” I said.
“Thanks.” She vanished around the turn of the stairs.
“We should try to keep her here,” Aideen said. “If it’s only the fairies hunting her, the blood shield is her best chance at staying hidden.”
“She’s the only survivor,” Foster said. “They come for her, it’s going to be fast. It’s what I’d do.”
“What happened?” Sam asked. “They literally attacked the ICU at the hospital? While impersonating Foster?”
Aideen nodded. “And the impersonator …” She shuddered. “Their glamor was inscrutable.”
I started back toward the chairs, settling into the one nearest the shelf on the back wall while the others filtered in.
Sam looked down at the Book that Bleeds and grimaced. “Gross. Did you seriously let that thing fill up the pizza box?”
“But why now?”
“Because he’s gross?” Sam responded.
Alexandra smiled. “That is not what I meant. Why would Drake surface now? A man known as the right hand of the Mad King. He was believed to be dead. No one has seen him in hundreds of years.”
Zola frowned and rested her hand on top of her knobby old cane. “What do you know of the bindings on the Book that Bleeds?” She glanced at me and then turned her gaze back to Alexandra and Aideen.
“With all due respect, my friend,” Alexandra said, “I don’t believe this to be the time to discuss that relic.”
“Perhaps,” Zola said. “But earlier today Damian was reading a passage that remained in the old tongues. A passage about the Mad King.”
“The book is ancient,” Aideen said. “It’s not unusual for those translation spells to wear down. And I believe they were laid on that book long before any preservation runes were added.”
“A coincidence then?” Zola asked. “A coincidence those pages were blurred to my eyes, but clear to Damian?”
“I can’t read it all,” I said. “Some of it’s in a language I don’t understand.”
“But you can read some of what Zola can’t?” Alexandra said, frowning. “If you can read the words on the page, but Zola can’t, then whatever spell is hiding it is still intact. Why wouldn’t it work on you?”
“Could it be his bloodline?” Sam asked.
“I wondered the same thing,” Zola said.
“Perhaps not the bloodline,” Alexandra said, “as much as the legacy of magic that resides in his soul.”
“Well, there’s an easy way to test that,” Frank said.
We all looked at Frank. Alexandra raised what I suspected to be a skeptical eyebrow.
“See if Sam can read the pages. Damian’s soul is in her aura, right?”
“Truly?” Alexandra asked.
“Was that still a secret?” Frank asked. “I thought everyone knew that by now.” He pursed his lips and glanced between Sam and Alexandra.
“Nudd and the courts already want to kill Damian,” Alexandra said. “I don’t think anyone finding out at this point is going to do much damage.”
“That’s reassuring,” I muttered.
“You think it’ll work?” Frank asked.
Alexandra shrugged. “There’s only one way to know.”
“Show us the page,” Aideen said.
I ran my finger along the thick pages where the last ribbon bookmark I’d inserted waited. The paper was almost glassy, and the feel was entirely wrong. It always bothered me about the book, how it felt like modern paper when it should have felt like mold or old parchment. I turned the tome toward Sam, Aideen, and Alexandra.
“Can you read it?” I asked.
“I can see it has words,” Sam said, “but I don’t understand them. It’s not in a language I recognize.”
“Interesting,” Zola said. “But can we be sure Samantha’s aura is the reason she can read it?”
Aideen took up a perch on Alexandra’s shoulder, and they both gazed down at the old text. Foster glided off the bookshelf and perched on Alexandra’s other shoulder.
They studied it for a time before Alexandra finally said, “There is no great secret on this page. I don’t understand why this spell is different.”
“It’s about the Wandering War,” I said, “right?”
Alexandra nodded. “There is mention of the war, and the Mad King, but I don’t see what this … what this …”
Aideen hopped down onto the table, staring wide-eyed at the Book that Bleeds. The blood pooled around her ankles, just skirting the bottom of her wings. “That can’t be. That’s not what happened in the war.”
“Whose account is this?” Foster asked.
Zola flexed her fingers on her cane. “What’s wrong?”
“It has to be a mistake,” Alexandra said.
“There’s one line here,” Aideen said, leaning forward and running her finger along the text. “It states essentially that the Mad King was locked away for all eternity in a prison of his own making. But that’s not what happened.”
“He was slain,” Foster said. “The story of the battle between the Mad King and Gwynn Ap Nudd is one of our oldest tales from the current king’s age.”
“Perhaps Drake’s appearance is not a coincidence,” Alexandra said, her expression sober.
“Nixie said something about the poison blades of the water witches not being a coincidence,” I said. “I meant to ask you about that.”
Alexandra frowned, then glanced between me and the fairies. “Some of the poison daggers were stolen.”
“Who knows about it?” Aideen asked.
“Those of us loyal to Nixie have started another armory. There is more than one location, which we thought would help deter the theft of any of the more dangerous weapons.”
“I take it you were wrong?” Zola asked.
“No,” Alexandra said. “The poison blades are not as closely guarded as the stone daggers. They were in a secondary location, but still heavily guarded, under constant surveillance. The only way the armory could’ve been discovered is if we have spies in our ranks.”
“Is the armory here?” Sam asked. “Someplace close by that they could’ve taken the blades and used them to kill Casper’s squad?”
“No,” Alexandra said. “We have assets at the ready, but none of the poison blades were being stored in this country.”
“I guess that doesn’t really matter, though,” Sam said. “If a Fae took the Warded Ways, they could travel here in an instant.”
“And I’m afraid the attack here,” Alexandra said, “isn’t the first that has happened in this country.”
“Falias?” Frank asked.
“Yes. But why do you ask?” Alexandra frowned slightly at Frank. “Have you heard from someone there?”
“That’s where all the friendly Fae are supposed to live,” Frank said. “If the commoners are getting murdered there, and maybe even the military, it’s going to shake up people’s trust.”
“Yes,” Alexandra said, surprise plain in her voice. “I’m afraid that is exactly what has happened.”
I cursed. “And that’s what has the Obsidian Inn all tied up.”
Alexandra nodded.
“Damian?” Casper’s voice said, echoing up the stairs. “Damian!” Her voice rose in pitch, cutting off the rest of our conversation.
I hopped out of the overstuffed chair and jogged toward the staircase. “Yeah? What is it?”
“Mr. Chatty is squaring off with some Fae out front.”
“What?” Alexandra said, hurrying after me.
Something crashed. A thunderous report like two giant boulders colliding shook the building beneath our feet. I cursed again.
“Aeros,” I said. “She means Aeros is out front.” I started down the stairs, hurtling down to the middle landing before jumping to the bottom.
“Since when is Aeros called Mr. Chatty?” Sam shouted as she appeared beside me, her sudden vampiric appearance scaring about twelve years off my life.
“Bad joke,” I said, following Casper through the saloon-style doors in the front of the shop.
“Christ,” I said as I opened the door. It was plain to see what the thunderclap that had shaken the building was. A bloody smear and an explosion of gore had erupted from Aeros’s rocky hands. He had literally smashed the life out of something. Or someone.
The disembodied scream that echoed around us a moment later told me it had been a fairy. Ley lines sparked to life, siphoning away the Fae’s body. Aeros spread his hands, and the gore-soaked armor within clattered onto the cobblestones.
“That was a clever trick,” the remaining fairy said, calling my attention to the shadows outside a nearby shop. He glanced down at his arm, either checking for damage or checking for the viscera of his ally.
“Drake,” Alexandra said, coming to a stop a half step ahead of me.
The fairy only glanced at the water witch. He kept his focus on Aeros, the cautious gaze betraying his nonchalant stride.
“Alexandra,” Drake said. “I would not have expected you to side with traitors to the throne.”
“Our king is a traitor himself. He had to betray the throne to take it. Regardless of the fact our last king was mad.”
“I found them attempting to pick the lock on the front door,” Aeros said. “They intended to kill the one blessed with the old blood.”
“They keep trying to,” I said. “And they keep dying.” I gave Drake a broad smile.