The Treachery of Beautiful Things (22 page)

The song was everywhere, in his ears, in his mind, in the water that played against his body. A woman surfaced before him, her heart-shaped face pale as porcelain, shimmering with a touch of silver like scales on a minnow. Blue eyes gazed at him, liquid with desire and need, her pupils wide. Her mouth parted, revealing a flash of white teeth, and her song grew louder. Under the water, another circled him, her hands unfastening the baldric, uncurling his fingers where he held the sword. Their song was wound about with secrets and enchantments. Even knowing that, Jack wilted beneath the onslaught, his body betraying him. A traitor to the last. As the first laid her frozen lips on his, their grip on him tightened to silver bands, drawing him under the surface of the river. Wayland’s great sword slipped from his loosened fingers.

The cold shock of the water drove breath from him and brought a frightening moment of clarity. The Blade of the Fool…He knew it now, as the water closed over him and the river sisters drew him down.
He
was the fool. Wayland had called him as much, had given him the Jester’s sword as if to prove it. It glinted several feet below him, sticking out
of the black, consuming mud. Mud that would suck a man down and trap him forever.

The second sister pushed herself between him and the first, her kisses even more savage. His breath felt caught, stolen. His energy drained and diminished. Her hands traced lines across his bare skin. She pulled at his leaf shirt to get beneath it, murmuring a song of sweet seduction, saw the bright glint of gold around his neck and her eyes widened. A new fascination entered them. She smiled, her full lips parting to reveal small, sharp white teeth, and her grip closed on the chain, ready to rip it from his throat.

Jack’s hand came up, forcing its way through the water, closing on her wrist and wrenching her away. Her shock fragmented the spell. He flipped over, diving straight for the sword before their song could engulf him again.

The play of seduction dissolved with his escape. He was their prey, in their element, and he had gold. They circled him like predatory eels, their long bodies brushing against him, trying to disorient him and knock him away from the weapon.

His fingers closed on the sword hilt, closed into a fist, and he pulled.

Mimung stuck fast, lodged in the clinging mud. He heard laughter and the Nixies stopped their circling. They hung before him, beautiful and terrible, waiting for him to move. He would need air. The moment he broke for the surface,
they would be on him. He could see the intention in their flawless faces. He tugged at the sword, but it stayed where it was, wedged in the riverbed. Panic rose in his throat like bile.

Please. You have to come out.

His lungs ached, his eyes burned as he glanced for the surface. He needed air. He didn’t belong down here. His muscles strained, tearing, the water leeching his strength from him. Closing his eyes, he placed both hands on the sword hilt again.

By oak and holly,
he prayed,
by ash and thorn, you’re earth, no matter how the water holds you down. Help me.

The sword jerked free. The Nixies gave twin cries of rage and flung themselves at him, but the blade was still moving. His muscles strained to control it, fighting the water even as he fought its creatures. The Nixies rushed toward him, teeth and claws bared. Mimung, who had fought and destroyed water spirits many times before, arched toward them. The impact shuddered up his arm. The blade swept through them, leaving a long line of blood in the depths, billowing out and dispersing like ink. The Nixies shrieked, the steel destroying them. Dragging the sword back against his body, Jack pushed skyward with all his strength, forcing himself toward light and air.

He broke the surface, his mouth distended, the sword still gripped in his hand. Blood burst around him, a huge bubble that polluted the clear water, churned up by the
crashing waterfall. Jack heaved another breath and held the sword close, treading water desperately as he fought to keep from vomiting. When he could bring himself to dive again, the Nix’s sisters were gone.

He surfaced and breathed. Breath was all he could cling to. His breath…and the sword. The waterfall thundered down, agitating the water around him. The Nix was down there somewhere. Had to be. He was down there. And so was Jenny.

Jack took a series of rapid breaths, filling his lungs nearly to the point of bursting, and dived under the waterfall, letting the force of its descent drive him down to the lair of the Nix. Amid tangled weeds and misshapen stones, he felt his way, the sword icy cold in his hand. Through the gloom he saw a flash of light, golden, as bright as newly restored hope. He caught it for only a moment before his lungs betrayed him and he was forced back to the surface for air. Treading water, breathing calmly, he tried to fix the light’s location in his mind. Then he dived back into the depths.

The light was gone, but he pushed himself toward its last location. The unfamiliar weight in his hand dragged him down, but at the same time the necklace tugged him forward, as if Jenny’s golden heart guided him to her. He allowed it to lead him, following the pull until he saw the riverbed. A line of jagged rocks ran across the base of the waterfall, and overhead, the surface boiled.

His strength was failing. Out of the sun, away from the earth, out of his element, he couldn’t keep going. But he had to.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected. Though the tales of the Nix had spoken of a stately hall and cages of gold, Jack had thought it a fancy. But under the water, his eyes adjusted. He felt the subtle shift of a magical charge and before him, the riverbed fell away, dropping down to reveal polished marble, columns and terraces. A palace spread out before him, shimmering in the water like mother-of-pearl. There were no roofs, no need for them here under the water, and mosaic floors and decorated walls spread out like intricate ruins that had never decayed. He dived deeper, passing beneath row after row of ornate arches, past faded frescos and into the largest chamber of all. Gold and precious stones decorated the walls and floor, each one glinting in the shifting light from high overhead. He glanced up. It was so very far to daylight, to air, to safety.

Standing on a plinth that had once been a jagged rock but had been polished by water and smoothed by magic-wielding hands, stood a small and intricately crafted cage made of gold. It was the type of thing in which a queen might keep a songbird, but inside it he saw something like a will-o’-the-wisp, a single point of flickering light. It was the only light down here that wasn’t reflected from above.

Jenny.

He grabbed the cage, tearing the door open. The light shied back from him, colliding with the far side of the cage, desperate to avoid his touch. He drew back, willing her with his eyes alone to understand him, to seize her freedom. She darted clear of the cage, circling him like a frenzied firefly. She was lost, bewildered and terrified.

Did she even know or recognize him? Could she in that state? She was so small, so fragile. She’d be furious to be seen as such, he knew that. She’d stick out her chin, ball up her fists, and raise herself straighter. Then do everything in her power to prove him wrong. The thought of it almost made him smile. He wanted to reach out, to gather her to him, but she was light, dancing through his fingertips.

A roar shook the pool, the concussion throwing him back. The water twisted in a maelstrom and her soul-light was torn aside. A wave of hatred tossed Jack back toward the surface and he managed one brief, desperate lungful of air before the Nix closed hands around his throat and dragged him back under again.

Had he been on land, Jack would have had no fear of this creature. He was a guardian, a warrior by nature, created to fight. But this was not his element. He needed earth and air. More than that, he needed sunlight, and beneath the surface of the river the sun diffused to a pale and distant glow. The Nix moved sleekly through the water, formed from it,
a part of it, while he, ungainly and flailing, was forced to fight it as a second enemy.

Jack’s back slammed against the side of a boulder. The remaining air exploded from his lungs in a chaos of bubbles. Black spots danced before his eyes. He saw the Nix snarl, revealing a row of savage teeth, and close in for the kill.

Golden radiance exploded before his face—Jenny’s will-o’-the-wisp. She darted toward the Nix and he lunged for her, his prey forgotten for his prize. His grasping hands were claws around her, but at the last minute, she darted between his fingers, distracting him and leading him away. Jack broke for the surface and sweet air filled his lungs.

But precious little light.

He emerged in a cave behind the waterfall. The sound was deafening. The air hung with moisture. There was barely enough light to see at all as he hauled himself onto a wet ledge, gasping for air. It felt like someone was levering his ribs apart with each breath.

The sword clattered from his hand, and even as he clawed after it, he didn’t have the strength to lift it anymore. Desolation drained his hope away. Moisture plastered his hair in strands over his face.

Wayland had been right. Water would be his death.

Light swelled in the river behind the falls. He gazed at it, a fire rising from the depths, like the sun he so desperately needed to feel on his face once more. Lying on his back, he
saw Jenny’s light break the surface of the water. It darted toward him and then to the sword. He tried to sit up. He could barely breathe. It was like he was still there, at the bottom of the vast river with the full weight of water pressing down on his chest.

“I can’t, Jenny Wren,” he told her, his body failing him. Failing her. She buzzed around his face angrily, a little glowing wasp of rage. It was Jenny all right. No doubt about that. He tried to shift his weight, to get leverage from his arms. Useless. He closed his eyes. Felt a coldness spread through him. Too late. The water had stolen whatever life was left in him. He was fading. Without the sun, without the earth, he was nothing.

He opened his mouth to tell her that his strength was gone, then opened his eyes to see her flying straight at him. Before he knew what was happening, she shot into his mouth and his body swallowed reflexively.

Her voice exploded into his conscious mind.

“Get up! He’s coming to kill you!”

The Nix erupted from the water, his mouth distended in a roar. Inside Jack’s head, Jenny screamed garbled instructions as the water demon bore down on them. Like a wave, the Nix seemed to hang there, just for a second, before crashing down against the rocks.

“Move!”
Jenny yelled, and Jack could do nothing but obey her.

He rolled over the icy stone. The Nix’s claws slashed toward him. Jenny’s light flared in his chest, warm and brilliant as a star, right beneath the point where her locket rested against his chest. She was like the sun, the thing he needed, like the earth beneath his feet. She was breath and strength, everything.

She was his May Queen.

Jack came to his feet, snatching up the Jester’s sword as he did so. It filled his grasp, its song flowing through him, loud and new, and Jenny gave a shout of joy. His stance slid, the ground treacherous with water beneath him. But earth surrounded him, earth and rock and mineral. He felt the steel blade hum with expectation and tightened his grip. He was a creature of the earth. The sword was a thing born in fire. Water was the enemy of both.

He had to trust the sword. To know it and let it be what it was.

The Nix faltered for a moment and a slow smile spread over Jack’s face.

“Jack?”
Jenny whispered nervously when he didn’t move.
“What are you—”

The Nix lunged forward, intent only on carrying Jack back into the water, where he would be strong and the guardian would drown. Jack twisted before his assault and brought Wayland’s sword up to greet him.

Like earth, like rock and steel, unmoving, rooted deep.
Jack reached for both earth and sword and linked the two with his body. Earth and weapon, and the warrior between.

The Nix tried to stop his rush forward, his eyes flaring at the sight of the blade. But nothing could stop the oncoming flood, nor move the earth itself. The Nix crashed onto the Jester’s sword, its full length passing through him.

The creature shuddered, his blue eyes wide and liquid. He slid up the blade, toward Jack, reaching out with lethally sharp talons where his fingernails had been. Then his form lost cohesion. Jack watched the blood melt away into the river, and like his sisters, the Nix was gone.

The spell of strength snapped.

He sank to his knees, cradling the sword. Every part of him was wrung out, broken. He needed to sleep, for just a while. He laid his head down. The world went black behind his closed lids, then crimson. His eyes snapped open.

Gold-red light warmed his face. Sunset filtering through the curtain of water. Something stirred deep inside him, something ancient, scrabbling to get out.

Oh Elders. He had to get her back to her own body—
now
.

“Jack? Can you still hear me?”

Sunset…And then night…Greedy fingers of exhaustion worked their way through him, as insidious as the icy water and the cold of the stone burrowing in from outside. Jenny was with him, her presence a bright spark in his mind.
But if he didn’t move now, if he gave in to the great silence, she’d know him for what he truly was.

And then?

Puck was right. Wayland too. Even now, she’d never understand.

He forced himself up, heard her sigh of relief. She thought the Realm a place of monsters. And he could hardly blame her for that. Sometimes he believed the same himself.

“We haven’t much time,” he wheezed, praying that she couldn’t see his thoughts.

“But he’s dead, isn’t he?”
Fear sharpened her voice to a point.

Her innocence glowed within him, cleansing him by virtue simply of touching him. For the first time, he could understand why those with souls were so highly prized by all of Faerie. Why she fascinated him, why Titania feared her, why Oberon wanted her…The knowledge chilled him. He didn’t want to understand how Oberon thought.