Under Cover of Darkness (24 page)

Jack raised his arm and muttered something, and Ice fell as if a bus had struck her. The brothers closed in. It happened so quickly that I witnessed the final seconds of her life. At the same time, Leader and Extreme Phil circled one another. The Slaugh was apparently wary of the nunchucks and he weaved when my coworker pressed him. It was like watching a bizarre dance. The whole evening was taking on a dreamlike quality where I was the dreamer.

Another figure emerged from the shadows and leaped at Hunger with a hearty battle cry and sufficient force to knock him to the ground. There was a long sword, and I thought I recognized the robe and fuzzy slippers.

Hunger recovered and swatted the elderly lady aside. I was startled into action. He'd hurt Mrs. Wu, a woman who tried to make her tiny piece of the city a better place. I was determined that nothing would happen to her. Undaunted by his claws this time, I charged, fists ready, screaming as loud and as long as I could manage.

The creature shuddered and wailed. He dropped to his knees, hugging himself as if to contain something, and then promptly exploded. I was too close. I stopped abruptly and had the sense to turn and duck so the back of my jacket took the brunt of whatever hit me. Too stunned to wonder if I could throw up again, I stood facing the partially insulated town house, not wanting to look. The jacket wasn't getting washed; burning was in order.

“Gross,” Extreme Phil stated eloquently from somewhere behind me.

Leader stepped into my line of sight.

“
You
,” he said softly. It sounded like such a cliché that I could feel my lips twitch into a smile at the absurdity of it all. “All along, it was
you
.”

I had no idea what he was talking about. “Whatever,” I muttered.

With a scream, he lunged. I couldn't move. I was seven years old again and the living nightmare loomed before me. Then Jack was there and the curved blade took Leader's head from his shoulders. The body slumped and landed at my feet. I stumbled away from the corpse. The back of my knees hit a stack of pavers and I sat abruptly.

I hated crying. It wasn't a bad thing, just I felt like a little girl when I did. I had taught myself not to cry in front of strangers at a very early age.

I put my hands over my face and cried.

I became aware of someone beside me and didn't bother trying to wipe my eyes before looking at them. The night had been long and hard and terrifying—and I was capable of killing with astonishing effect.
Does this mean . . . I'm not human?
The thought left me dreading an answer. I sniffed.
Well, I am what I am, and if someone doesn't like it, that's too damn bad.

Mrs. Wu regarded me cautiously. “Nat? You okay?”

She waited calmly in her pink bathrobe, a bruise already forming on the left side of her face. I was surprised to see one of her grandchildren standing beside her. Neither of them seemed to be afraid of me. Relieved, I grabbed Mrs. Wu, hugged her tightly, and cried even harder. She wrapped an arm around me and stroked my hair. It was almost as if my grandmother was there.

Behind her, Jack and the brothers were placing the corpses in a pile. I finally pulled away and wiped my eyes with the edge of my T-shirt. When I stood, my knees felt like jelly—but I was alive. That was something to celebrate. I clasped Mrs. Wu's hand, and together we joined the others. I started with Jack as he seemed to be the one in charge.

“First off, I want to thank you for coming to my rescue.”

He blinked. “Anytime.”

“Now, who are you?”

“I'm your guardian angel,” he stated somberly.

Extreme Phil made a choking sound that resembled poorly contained laughter.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, come on.”

“No, really.” He stepped closer to me. He was taller than I was but only by a few inches. “Well, I'm your guardian.” A smile twisted the corners of his mouth. “I'm not an angel, though.”

“I knew that already.” I nodded to the brothers and Extreme Phil, who were gathering branches and lumber and covering the bodies, and glanced at Mrs. Wu before returning my gaze to Jack. “And they are?”

“Part of the guard,” he said, as if it were obvious.

“The guard,” I repeated.

“Um, yeah.” He exchanged a look with Mrs. Wu and took a deep breath, as if he wanted to get this part over with as quickly as possible. “The Queen figured they might come looking for you eventually, what with you being old enough now to start exhibiting your powers, so she arranged a guard detail to join you when you moved to Toronto—”

I held up my free hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Queen
who?
Powers
what?
And what do I need a guard for?”

He sighed and looked like he was developing a headache. Maybe I'd given him mine, as it seemed to have vanished. “You don't know who you are, do you?”

“Of course I do.” Maybe he thought I'd hit my head on something. “I'm Natalie O'Neill.”

“
You
are one of the heirs to the Seelie Court.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I said—”

“I heard what you said, but you don't expect me to believe I'm some sort of supernatural creature!” I looked pointedly at the bodies, then decided it was better not to keep my focus there. I glared at Jack, demanding an explanation. It was the first time I noticed his eyes were blue.

He raised his hands in a sign of placation. “No one is saying you're like them. Those weren't Seelie.”

“I know that! One of them said I had Seelie in me, and they said Seelie eat humans!” I turned to Mrs. Wu for confirmation. “Do they?”

“Maybe,” she conceded, “but that was long, long time ago. Not eat anymore.” And she patted my arm reassuringly. “Friends.”

I frowned. “But the Seelie are at war with the King, right? So . . . those three were from the Unseelie Court?”

At the request of Extreme Phil, Jack tossed him a lighter. “Uh, basically, yes.”

I had to sit down, but there was nowhere to sit. “This is too weird.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah.”

I looked at him. “And you—”

“Are an ‘abomination,' ” he finished. He smiled, almost shyly. “I have Seelie blood, too.”

“Pointy ears are myth,” Mrs. Wu said when she caught me scrutinizing Jack very closely. Her grandson nodded wisely.

The flames took me by surprise. We turned and watched as the fire blazed madly, consuming the bodies of my nightmare creatures. I quickly checked my pockets and removed their contents. Slipping off my ruined jacket, I stepped forward and tossed it onto the pyre. The flames melted the nylon fabric within seconds.

I sighed. “This is real?”

“Yeah,” Jack said.

“Straight up?”

He nodded. “Yep.”

“And someone was going to tell me about all this
when
, exactly?”

“Oh, soon,” he said evasively. “The less you knew, the less chance you had of accidentally exposing yourself.” I noted Mrs. Wu sending him a stern look that suggested they had disagreed on that point. I'd have to ask her about that during her next manicure.

“Do my parents have any clue?”

“Your father knows all about it,” Mrs. Wu admitted.

I gaped. “Dad knows
all
about it?”

“Who found you this apartment?” Jack pointed out.

“I'm gonna kill him,” I muttered.

“Not his fault,” Mrs. Wu stated firmly. “The Queen wouldn't let him tell.”

“What about Mum?”

Mrs. Wu shook her head. “She is safer not to know. The Queen—”

“Yeah. The Queen. Right.” God, I was tired. “Well, I don't know about anyone else, but I could use a stiff—” I caught myself, remembering there was a minor present. “A glass of orange juice. How about you?”

Mrs. Wu smiled. “Good idea,” she said and her grandson started to hop and tug on her robe, speaking in Mandarin about wanting a drink
now
. It was the most normal activity I'd seen in hours.

“You should have that shoulder looked at,” Jack suggested quietly. He looked genuinely concerned. I hadn't forgotten about my injury as much as it had been pushed to the back of the line by revelations.

“Yeah, I guess so.” I sighed. My “guard” watched and waited. The bodies of our attackers crackled in the fire behind them. I was glad to be upwind. “You have a lot of explaining to do,” I told all of them sternly, ticking off the points with my fingers as I made them. “Heir to a Court I only know from faerie tales, special powers, all this cloak and dagger stuff.”

“Don't worry,” Jack said, smiling reassuringly. I wasn't used to him being so nice. “We have plenty of time to get into that—thanks to you.”

Maybe I should cut him some slack. He did just save my life, after all.
I smiled. “No, thanks to
you
.” I paused. “At least my headache's gone.”

“No, it hasn't,” Jack assured me, pointing to his chest. “
I'm
gonna be your headache now. Learning to control your abilities starts on Monday, Ms. O'Neill.”

“Really?” I said sweetly. “I'll remember that the next time you wanna play your music, Jack . . . ?”

“Hudson.” His grin broadened at my startled look, and he nodded. “You know, Nattie, my grandmother
really
liked you.”

Esther M. Friesner

 

 

T
HE HOOD THAT the brothers jammed over my head stank of sweat and something more, a scent at once familiar and alien, sweet, yet with a faint hint of bitterness. I trembled in their iron grip, marveling that men whom I and any other sighted person would have taken for weaklings could possess such unanticipated strength. As they hustled me along, I was further astonished by the speed at which they moved. Their plump bodies and the languid, slothful way in which they conducted themselves in public had fooled me into believing that they were as sluggish as they were weak.

Wrong on both counts
, I thought sourly.
I underestimated them, believed just what they wanted me to believe. Do they realize that? Will my inexcusable naïveté count against me when I stand before . . .
him?
Oh, God, please no! I've given so much, dared so much for this chance! Please don't let them suspect that my intelligence isn't worthy, that I'm not worthy to become one of them!

I struggled for air inside the hood. My own breath was hot, bathing my face in a stifling, muggy mist. I felt my heart beat faster and faster as eagerness turned to fear, fear to the blindest panic.

God, what if they
do
know how badly I've misjudged them?

Heartsick, I recalled the way in which they'd first approached me with the invitation I had yearned to receive for so very long.

“We've been empowered to tell you that
he
wants to see you,” they'd said. “He believes that you show . . . promise.”

It was only by the mightiest effort on my part that I did not fall to my knees at once and kiss their feet in slavish gratitude. There was no need for them to say more than that, nor would they have done so. We all knew what, if not whom they meant by
he
, even if I remained ignorant of any further means of identifying him more specifically.
He
was the Master, and he held my future in the palm of his hand.

Ah, the joy of that blessed summons! It was an invitation made all the more affecting by the fact that up until that moment, I still half-believed that it would never come because there
was
no secret league, no hidden path, that my suspicions as to its existence were nothing more than the product of a fevered brain driven to the brink of insanity by bitter frustration.

And now, had I thrown away the prize so arduously won by a simple, thoughtless act of misapprehension?

Like bats awakening from their daylight sleep, my doubts flew forth in ones and twos, then in vast swarms to darken my soul:
This chance—this one golden chance they've offered me to become one of them—what if it's only a cruel, sick joke? And who knows how a joke like this will end, given who
—what—
these people are? I know how their minds work, even if I underrated their bodies. Is there anything too devious, too twisted for them to imagine? What a short, cold-blooded step it is, from imagining a horror to making it so!

The thought froze my blood and turned my bones to jelly. I stumbled badly, and would have fallen if not for my guides, my captors.

“Careful there, little lady.” Even though I knew both of my escorts, the heavy hood muffled sound just enough for me to be unable to determine which of the two members of the elite brethren spoke. “What were you thinking, wearing shoes like
that
for something like this?”

“Eh, she just wants to make a good first impression.” The second man snickered. He patted me on the back. “I think it's
sweet
, you dressing up like that, honey: high heels, tight sweater, and is that a slit in your skirt? Oooh, slutty. Me like.”