Chapter 10

Doom and Gloom

 

Brigit knocked gently on the door to her mother’s hotel room. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She was anticipating a brawl. Her mother would push some agenda, and she would need to fight back in order to survive.

One of her mother’s bodyguards opened the door. He bowed and waved her in with a sweeping gesture and a murmur of, “Your highness.”

“Darling!” Her mother’s perfume, a floral scent with undertones of tender-spring-love, filled Brigit’s nostrils. It brought an aching sense of memories from home, causing the young woman to blink back tears.

It would be easy to become sentimental, for Brigit hadn’t been home for some time. But a soft mindset was the worst to have when facing her parent. Elixia had a flamboyant and powerful personality that often swept away lesser beings.

“Mother, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Is it? I hope you speak true, dear daughter.”

They greeted each other with the traditional touch of palms. It showed trust, as well as that the other held no weapons.

“Where is my envoy?”

“If you mean Jib, mother, the púca is off having a pout.”

This got raised eyebrows from her mother but she kept her pleasant smile and asked, “I see you’ve brought a friend? Does the Black Dog have a name?”

“Not yet. I’m working on it.”

Brigit moved away, maneuvering so she was between her mother and the dog. She ignored her mother’s question and took in the luxurious surroundings.

Queen Elixia’s rooms were elegant with high ceilings, detailed crown molding, and an intricate wallpaper of birds and vines. Brigit thought she saw the hand of the chancellor in the design for the furniture—two chairs and the sofa were all from the period of Louis XIV. Monet’s Water Lilies hung on one wall.

The place held everything the queen admired and she had made herself at home. Silk robes, hand-painted scarves, and feathered hats were scattered everywhere. A group of shopping bags with the names of expensive labels were in the corner.

Across from where Brigit stood were a pair of double doors. These probably concealed the bedroom and private bath.

The bodyguard who had greeted Brigit was now in the kitchen. He started doing a routine test for poison in the food using a spoon made of unicorn horn. It would turn purple if it detected any dangerous substance. Considering the plethora of unicorn horn testers that fae royals liked to use, it was no wonder the beasts were no longer making their whereabouts known.

“Would you like a drink, my dear? Cricon makes a mean cocktail.”

Before Brigit could prevent herself, she asked bluntly, “Whatever are you doing here, mother?”

“I’ve been invited. Some at Leopold-Ottos-Universität Geheimetür know the importance of a queen.” Elixia sipped the drink handed to her by Cricon. Her kaleidoscope eyes with shades of pinks, blues, and oranges peered coyly over the glass rim at her daughter.

Before Brigit could demand a better answer from her mother, there was a knock at the door.

“Chancellor Bandemer and Mr. Darcy,” Cricon announced.

The queen’s hand was kissed. Hearing the French phrases of adoration given by the chancellor, Brigit rolled her eyes. Raised at a court of the Perilous Realm, she had heard enough outrageous butt-kissing lies to last multiple lifetimes.

Although, she reluctantly admitted, Bandemer’s spiel was very smooth. It was never so outrageous that his compliments couldn’t be accepted by a generous mind or denied by a suspicious one.

“My daughter, Brighid Holly.”

“I prefer Brigit Cullen. Besides, mother, the chancellor and Paul know me already. No need to introduce us.”

Brigit crossed her arms, showing them she wasn’t as welcoming as her parent. Flaunting court etiquette by not touching hands paradoxically showed that Brigit was of a rank to get away with such a breach.

“I hope you read the fine print on your invitation, mother,” Brigit warned her, giving Paul a dark look. “There seem to be rules in place you might not be aware of.”

“Look very closely with a candle,” Paul explained. “Some print was written with invisible ink. A proprietary blend of lemon juice and gargoyle urine.”

Her mother turned away from her guests, to give her daughter a scorching look. She silently mouthed the word “behave” before walking past Brigit to where trays of food were displayed on a side table.

With the graciousness of a queen, Elixia told her guests, “Please feel free to eat anything you wish. It’s been thoroughly checked by my staff.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” said Chancellor Bandemer, “but I cannot tarry. We have much planning and organizing to do. Other guests, of lower rank, to greet. But I wanted to be sure to welcome you to our little symposium. Dr. Stuart should be arriving in the morning. Darcy will arrange a private meeting for a personal consultation about your problem.”

“Your problem?” demanded Brigit of her mother.

“The Grove. Or have you forgotten why you ran away from home?” said the queen. “We may need new alliances to help the Elder.”

“So you’re finally taking it seriously?”

“I’ve always taken it seriously,” said her mother, the colors in her eyes swirling.

“Not that I could see,” muttered Brigit. To the chancellor, she asked, “Dr. Stuart? Are you talking about Dr. Sebastian Stuart?”

It was Paul who answered, “Yes.”

“What a lucky chance, but color me suspicious,” said Brigit, her eyes narrowing. “I wrote to him last year about this very problem. I never heard back from him but suddenly he appears here, along with my mother. How curious.”

“Exactly,” said the Chancellor, who had decided to take a glass of champagne from Cricon. “Dr. Stuart was specifically selected because of your interest in him, Mlle. Cullen.”

“But how did you know about—?” Before they could answer, Brigit slapped a hand against her thigh as the answer revealed itself to her. “Jib. That cat is such a blabbermouth.”

“It’s interesting you immediately believe the púca divulged the information,” noted Bandemer. “Why not the human, Logan Dannon?”

“Because Logan would never reveal a confidence. He knows when to keep his mouth shut, unlike a certain True Beast.” Brigit turned to her mother and asked her sharply. “Why isn’t father here? He should be, if you are making negotiations.”

“Don’t get your leaves falling,” said Queen Elixia to her daughter. “I will make no promises without due consultation. I’m simply meeting people who could do our folk good. And shopping.”

As a horrible thought crossed the queen’s features, she asked Bandemer in a panicked voice, “The schedule will allow time for more shopping, correct, chancellor? I would hate to have wasted my week in all talk!”

“Don’t drop your leaves, mother,” quipped Brigit nastily.

Bandemer soothed the queen’s panic, reassuring Elixia that the schedule allowed plenty of time for leisure activities.

“As long as you have an account set up with a local bank to act as surety, there will be no difficulty in buying your heart’s desire.”

Queen Elixia stiffened in displeasure at Bandemer’s words. “Of course, I have established funds at a human bank. I am not a country boggart falling off the tailgate of a farmer’s wagon.”

The queen set down her drink, picking up a fan. She jerked it open with a practiced flick of her wrist to furiously fan her flushed cheeks.

Bandemer said in a apologetic tone, “I beg pardon. It is just some fae think humans will still take fairy gold that turns to rotting leaves in the morning. Some of the attendees are experiencing Bewachterberg for the first time and their etiquette is outdated.”

“There will be no problem with our finances,” Queen Elixia said firmly. “I might not frequent the human lands often since that incident with the bard, but I know how to set up a bank account.”

As fast as a rabbit’s heartbeat, her fan transformed into a black credit card. Bandemer gave her a low bow of respect.

Paul changed the topic of conversation. “Your daughter has quite an interesting pet. I have never seen a harbinger in the role of a companion.”

“Logan and I found him last night. Some foul person dumped him into a trashcan. He barely survived.” said Brigit, claiming ownership. At her words, the dog’s brown eyes gazed at her worshipfully. She told Bandemer, “You might want to think carefully, chancellor, on how Geheimetür treats its fae population. The poor thing would be dead now if we hadn’t found him in time.”

Everyone stared at the dog. As if in response to their attention, it suddenly started to grow in size. Brown eyes turned to blue-ice chips. A gas-blue flame licked its black coat. In a vibrant, prophetic voice, the Black Dog spoke:

“The hound of death hunts a noble prize; When the glass turns, who falls, so others rise?”

In the stunned silence that followed, Brigit’s mother said, “That is why I’ve never allowed a dog at home. Between their stinky breath and the omens, one simply can’t have them about.”

At her words, the dog shrank in size, and the blue flames disappeared. Tucking his tail, he crawled under the French Provencal sofa, leaving only the tip of a tail showing.

“Mother!” cried Brigit. “You’ve hurt his feelings.”

“Dear, you can’t let sentiment influence you. No reasonable person keeps a harbinger. It’s simply not done.”

Bandemer said, “Do not be so harsh upon the Black Dog or your daughter, your majesty. At least, with the dog speaking its Bane, we have a fair warning of a future disaster.”

In a contemplative tone, the Doppelgänger repeated the Black Dog’s prophecy: “The hound of death hunts a noble prize; When the glass turns, who falls, so others rise?”

The queen nodded her head sharply, pointing at her daughter. “See! It is just as I said, the dog is hunting someone. Get rid of it, and the problem is solved.”

“It’s not as simple as that,” said Paul. “I do not think the dog is actually hunting. That would be a literal translation of the Bane and it is a well-known fact that fairy magic is tricky and never to be taken at face value. The Doom or Bane is not about itself. Thanks to your daughter, I recently had a long conversation with a banshee about this very thing.”

To forestall a discussion of her activities, Brigit quickly interjected. “But, I do think you are right in one way, mother. You should go home immediately. I’ll meet Dr. Stuart and report back to you and father about what he advises.”

“You are not my envoy, Brigit, but my daughter. I shall do as I please. And I do not please to go home just yet.”

Bandemer was stroking the edge of his jaw with the back of his forefinger’s fingernail, indicating a thoughtful mood. “You all have assumed that the prophecy means Queen Elixia. That may seem logical, as a Black Dog’s Bane is given to the person who it concerns, but there are others here that could be the target of his prophecy.”

“I’m a nobody, so I doubt I can fall from any height,” pointed out Brigit.

“But I am not a — as you put it — a nobody,” said Chancellor Bandemer. He grimaced distastefully as he flipped back the lace of his cuffs. “This Doom could describe an incident meant for me.”

“That’s true!” exclaimed Elixia. She picked up a small round canapé made of puff pastry called a vol-au-vent. Stuffed with a blend of goat’s cheese and herbs, its taste was delightful. She popped it into her mouth, happy to know someone else could be Doomed.

“The chancellor is correct,” said Paul. “The Black Dog spoke after we entered the suite. Its Bane could be addressed to the chancellor, the queen, or even myself.”