Still Not Dead Enough , Book 2 of The Dead Among Us (17 page)

Paul stopped beside her and looked about. “More importantly, where are we?”

They now stood on a game trail in a dark forest of twisted and stunted trees. And, along with the leprechauns, the little thatched huts and the verdant countryside were gone.

A crow cawed, a sharp cry that startled them both. They looked up and spotted the bird standing on a branch above them. The crow stepped off the branch and dropped toward them, but just before hitting the ground it shimmered and morphed into an old crone wearing a long, hooded cloak and hunched over a walking cane. She had a twisted nose with warts and moles all over her face, and what few teeth remained in her mouth were crooked and brown. Cataracts clouded her left eye, and her right drooped with some sort of palsy.

She cackled and laughed maniacally. “Come to see the hag, have you, children?”

She walked toward them slowly, leaning heavily on the cane, but between one step and the next she became a beautiful young maiden in a shimmering gown. She smiled at them and spoke in a lovely voice, “The wizard and the witch, I see. It’s confusing, is it not?”

And in the next step she turned into a naked, skeletal corpse, ribs protruding visibly, dried up old breasts withered to nothing, gobbets of rotted flesh hanging from her face, maggots filling her eyes and mouth.

Katherine closed her eyes and looked away, but Paul stood entranced. “Are you the
triple goddess
?”

“Maeotar,” the corpse hissed, her voice a barely audible hiss. She shifted again to the crone, then the beautiful maiden, then the corpse. The corpse said, “A test for you, mortal . . .”

Somewhere, in the kaleidoscope of images that assaulted him, Paul lost consciousness.

~~~

“Wake up, yee daft fool.”

Paul opened his eyes to find Jim’Jiminie standing over him. He sat up, saw Boo’Diddle shaking Katherine awake. “Come on, me girl.”

They were back in the green countryside with no sign of the dark forest and the crazy old—young—woman—corpse.

As Paul staggered to his feet Jim’Jiminie scrambled up a small hill carpeted in purple grass, put his hands on his hips and surveyed the countryside. They were in a copse of blue trees and purple grass, with a reddish sky. Paul helped Katherine to her feet, but her high-heels immediately sank into the soft soil and as she teetered backwards he caught her around the waist to keep her from falling. Leaning heavily on him she pulled her shoes off one-by-one and held them up to Paul. “These things cost me a fortune. I’m not giving them up.”

She called up to Jim’Jiminie. “Where are we?”

He scrambled off the hillock. “We’re far from the Courts here, me girl. Far in distance and time, but mostly far in dimensions your pretty little head’ll never understand.”

“What do we do now?” Paul asked.

“We walk, and if I’m right, we’ll soon be findin’ yer way back fer ya.”

Paul couldn’t believe what he heard. “
If you’re right
? You brought us here and you’re not sure you’re right.”

“Listen, laddie boy, if you’d be paying more attention to your surroundings instead of staring at the lass’s behind all the time, you’d run into a lot less trouble. So don’t begrudge me the fact we have to be playin’ this tune by ear.”

Katherine’s eyes narrowed speculatively. “He kept checking out my ass, huh?”

“Sure, lass, he couldn’t keep his eyes off it.”

“Enough of this,” Paul snapped. Time to change the subject. “Let’s get moving. Which way do we go?”

“Just be followin’ me.” Jim’Jiminie scrambled back up the small hill. Katherine grinned evilly at Paul, turned, followed the little man up the hill, a little extra sashay in her hips, a little extra sway, a little extra wiggle. Paul shrugged. At least being last in line meant he had a great view.

~~~

Anogh bowed before Ag. “Your Majesty, you summoned me?”

Ag was so agitated he had even abandoned fondling his favorite concubine. “He has entered Faerie. The young mage. Call out the hunt. Find him. Bring him to me. Now.”

“As Your Majesty wishes.” Anogh bowed deeply and backed out of the king’s presence.

Chapter 12: Delivery Complete

The countryside of Faerie was the strangest thing Paul had ever seen. The sky shifted color almost hourly, sometimes reddish, sometimes bluish, sometimes greenish. The leprechaun picked an odd-looking black fruit from a tree with shiny, chartreuse leaves, slurped on it as he walked. Grass was sometimes green, sometimes purple, sometimes brown or gray.

Jim’Jiminie told them he wanted to get them to a place where ley lines intersected, producing a simpler connection between the two Realms. He could get them back into the Mortal Plane much easier that way, but it would be a walk of a few hours. “Though I do be takin’ this walk with the most uneasy of feelings. Why the Morrigan put you here I cannot fathom.”

Paul said, “She said something about a test.”

Jim’Jiminie stopped, looked back at him and frowned worriedly. But he said nothing, turned and continued walking.

Katherine appeared to be enjoying herself thoroughly, stopping to examine every strange plant, then running to catch up. At one point a group of pixies attached themselves to Paul, little people-shaped creatures about finger high with tiny wings. They circled his head for a few minutes, chittering and chattering in little voices that sounded more like tinkling bells.

“They’re drawn to your power,” Jim’Jiminie said. “And that bothers me, because if they can sense you, so can others. And Ag and Magreth have their ears tuned to all aspects of Faerie.”

They walked for another hour, and in that time Jim’Jiminie grew more skittish and uncomfortable, muttering things like, “I’ve got a bad feelin’ about this. Tis not good. Tis not good.”

He finally led them into the edge of a forest of surprisingly ordinary looking trees. Their shape was odd, branches twisting toward the sky in an incredible tangle, but at least they had brown trunks and green leaves. Jim’Jiminie had them crouch down behind a thatch of brush. “There’s something,” he said. “I know it.”

“What?” Paul asked.

Far in the distance they heard the bay of a hound, an eerie, high-pitched cry that must have carried for miles. Others of its kind answered it.

“That,” Jim’Jiminie said. “The Unseelie Host. They’ve called out the hounds. Run. We must run.” The little fellow turned and sprinted deeper into the forest.

Paul and Katherine followed, but Katherine’s tight skirt didn’t lend itself to running so she tried to hike it up to her waist. But she was also hampered by running in her stocking feet and stumbled and fell repeatedly. Finally she stopped grabbed the bottom of her skirt with both hands and yanked, tearing it up to her waistline. “Now I can run.”

They ran for several minutes, though every minute the hounds drew closer. Katherine, forced to run in her stocking feet, stumbled several times, once cursing like a stevedore. Jim’Jiminie halted suddenly, and all three of them stood there for a moment gasping for air. Paul’s throat and lungs burned like the worst of bad colds.

“We’re in Non-aligned Faerie here, ruled by neither Court, protected by none.” He pointed ahead of them. “Not far from here is a stream. The ley lines we need are just beyond that.”

They ran on, but they now heard the shouts and cries of the host following them, as well as the baying of the hounds. They left the forest behind, crossed carefully tilled and farmed open land. The burn in Paul’s lungs grew even worse and he slowed down as he reached the end of his strength, saw that Katherine was doing no better. Up ahead he saw a jagged line of a depression in the countryside that must be the stream Jim’Jiminie had spoken of. They weren’t running any longer, just staggering along at little better than a fast walk, unable to fill their burning lungs with the needed air.

Paul looked back as the Unseelie Host burst from the forest behind them. Tall warriors in rainbow colored armor rode steeds whose hooves appeared to never actually touch the ground, and they were led by large, black hounds with glowing red eyes. He ran on with renewed strength, caught up to Katherine, who now ran with a limp and slowed a little with each step. He grabbed her from behind and lifted her into his arms.

“Put me down she shouted. I can run.” He ignored her because, even carrying her, he kept a better pace than she had.

He staggered up to the stream, put her down at its edge. It wasn’t more than knee deep, though for Jim’Jiminie that might be a problem, so Paul picked him up and carried him as he sloshed through the water, Katherine right behind him. Paul dropped to his knees on the opposite bank, his lungs a searing fire in his chest, wheezing as he tried to pull in enough air. Katherine dropped to her hands and knees beside him. “We made it,” she said, each sentence punctuated by a gasping breath.

Paul stood and looked back. The Unseelie Host had halted not a hundred paces distant, and with those amazing steeds as their mounts they could cross that in a heartbeat. Their leader, wearing some sort of colorful armor with a winged helm, reared his horse before them, as if to signal a charge. But then the cry of a hunting hawk broke the silence of the moment, and everyone looked up.

“Oh, dear mother!” Boo’Diddle said. “Tis the
black
.”

~~~

Anogh really didn’t want to catch the poor mortal fool, didn’t want to turn him over to Ag. But with a host of Unseelie warriors behind him, he had no choice. His mount reared beneath him, and he hesitated, wondering how he could delay the inevitable. And then he heard the unique cry of the hawk, a sound no fey would fail to recognize.

He looked up to the skies, as did the warriors behind him, and saw a black speck circling slowly and dropping toward them on massive wings, growing in size and proportion with each circle of its descent. This was not a visitation he could ignore.

Suddenly the hawk cried out angrily, then furled its wings and plunged toward him, its talons extended. Anogh stood his ground, knowing she dare not attack him if he gave her no cause. And as he expected, at the last instant she flared her wings, pulled up a few feet off the ground, and transformed into a tall humanoid shape obscured by shadows that fluttered about her maddeningly, a strung longbow in her left hand and a shadowy broadsword in her right.

She stood there silently, so Anogh waited, but one of the warriors behind him had far less patience and shouted, “What do you want?”

She opened her mouth, but hesitated, and when she did speak her voice hissed through Anogh’s heart like the death rattle of a cold wind. “You may not interfere with my contract.”

“Contract?” Anogh asked softly. “I am not aware of a contract with the
black
.”

“No,” that cold wind hissed, “you are not. But nevertheless your king made contract with me, and if you proceed, that contract is null and void.”

Anogh considered her carefully. She could not lie about such a thing, though she could dissemble, help him to mislead himself. But she had spoken too plainly for that, so he nodded his agreement and said, “Very well. We will stand down.”

The shadowy woman stared at him for a long moment, then slowly sheathed her sword and turned her back on him to look at their prey. She reached up over her shoulder to the fletching of several arrows extending from a quiver strapped to her back. She drew an arrow with blood-red fletching and a coal-black shaft, and even Anogh looked away from that.

~~~

“Oh sweet mother of me clan, no, no, no,” Jim’Jiminie cried.

Katherine asked, “What’s wrong?”

Boo’Diddle dropped to his knees and buried his face in his hands. “Tis the
black fey
.” He looked up at Paul. “One of you is doomed, and I doubt they’d seek the death of the Old Wizard’s daughter.”

“Doomed,” Katherine shouted. “Why doomed. We’ll run, we’ll fight.”

Jim’Jiminie shook his head sadly. “No mortal has ever escaped
les flèche du coeur
, the heart arrow.”

Paul looked toward the Unseelie Host. He’d immediately recognized the hawk and the strange giant of a woman bathed in shadows. And as he looked on she carefully nocked an arrow, then paused and looked at him, and he struggled to remember her words in the graveyard in Texas. They’d been almost identical to Jim’Jiminie’s just now. But there’d been some subtle difference he couldn’t recall, something about being “. . . truly mortal . . .”

The strange, shadowed woman threw her head back, looked to the heavens and shrieked out the sharp, piercing cry of a hunting hawk. Then she raised the bow, drew the string and fired.

Paul expected to see the arrow streak away from her in an arc, hoping he could watch it carefully and dodge to one side as it descended. But at the snap of the bow string the arrow shot forth only a few paces, then slowed and hovered just a few feet off the ground, moving toward them at a pace no faster than a walk.

“We’re not doing this,” Katherine shouted. She turned on the two leprechauns. “Get us out of here—now.”

Both little men stood transfixed by the sight of the arrow. Jim’Jiminie said, “That shaft will seek its prey in any Realm, in all Realms. It has a primitive life of its own, and Sabreatha has given it the scent of his heart, so it will not stop until it has tasted his blood.”

“No!” Katherine screamed. “We’re not playing this game anymore.”

“You’ve no choice, lass,” Boo’Diddle shouted.

While Katherine and the little fellows had a shouting match, Paul watched the arrow carefully. It slowly drifted to within about fifty paces, then turned aside and circled them, stalking them.

Paul resolved that neither he nor Katherine would die this day without one hell of a fight. He’d come to understand it would take years to master this magic stuff. But while he didn’t understand all the rules and requirements and formulas, he at least had the ability to pull a lot of power. So if he couldn’t cast some carefully crafted spell, he’d try throwing a whole shit-load of power at it.

Paul pulled on all the power around him, and in Faerie there was apparently plenty to pull. It permeated everything and filled his soul. He felt little motes of it dancing up and down his arms, tickling the hairs there. He’d been warned he could burn himself out if he drew too much, go up like a roman candle, but at that moment he had nothing to lose. He sensed the ley line not too far away and he pulled on that too, and it almost overwhelmed him.

“Paul,” Katherine said, her voice almost a whisper. “What are you doing?”

The arrow had circled around behind them and continued to circle. He didn’t take his eyes off it as he said, “If I have to go out, it’s going to be with a bang.”

Jim’Jiminie said, “You’re a scary one, boy-oh.”

The arrow continued to circle, but closer now, and he saw the pattern. With each circle it came just a few paces closer, as if waiting for a chance to dart in without warning and punch its way through his chest. It was only about ten paces distant when he said, “Katherine, Boo’Diddle, Jim’Jiminie, get down low and hug the ground.”

He didn’t look away from the arrow to see if they obeyed. It was close enough to see the details of its blood-red fletching and coal-black shaft, and he thought he could distinguish something written on the shaft, some sort of runes.

It didn’t dart in toward him, but turned slowly, and deliberately advanced toward his chest, slowing as it approached him, slowing to an agonizing crawl. It had advanced to within a few feet of his chest, coming for him an inch at a time, when he reached out and put his right hand around the shaft.

He tried to push is aside, but it wouldn’t budge, and it advanced another inch. He tried to step aside and hold it to its path, but it turned with him. It was only about a hand’s width from his chest when Katherine jumped to her feet and wrapped her hands about it. She screamed wildly, “No you don’t, you fucking bitch.”

She tried to push it to the side; they both did, she screaming maniacally while he grunted with the effort. They ended up slowly dancing in a small circle as the arrow inched toward his chest. At the last instant, just as it cut into the skin of his chest, Katherine screamed and released a flood of power. He took that as his queue and released his into the shaft of the arrow, and it nudged to one side slightly, only an inch. He turned, angled his chest to one side while Katherine angled the arrow the other way. Then the arrow punched its way slowly into his chest, inch by agonizing inch.

He screamed. Katherine screamed with him. The leprechauns screamed with them.

~~~

“Paul, Paul, please don’t die.” That was Katherine.

Paul opened his eyes. He lay on his back on the grass in a small clearing, most of his shirt ripped away, and what remained was soaked in blood. It hurt to move, hurt even to breathe. Katherine tore away more of his shirt, working frantically and mumbling to herself. “I haven’t done any internal medicine since I was an intern.”

Paul asked, “Am I still alive?”

Katherine snarled at him. “Of course you’re alive. You’re talking to me aren’t you?”

Jim’Jiminie leaned into his field of view. “You survived a heart arrow, boy-oh.” There was awe in his voice.

Boo’Diddle added, “He ain’t survived it yet.”

Katherine growled, “Help me roll him. I need to check the exit wound.”

The two leprechauns helped her roll Paul onto his side. Katherine tore away more of his shirt, probed at his back. “Owe,” he hissed. “That hurts.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Katherine said, her voice calmer. She eased him onto his back and held the black arrow up to examine it. “We got it angled enough I don’t think it got any vital organs, just meat and bone. And the wounds aren’t pulsing, so probably no major arteries.”

Every breath sent a white hot lance of pain through Paul’s chest. “You mean . . . it’s not . . . bad?”

Her eyes flashed angrily. “You’ve got a fucking whole in your chest. Of course it’s bad.” She calmed a little. “But not that bad. We need to get you to a hospital right away.”

She and the two leprechauns got him to his feet, helped him stagger to a level spot where the leprechauns had made a bed of leaves. He was too weak to even sit, so Katherine helped him lay down on his side, and when he started to shiver she lay down next to him to keep him warm. “Jim’Jiminie’s going for help,” she said. “He thinks we’re close enough to the ley line he might be able to twist it and get us back.”

She pressed herself tightly against him. “You’re going into shock. I need to keep you warm.”

“Excuses, excuses!” he said weakly. “You just want to get close to me.” He had the oddest thoughts lying there with her breasts pressed tightly against him. Her blouse had been torn badly, and he had a solid view of a sexy, lacy, black bra.

She giggled. “You’re looking at my boobs again, Conklin.”

He looked away. “Ah, sorry.”

She asked, “Was Jim’Jiminie telling the truth?”

“What?”

“That you were checking out my ass.”

“I’m not telling.”

She giggled again, and they just lay there. Paul drifted off into a place half way between consciousness and unconsciousness. Exhaustion weighed on him heavily, but the pain drummed at him constantly and he found breathing difficult. At some point Katherine drifted off to sleep, their arms still wrapped about each other.
What the hell
, he thought, and focused on her cleavage and the black, lacy bra.

Then a tall, distinguished, black man walked casually into the copse of trees, and his skin was truly black, charcoal black. The fellow wore an expensive looking business suit like one might see on the streets of any large city, which was clearly out of place in Faerie. He squatted down in front of Paul. “You don’t look well, Paul.”

The man’s voice sounded oddly familiar. It was a struggle to speak. “Have we . . . met before? Dayandalous, right? You like to play games.”

“Very good, Paul. You may be able to get out of this after all. I’ll give you a hint. Think about how you got here. Think with your magical senses about how it felt.”

Paul wanted to tell the fellow he didn’t have the strength to think any coherent thoughts. He closed his eyes for a moment to gather the energy to tell him, but when he opened them the man had gone, though something large passed overhead and he thought he heard the hiss of massive wings slicing through the air. Definitely a hallucination!

For some reason Paul began thinking about the strange twisting of space that had brought them there, the way it had followed a kind of spiral path through reality. It was a unique feeling and he remembered it well, thought he might even repeat it if he wanted to, perhaps even reverse it. He just needed to remember it. It didn’t even require the summoning or use of power, no more than recognizing which door to open and walk through. Yes, if he hadn’t been half-delirious he was almost certain he could repeat it, reverse it. Almost certain . . . Almost certain . . .

~~~

Walter McGowan poured a couple fingers of whiskey, sat down in his favorite chair in his office. It was an old wing-back chair, a bit worn here and there, but still infinitely comfortable. It had been a long day.

He was in mid sip when Paul and Katherine, both a muddy, bloody mess, materialized near the ceiling about five feet above his desk, crashed into it with a horrible thud and a scattering of papers and books. “Holy shit,” McGowan shouted as he jumped to his feet, his heart threatening to pound its way out of his chest.

Katherine groaned, rolled over and fell to the floor in front of his desk. Paul groaned and rolled the other way, fell out of sight behind his desk and crashed into his chair with a grunt and a muffled curse.

McGowan rushed to Katherine, helped her stagger to her feet. She was a complete mess, clothes torn, blood and mud all over her. “Are you hurt?” he asked desperately.

“No, no, it’s Paul’s blood. He’s badly hurt.”

“Colleen,” McGowan shouted at the top of his lungs, pushed power into the word, knew she’d hear him no matter where she was in the house

Katherine frantically pulled McGowan around the desk to Paul, who lay there only partly conscious. “We need a doctor,” Katherine pleaded.

Colleen burst into the room. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Look at you, child.”

Katherine grimaced. “I’m okay, a few scratches and bruises, but nothing serious. Paul’s been shot in the chest by an arrow.” She held up a black shafted arrow with red fletching. “Some sort of
black fey
thing.” She looked around, her eyes wide with surprise. “Jim’Jiminie must have come back with help.”

Colleen growled, “Let me at the lad.” She elbowed the old man aside, pushed the toppled chair to one side and bent over Paul, examining him carefully.

He groaned, and his eyes cleared. He tried to reach something behind his back, gasped in pain and couldn’t do it. Colleen demanded “What is it?” She reached behind him, tugged at something, lifted up a pair of muddy and torn high-heel shoes.

Paul looked at Katherine. “I didn’t forget them.”

Katherine threw her head back and laughed, and the old man wondered if she’d gone hysterical. Instead she took the shoes from Colleen, leaned down over Paul and kissed the boy, practically shoved her tongue down his throat, the kind of lip-lock fathers didn’t like to see daughters doing, the little slut. And there was no doubt the kid enjoyed it too, the little shit.

Chapter 13: A Bargain Fulfilled

Cadilus opened the door to Magreth’s private sitting room, approached her and bowed deeply, touching one knee to the floor.

“Please rise. You have news of this mortal mage?” Magreth demanded.

Cadilus stood. “Yes, Your Majesty. Apparently, Sabreatha pierced his soul with
les flèche du coeur
.”

She started and the flames appeared in her eyes. “It is done then. He is dead.”

“I assume so, but I have yet to confirm it.”

“Of course he’s dead. No one survives
les flèche du coeur
.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. No one survives that.”

She frowned with uncertainty. “Get it confirmed. Immediately.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Cadilus bowed deeply and backed out of the room.

~~~

Anogh dropped to one knee before the Winter King.

“Rise,” Ag said, “and tell me of your success in capturing the young, mortal mage.”

“I did not capture him, Your Majesty. I was intercepted.”

Frost settled on Anogh’s shoulders and in his hair. “You were intercepted?”

Simuth grinned, anticipating Ag’s anger, hoping to see Anogh punished in Ag’s typical brutal fashion.

“Sabreatha,” Anogh said, and both Ag and Simuth started. “She claimed right of contract, and delivered
les flèche du coeur
.”