* * *
W e plopped down into the chairs around the old Formica table, between Bubbles’s lair and the fairies’ grandfather clock. I cracked open a bag of Oreos.
“Are you okay?” Aideen asked, focusing on Alexandra.
The water witch nodded. “I’m sorry. Park reminds me of a soldier we knew a very long time ago. He had good intentions, but he got many of my sisters killed.”
“Atlantis?” Zola asked.
Alexandra nodded. “Yes, only a century before it sank. Perhaps a little more.”
“You’re not invulnerable,” Zola said. “Ah’m not sure you should’ve said that to Park.”
“We’re invulnerable enough,” Alexandra said. “Though I have found it unwise to underestimate the commoners. They’re inventive, and murderous.”
“They consider you pretty murderous, too,” Foster said. “I mean, before you were reformed and everything. You did have a pretty nasty habit of drowning people.”
I shot Foster a grin and my phone buzzed. “It’s Sam. They made it.”
“Good,” Zola said. “The last thing we need is a confrontation with the military.”
“You mean to support Park’s assault,” Alexandra said.
I nodded.
“Then you must understand,” she said, “you’ll be doing it without the assistance of the Obsidian Inn. Ward, the Old Man, Mike—everyone is out of touch. Whatever is happening there has caused them to go underground. None of us can reach them.”
Bubbles flopped her head onto my thigh. She raised her yellow eyes to me, her sad, sad eyes. I slowly chewed an Oreo and glanced down at her as the tip of her pink tongue fluttered in and out of her pouting mouth.
“No dog should be that expressive,” I said. “You give guilt trips as bad as Zola.” I flipped an Oreo up into the air, and Bubbles’s tongue shot out like a chameleon’s, snatching the cookie before it crashed onto the table.
“I swear you two could subsist entirely on junk,” Aideen said.
“Who’s a good dog?” I said in my best baby talk. “Who’s a good dog!”
“Thankfully, she’s not a dog,” Zola said, “or she probably would’ve been dead from Oreos a long time ago.”
Bubbles flopped her furry braided tail back and forth a few times until she finally gave up on me giving her another Oreo. The cu sith trundled off, vanishing down into the shadows of her lair.
“We should go to Falias,” Foster said. “If Nudd is making his move …”
“Or the queen,” Alexandra said.
“Can we reach the Obsidian Inn through the Ways?” Aideen asked.
“No.”
“What do you think it means?” I asked.
“An escalation,” Foster said. “But how much of an escalation is it?”
“We can’t abandon Saint Charles,” Zola said. “What’s happening in Falias may be a design to draw us out. Something to get Aeros away from here. Something to get us to leave our home unguarded.”
“Then why would Drake be here?” Foster asked. “It makes no sense.”
“I agree,” Alexandra said. “It’s Nixie who should be here. I should be in Falias.”
“You believe that?” Zola asked. She crooked a finger at Alexandra. “I don’t believe we should allow our forces to be divided any further. It’s a simple strategy in war—one that has been used for centuries, as you well know—and we should be wary.”
“It’s predictable,” Foster said.
“Just because it’s predictable doesn’t mean it’s not effective.” I blinked and glanced at Zola. That was something she used to say to me during training.
A smile wrinkled her lips. “We stay with Park. I believe he’s the real target here.”
“Just point me at someone to kill,” Alexandra said.
“Are you related to Foster?” I asked. “It really seems like you’re related to Foster. He likes stabbing things.”
“A lot,” Foster said.
“We are related,” Alexandra said.
I frowned slightly. “I thought that was just Nixie?”
Alexandra sighed and crossed her arms. “Nixie is what you would call my second cousin.”
“That’s perhaps a loose interpretation,” Aideen said.
Alexandra shrugged. “It’s good enough.”
I handed Alexandra a cookie. She eyed it with something like disdain. Or maybe disgust. She didn’t seem to have much love for processed food, unless it was deep-fried and Irish.
“So,” I said. “Are you coming with us in the morning?” I frowned for a moment. “Morning is probably relative. I’m pretty sure we’re all sleeping in.”
Alexandra looked around the table. “All of you intend to stay here? To fight alongside this commoner and his soldiers?”
“Yes,” we said as one.
“That was creepy,” Alexandra said. “For now, I’ll stay by your side. As my queen has ordered.”
“Bubbles makes a nice pillow in an emergency,” I said. “You know, if you want to stay here.”
“You’re welcome to come to the Pit with me,” Zola said. “Ah’m sure Vik wouldn’t mind, and he has some excellent guest rooms.”
“I appreciate the offer,” Alexandra said, nodding to Zola. “I believe I’ll stay with my cousins in their home tonight.”
“I might have an air mattress in the closet,” I said.
“That won’t be necessary,” Alexandra said. “Come Aideen, show me around your home.”
Aideen flew toward the grandfather clock, pausing on one of the lower shelves by the swinging pendulum. “It’s a little cramped. And try not to get hit by the counterweight. It’s not healthy for magical beings.”
I stared at Alexandra as she grew translucent and her body pulled in on itself as she stepped toward the clock. By the time she reached the shelf Aideen was standing on, Alexandra was no taller than the fairy.
“What the crap?”
Alexandra frowned at me and put her hands on her hips. “You … didn’t know we can what? Shrink?”
“I thought you could just change and vanish into water.” I held my hands out, grasping for an answer. “No, I didn’t know you could shrink as small as Foster and Aideen.”
“Oh,” Alexandra said with a smirk, “Nixie’s going to have some fun with you.”
And with that, she vanished into the recesses of the old grandfather clock.
“Did you know?” I asked Zola.
She shook her head. “I had no idea. Perhaps nothing is stealthier than water inside of a body of water, but imagine their ability to spy by combining those skills.”
“But Nixie never showed you that?” Foster asked.
“No.”
He grinned. And he kept grinning.
“Are you having a seizure?” I asked.
“Oh no, oh no. It’s nothing.”
“All right, I’m going to do some studying upstairs and sleep on a chair because who needs a bed, anyway?”
“You should probably just move out of your apartment,” Zola said. “It’s like you’re never there anymore.”
I shrugged. “Good night, Foster. Zola.” I stood up and walked toward the stairs.
“Damian,” Foster said. “Next time you see Nixie, ask her to show you. And make sure you’re alone.”
I glanced back at the fairy, and he winked at me.
“Oh,” Zola said. “It’s a sex thing.”
Foster burst into laughter, and I shook my head as I headed upstairs.
* * *
I cursed and flopped onto one of the overstuffed leather chairs. The empty pizza box caught my eye, still filled with translucent blood from the Book that Bleeds. I rubbed my forehead and sighed, turning to the panel in the wall behind me.
The chest was well concealed, both physically and, more importantly, magically. I left it on the floor where I’d slid it from the wall, as it had grown quite heavy with all the various things I’d hidden away inside it. The lid creaked slightly, the wards etched into the top catching the dim light in the little alcove.
Inside was the slot from which I’d pulled the Book that Bleeds, and where I now replaced it, sealing it in a waterproof bag. I used to just toss it in haphazardly, but I must admit that opening the box full of that ghost blood was occasionally unnerving. The hand of glory, Gaia’s hand, sat on top of the box’s contents, wrapped in a black silk cloth. I moved it to the side, remembering the sight of Gaia’s still form resting in the cellars beneath Rivercene. I wondered how much more to the story there was that the innkeeper hadn’t told me, and whether I’d ever really learn the full story.
Beneath that were the extra blue obsidian discs Nixie had gifted me. It would be good for our allies to have one, and I also felt a hell of a lot more secure about possibly losing one. It was the easiest way to communicate with her and outside of a video chat, the easiest way to see her, though I was still known to take an impromptu trip with Gaia’s hand to visit her on the rare occasions we both had a few hours to spare.
The splendorum mortem rested on the next level of miscellany, its deadly blade inside a brown leather sheath. I ran my fingertips along the cold iron and remembered the sickening crack it had made entering Ezekiel’s skull, and the unnerving lack of resistance it’d found.
I frowned at the charred fragments of the shattered demon staff as I shifted the contents around. It was one of the few things I probably didn’t need to conceal inside the trunk; there was really nothing anyone could use it for to harm me or mine. It was a stark reminder of how dangerous these objects could be. Of how close I had come to losing everything.
And perhaps that was most important to remember, regarding what lay beneath.
I lifted the Key of the Dead in my left hand and held Tessrian’s bloodstone in my right. I still intended to return her to the Burning Lands. I’d given her my word, and without her, we might not have been able to release Vicky from her legacy as the Destroyer. For that, I owed Tessrian. Demon or not.
I set the mottled red and green bloodstone on the coffee table, beside the now-empty pizza box. There was no trace of the blood that had been there before; it vanished as soon as I’d lifted the Book that Bleeds and slid it back into its slot inside the chest.
I turned the dagger across my arm. Its blade wasn’t particularly sharp, but I knew what power lived within it. And I had little doubt there was far more for me to learn. What I’d read about the keys of the dead in the Book that Bleeds unnerved me. They could be used to break Seals, the great Seals that separated dimensions. They could be used to rebuild them, or to help forge an entirely new Seal. What the Book that Bleeds had not told me, however, was what powers or incantations one would need to accomplish these things. How dangerous was it in the hands of the seventh son of Anubis?
I ran my thumb in a clockwise circle across the faded runes on the circular ornaments at the base of the hilt. Gwynn Ap Nudd had left the Key of the Dead with me when he could’ve taken it. A trap? After more research in the Book that Bleeds, I didn’t think so. Gwynn Ap Nudd was not ironborn, and the dagger was forged from iron and nickel, diluted with Magrasnetto.
With the Key of the Dead and Gaia’s help, I could step into the bloodstone with Tessrian. And legend said I would be able to step into any bloodstone, holding any demon. I don’t know that Tessrian and I had what most would call a relationship, but I had something she wanted, and that kept us on fairly good terms.
Stepping into a bloodstone with a random demon, on the other hand, would likely be a long walk off a very short plank.
I set the dagger on the table and picked up the bloodstone. I wondered if there was something else I could do with the demons. Some way to manipulate them into helping us in the war against Gwynn Ap Nudd. But they were unpredictable creatures at best. And some of them weren’t demons at all. Regardless of his existence as a fire demon, I could never lump Mike in with those creatures. A memory surfaced, a quick glimpse of Mike’s true form, the long limbs, the twisted horns … but I’d also seen his gentleness. I’d seen the oath that he’d sworn. I’d seen his broken spirit when Sarah died. If he had ever been a demon, he wasn’t one anymore.
I put the dagger and the stone back into the trunk before sliding Gaia’s hand into my backpack. I closed the trunk and placed it gently flush in its nook against the wall, where it vanished. No mortal, nor many Fae, for that matter, would be able to see it. Much less open it.
I’d spent too many hours buried in the Book that Bleeds. I needed something, not necessarily lighter, but something that I could relax while reading. I picked a thin blue tome from the bookshelf on the wall above the chest. And I flipped to the third chapter of Leviticus Aureus and the Fall of Atlantis.