All's Fair (Fair Folk Chronicles Book 4) (15 page)

Chapter 29: They Also Serve

As Megan, her eyes still closed, stepped forward, the air lost its bite. Oh, it was still cold, but no frost crunched under her feet as she walked out of the circle. It was the melancholy almost-muggy cold of Seattle just before Christmas, and in Fremont Peak Park, Megan's name was being shouted.

Sheila O'Reilly was on her daughter in a moment, hugging tightly. “You've got to stop doing this to me, you know. You've been pulling the 'safety of the worlds' card for eight months. It's getting old.”

“You're in the park.”

“Yes, sweetie. You're very observant.”

And then Megan actually did look out, at the array of picnic blankets laid out, and the people on them. She realized why all the wounds before the battle had been relatively minor.

“You've been treating all the injured?”

“Don't be ridiculous, sweetie. Katja's doing most of the treating. She was an EMT, you know.”

Megan blinked out at the second violinist for Sax & Violins, crouching beside an Unseelie scout of Megan's passing acquaintance. Cris the drummer and Finn the troll roadie were already helping carry more of the wounded out of the circle and onto the blankets to which Kalea Kahale directed them.

“You've had people like Ginevra Greenteeth just lying around in public,” Megan said. “And nobody's called the cops?”

“It's Fremont. People just think she's partied too hard.”

“And the scales?” Megan asked.

“Ginevra has scales? I didn't really look at her at dawn.”

“Oh. Right.” It had been a long time since Megan looked at things in an entirely human way. She took a deep breath. “Okay. So much to do. There's a lot of … Fomoire weapons are poisoned, Mom. We might run out of bottles...”

“You might, sweetie. I grabbed my first stash from that bottomless medicine-kettle thing when I was there back in May, and I've asked Kerr for more here and there over the Fall. We're good for medicine.”

Megan looked around, and sure enough, Erin the bassist was carrying a picnic basket full of bottles of the antidote, passing them to Lani. Over some others, Nell the lead singer was at work with a soothing song.

“You've all been...”

“Of course, sweetie.”

Megan smiled, despite everything,

Ashling spoke up. “So you're running a pretty tight ship here,” she told Sheila.

“Remember my day job. Kalea's too, for that matter, as an office manager. The Faerie Triage Picnic isn't above our pay grade.”

“Lucky thing our folk usually heal way faster than businessmen's egos or rock stars' hangovers.”

“If you think rock stars consider hangovers a real health concern, there are some people to whom I need to introduce you. Okay, Megan, I hate to do this, but we have to get more of that medicine passed around.”

Megan nodded, moving into the midst of the action and working on her healing song until someone had time away from more critical cases to check her over.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Cris asked, the culmination of a series of questions as she checked over Megan's head and neck.

“Four.”

"Good. I'm with Lani: minor concussion, but nothing worse. Maybe what you're singing's helping. Not exactly something Katja and I are used to taking into account. But you really need to rest for as long as you can.” She wrapped an ice pack around the back of Megan's neck. “Wear this until it's not cold anymore. Then get another one.”

"I'm not sure how much time we have."

"I get that," Cris said. "But a lot of people will need time to recover. We'll take care of everyone as best we can and look after the people who aren't going to be fit to serve in time."

"Thank you," she replied, before Cris moved on. Megan turned her attention to Cassia, stretched out on a blanket where Violet was tending to her. Cassia's voice sounded a little distant.

"Babe, you're hurt,” Violet said. “You have broken ribs, burns, and there's the infection thing. You need to drink this."

"Stuff's godsawful," Cassia mumbled. "These aren't the bottles I'm looking for. Give me some time with Jose and Jack. You can watch. I'll be fine. Or least it'll hurt less."

“Cass,” said Violet. “Finish the bottle, and I have
so
much booze for you.”

Cassia took the antidote bottle in hand and proceeded to shotgun it.

Megan watched them, thinking about relationships, about what Cassia had said about the links between humanity and things beyond, about how exactly hair dye worked on dreadlocks. She sat there for some time, participating where she could, but mostly trying to deal with the overwhelmingness of the situation.

A sudden “Hi!” broke through her reverie. Mack Kahale was pressing a canteen into her hands.

“Mom and Lani and your mom are all busy with bandages and ice chests and stuff, but they said you're not drinking enough.” A bag of trail mix was added. “Or eating enough.” A medicine bottle was set on top. “And maybe you should take your pills, too.”

“Nice to know they can delegate,” Megan said drily. She ate, drank, and even took one of the pills, much as she didn't think it would take much edge off the pulled-in-all-directions feeling. Then she realized Mack was wearing a corded sweater. A particular corded sweater. She grabbed the sleeve. “Mack, why did you put this on?”

“I was cold. Now I'm not.”

“But it came from... your mom let you put it on?”

“Mom said that she wasn't going to turn anything down right now.”

While Megan was processing that, a heavy hand tapped her armored shoulder gently. “Got that thing you wanted,” said a deep voice beside her.

Megan looked up at Finn, almost uncertain for a moment of whether to look up to his full troll height. “What thing?” There didn't seem to be anything in his hands. “I already had water and stuff when it was passed around,” she said. “No problem there.”

“Well, Cass had said you wanted an errand done.”

“Might not want to take Cassia and her friends Mr. Cuervo and Mr. Daniels literally right now. And I'm sure there's plenty of errands, but Mom and Mrs. K. are kind of organizing—”

“She said you wanted that stone, out of Falias.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. I wanted to make sure nobody else could get it and figure out how to use it.”

“Well, I got it real secure for you.”

“That's cool, thanks. Where is it?”

“Trunk of my car.”

Megan looked at him, eyeing for a moment the toy Volkswagen sticking out of his cargo-pants pocket. “...Your car?”

“Yeah, well. An artist's rendition of my car. So I had some jurisdiction using it, I figure.”

Megan still really didn't understand. She knew about Finn's 'modeling career,' but this still wasn't making any sense. “I...well...as long as it's safe?”

“It is. Maybe we should go get it, though. It's supposed to be handy for kings. Could be good for queens, too.”

“I'm not the Ard Ri of Ireland.” But she had to admit, if she'd been scared the Fomoire could figure it out, it was a valid question.

“You're something of Ireland,” Mack said chipperly. “You and your Mom look like Irish stuff in the picture books. Not just like the regular pictures of white people in Ireland. Like somebody trying to make up Irish.”

Megan rolled her eyes and ruffled Mack's hair. “Yeah, fine. So who knows whom we're related to, huh?” The smirk faded as she thought about that for a moment—about pictures and archetypes and levels beyond levels of reality, and how 'some things are always Irish, because Ric has a Type.'

That reverie was interrupted by Lani. “Mack! We told you to come back when you were done,” she said as she approached.

Finn was also still standing there expectantly. “Lani. You got that car of yours?”

“
Space Ship!
” Mack insisted.

Lani sighed a little at her brother. “Yeah. Need a ride?”

“That'd be good.” Finn then turned. “Hey, Tsonoqua, right?” Finn asked the ogre with a basket on her back.

Tsonoqua nodded, her mouth full of jerky that Mrs. Kahale had gotten Mack passing around. Megan supposed an ogre's apparently positive opinions weren't much indication as to whether Mrs. K's new food dehydrator was working out.

“You two know each other?” Megan asked.

“Well, we're both local,” Finn said.

“I didn't know that.” Megan looked for a moment at the towering ashen figure and didn't see it. Perhaps it was the meds fresh in her system, giving her a touch of unfae focus, but she could see what looked like a tall homeless woman of obvious Native American heritage, carrying all her ragged belongings on her back.
I wonder if I ever walked past her before.

Behind the woman ran a pair of huskies wearing toy saddles.
And of course.

Megan blinked and went back to looking at an ogress again as Finn pointed at the basket. “That thing's not full, is it, Tsonoqua?”

She shook her head.

“Mind doing us a bit of a favor grabbing some stuff, then?”

Chapter 30: Before the Lady of Song

The ride over to the Aurora Bridge was a crowded one, after fitting Finn and Tsonoqua into
Space Ship!
Even seeing them as she might if she were a normal human, both were large people. Even when Finn pushed the front seat all the way back, he barely fit into the car. Megan crowded in behind him, so Tsonoqua could jam herself in behind Lani and her short legs in the driver's seat.

Ashling managed to make herself fit on Megan's shoulder, brushing the moisture off her wings from the fresh ice pack that Megan was trying to keep on. Justin was reluctant to let Megan out of his sight, but wouldn't fit, and his arm needed more attention. By the time they arrived under the bridge, Megan couldn't wait to get out of the car and stretch out her cramped legs.

"All right, so where is it?" she asked, looking around for some hiding spot around the carved troll holding a Volkswagen.

"I'll show you," Finn said, heading for the statue that looked a good deal like his human guise's face, and even more like his trollish aspect. When he reached the car, he touched the back, and better seams appeared in the metal, until the trunk in the sculpture was functional.

"So this is troll magic?" Megan asked Lani.

"Some trolls do earth magic, yeah," Lani said. "Contributed to some of the myths around them, like them turning to stone in sunlight, or turning into rocks to hide, or being able to smell gold."

"Nice. Explains why Finn likes the statue even more."

Finn opened the trunk, drawing out the Lia Fail, and offering it over to the towering Native American woman. She placed the stone into her wicker basket. At first, in this form, it didn't look like it should fit, but the entire stone disappeared, while the basket didn't appear any more weighted down than before. "I will hold it until you need it,” she said quietly, looking at Megan. “Do you want an oath?”

Megan shook her head. "I think we can call this one part of the ongoing oath. If I can make it work, then yeah, I will need it."

The ogress nodded. Finn shut the trunk, and the Aurora troll’s car seemed vaguely inaccessible again.

“So, Finn,” Megan said thoughtfully as they headed back to the park. “Do Scandinavian trolls have tricks like that?”

It was hard for him to shrug, buckled in. “Scandinavian trolls have lots of different tricks.”

Lani was listening intently from the driver's seat, though her eyes stayed on the road. “Planning for how the Scandinavian forces will react when you expose the General's pro-Ragnarok paradigm?” she asked.

“They're not going to be very comfortable with me at that point,” Megan said. “And most of An Teach Deiridh is still used to listening to the General. The Seelie, anyway, on top of the Fishing Trippers. They'll be willing to think his evacuation plan, when it comes, is necessary.”

“Dad'll believe you right away,” Lani said as the pulled up to the park and got out. “So you'll have the engineers. Tiernan'll believe you. The Gray Lady may rally a good chunk of the Unseelie, so we'll—”

“—still be fighting amongst ourselves while the bad guys a whole mystic league above us are tearing down the castle and bringing on the Fimbulwinter anyway. No. Forget Inwar for now. We have to think about going over his head. We have to think about going to the Gods.”

“Isn't that what General Inwar wants?” Lani asked as they walked among the flurry of first aid, nursing, and resupply. “The Gjallerhorn and all.”

“No, not... okay. Fine. I can see why using 'Gods' instead of the weird words for all the different withdrawn mystic-big-league people can sometimes not be the best plan. I don't mean the Aesir or whatever he wants. I mean the Tuatha De Danann. The Irish ones. The Fomoire's real enemies.”

“Megan, I know you're not super-comfortable with the spear, but Lugh's not going to waltz back and take it up for you.”

“I'll settle for a conversation with Brigid. She was the last one out. And I … I just think I could connect with her.”

“Maybe you should sleep on it,” Lani said. “It’s safe to. You could use more rest.” She guided Megan to one of the picnic blankets, next to Cassia, whom Violet was alternately helping with shots of medicine and shots of booze.

Megan sat, but thought for a moment. “I should, but not here.” She looked to Ashling. “Location is important for getting somebody's attention, right? And I need anything I can get, with the whole worlds-apart thing. I need to at least be one world closer.”

The pixie nodded slowly. “So in Faerie. On a hillside. With a good campfire.”

“What's going on now?” Violet asked.

“Trying to figure out how to … commune, or something, with the Goddess Brigid,” Megan said.

“Which may take some extra packing. But first,” Lani said. “She's going to switch out her ice and sing a healing song. Good for her, good for Cassia and the others nearby.” Lani also grabbed Justin's good arm when he came to deliver some more water. “Sit,” she told her Other Brother.

“Katja said I could work,” Justin said.

“You have. And now you have to heal,” Lani said.

Justin sat on the blanket. Beside him sat Seven, although Justin had apparently taken the saddle off of the husky for now.

“COUNT!” Ashling called. “Get over here!”

The crow hopped closer as Megan began to sing.

“What have you been doing?” Ashling asked him quietly.

“Caw.”

“Don't even say that. Just listen to the song.”

Megan sang for a quite a while, feeling the bump on the back of her head fade even as the latest round of ice melted. Then she drank water.

“Here,” Violet said, handing Megan a shot glass and a bottle of rum.

“Um, water's probably better right now,” Megan said. “Besides, I'm underage, and my mom's right over there.”

Violet laughed. “Not for right now. For what you were saying a minute ago. My Granme always said rum for Brigitte.”

“How did your grandmother know about Irish mythology?”

“Some stories get everywhere.”

“Whiskey'll do, too,” Ashling said. “Also milk.”

“She's a Goddess, not a brownie,” Megan said.

“A Goddess you do not want to annoy when in the kitchen,” Ashling said confidently. “Same rules apply. Hmm. What else does she like? Snakes. Deer. Butterflies.”

“Well, maybe my hunch at having a good chance at this connection is off. You'd be perfect.”

Ashling's tattered wings shrugged. “Not entirely perfect.” Her sighing face quickly perked up in inspiration. “Ooh! Also, throw some of your own blood on the fire.”

“I...don't know how much I want to be bleeding after recovering from a concussion soon before another battle. I want her to know I'm serious, but I don't want her to think I'm careless. But I
can
definitely burn the blood amulet.”

“I can't hear enough of what you're saying to endorse it,” Sheila called over from where she was at work several blankets away. “But I'm in favor of burning that blood amulet. And stop leaving without talking to me.”

“I'm planning a meeting, Mom.”

“Get your mp3 player,” Ashling said. “We're going to have to break out the big-time lullaby.”

“And is this meeting on the other side?” Sheila came closer.

“Yep. I just need to spend the night up there, that's all. So I'll head out before the others, but—”

“Not all the others,” Justin interrupted. “I'll be with you.”

“Justin,” Sheila said. “You're not supposed to be that blatant about unchaperoned sleepovers.”

“He's his own built-in chaperon, Mom.”

“The Count and I are coming too,” said Ashling.

“And... so are they,” said Megan. A pause, looking at the husky who was sitting by her feet. “Also, Mom, we might need to discuss at some point if I can have a dog. Because I'm not sure I even have an option.”

Sheila glanced from Justin, to Ashling, to the husky. "All right, I think we can have that discussion. I'll see you when you get back." Megan couldn't help but notice the emphasis on the 'when,' as if it might dispel any chance of there being 'ifs.'

Lani helped settle the Count onto Seven's back. "Caw."

"Don't get used to it," Ashling said. "You're back to
being
first class, coach, and the rest of the flight as soon as that wing heals."

“Megan,” Katja called out from where she was treating a patient. She raised her hand in a peace sign.

While this was probably a normal Fremont goodbye, Megan called out, just in case, “Two!” as she waved and headed out.