Still Not Dead Enough , Book 2 of The Dead Among Us (28 page)

Paul tried to remember the man’s face, couldn’t; tried to remember what they’d spoken of, couldn’t; tried to remember anything about the man, couldn’t. “I don’t know,” Paul said. “For some reason I keep thinking of one of them as the
black Sidhe
. But, for the life of me, I couldn’t tell you why.”

~~~

Magreth did choose to accompany them, and brought along Dergindaal and his entire guard as escort. Dergindaal and his men rode the incredible Sidhe steeds. The animals were certainly horses, but calling a Sidhe steed a horse was like calling a Lamborghini a car. The animals each stood eight feet at the ears, two-thousand pounds of sleek, muscled tension, always ready to challenge the wind for speed and endurance. They were beasts of pure magic, elemental constructs spawned of the essence of Faerie. When they ran, their hooves touched the ground only every three or four hundred feet, and McGowan, who had ridden a Sidhe steed, assured him it was in no way a jarring or harsh ride.

McGowan, because he was experienced, chose to ride also, even tried to get Paul to ride one of the steeds. “I’d be stupid to do that,” Paul said. “I’ve never ridden a horse in my life. I’ll fall off and break my ass.”

“With these animals, if they don’t want you to fall, there’s no way you’ll fall. And if they don’t want you to ride, there’s no way you’ll ride.”

Paul declined. “I’ll ride in one of the coaches.”

Jim’Jiminie and Boo’Diddle also chose to ride with the guard, sharing a steed between them. Paul had asked McGowan why they had bothered to bring the little scampering fellows along. McGowan reminded him of the hundred years of bad luck that came with killing a leprechaun in anything other than self-defense. “Remember their traditional neutrality,” McGowan told him. “If those two leprechauns decide that we’re the injured party, that could isolate Ag from all of Non-aligned Faerie. The Unseelie Court would then stand alone.”

Magreth provided two fantastical coaches, dripping with gold gilt and silver piping, gargoyles and strange creatures carved into almost every feature. She and Colleen and Cadilus rode in the larger coach, while Paul, Devoe and Lord Sinthas, Magreth’s personal physician, rode in the other, smaller coach.

It was a comfortable ride, and for the first time in a long time Paul had time to watch the countryside pass by and think. Since they’d come to Faerie he’d been obsessed with that spiral-slippage-through-reality feeling he’d sensed every time they crossed over from the Mortal Plane. He’d now felt it several times, and while supposedly Jim’Jiminie had brought him and Katherine back after the heart arrow incident, he didn’t remember Jim’Jiminie returning for them. He was almost certain it had been just he and Katherine in the small copse of trees just before crossing back, almost certain. And he remembered that little, spiral twist quite vividly.

On the other hand, crossing over into the Netherworld was more a sideways slippage in reality. The two sensations were distinctly different, yet similar. And he thought if he could find time to work on it, time to experiment, he might repeat them both. But McGowan and Colleen had told him time and again that was impossible. Only the fey could indiscriminately open pathways to and from Faerie. And no one could do so to the Netherworld.

They crossed a stream, and Sinthas informed them they were now in Non-aligned Faerie, where neither Court claimed sovereignty. He explained that leprechauns, certain forms of sprite and pixie, and other forms of fey lived without fealty to either Court. Some, like the leprechauns, were welcome in either Court at any time. And some, like the Baen’Sidhe, were shunned and never welcome under any circumstances. He said nothing about the
black fey
, and Paul thought that odd.

He thought again of Anogh’s words in front of his apartment.
The love for which you grieve must be avenged. And when you learn of love’s betrayal, remember this lesson . . .
He’d then shown Paul how even a normal heterosexual male could be drawn into a wild homosexual fantasy by the beguilement of a Sidhe male.
. . . she could not have resisted him . . .
he’d finished. And then only yesterday, in Magreth’s sitting room,
when the time comes, you will know the truth of it.

What game was Anogh playing at? He was Sidhe through and through, and Sidhe played games like mortals breathed air. Was he merely trying to deflect Paul’s suspicions from him, confuse him, focus him elsewhere?

“Young Mage,” Sinthas interrupted his thoughts. “We are approaching the outer boundary of the Unseelie territories. You should prepare yourself. Proper introductions will have to be made before we can proceed.”

The coach slowed even as Sinthas spoke. Paul put his memories of Suzanna and Cloe away, though he swore that, if his growing suspicions were true, someday there would come a reckoning, and someone would pay.

The coach came to a complete stop. Sinthas opened the door and held it for Paul. It was awkward climbing down from the coach in the long wizard’s robes, but Paul managed not to stumble and make a fool of himself.

McGowan and the leprechauns had dismounted, gathered around Magreth along with Colleen and Cadilus. Dergindaal sat astride his steed, and having crossed a small stream he faced an Unseelie warrior draped in armor of lapis lazuli, silver and mother-of-pearl, wearing a helm with a fantastic facemask of silver and peacock feathers, and scales of black flint and white opal. Dergindaal and the Unseelie warrior were in the middle of conversing as Paul approached the small group surrounding Magreth, but for an instant Paul met the Unseelie warrior’s eyes, pitiless, unforgiving eyes that took Paul’s measure and clearly found him wanting. The facemask ended just above his lips, and he smiled cruelly.

The Unseelie warrior looked away, but Paul couldn’t take his eyes from the fellow. He nudged McGowan and asked, “Who’s the shithead with the face mask?”

But it was Anogh who answered him. “That, Young Mage, is Simuth, the Winter Knight. Beware the Winter Knight. He will be your undoing, and your salvation.”

Paul had had it, just plain fucking had it with the bastard’s obscure, little proverbs. He drew power, drew copious and dangerous amounts of power, turned on Anogh and snarled viciously, “And I will be your undoing, Summer Knight.”

Anogh backed away, and Paul got some satisfaction from seeing dread written plainly on his face. When he spoke, he spoke fearfully and barely above a whisper, “No, Young Mage, you will be my salvation.”

“Paul,” McGowan snarled in his ear. “You’re holding enough power to blow us all to hell and back. Let it go, son. Let it go.”

Paul allowed the power to dissipate, to drain away slowly, to trickle off into the trees and bushes and weeds and flowers, into the stream, into the earth itself.

Colleen took him by the arm. “You’re staying with me for the rest of this journey. You’ve not been coached in earth magic, so until you’re properly trained you should not draw such power again.”

Paul said, “I’m going to have to kill him.”

“You can’t. Anogh’s immortal.”

Somehow, Paul thought he might know how to kill a Sidhe immortal, though he couldn’t recall the details necessary to do so, just bits and pieces.

The Winter Knight, in his magnificent hereditary armor, crossed the stream. Introductions were made, and when Paul’s turn came he met the Winter Knight’s eyes again, cruel, knowing eyes.

The rest of the journey passed in a blur for Paul. Colleen insisted on riding with him, sent Sinthas to ride in the Coach with Magreth. Paul tried to think of something other than killing Anogh, but he couldn’t rid his mind of that one thought.

~~~

“It was nothing, Your Majesty,” Simuth said smugly. “A trite display of power. He’s an animal, could never rival a Sidhe mage.”

Anogh held his peace. Simuth’s arrogance would never allow him to see the truth. Ag looked from Simuth to Anogh. “Speak, Summer Knight. And speak the truth. I command it.”

Anogh shrugged. “He drew enough power to easily rival that of a strong Sidhe mage.”

Simuth’s voice dripped with scorn, “You perceive him as strong only because that power was directed at you in anger. I do believe you fear him.”

Anogh nodded and grinned. “It is always healthy to fear a strong opponent. It is also healthy to fear a strong ally. Your lack of fear may someday be your undoing.”

Simuth scoffed at him. “I fear no mortal mage.”

“Enough squabbling,” Ag said angrily. He addressed Anogh, “So it is no longer possible to bind him?”

Anogh decided to remind them of his own circumstances. “Not with mere force, Your Majesty. But even the strongest of us can be fool enough to enter into an unwise oath, and be trapped into a binding from which there is no release.”

Ag didn’t miss Anogh’s veiled reference to his own circumstances. He smiled happily. “Of course, we must be subtle.”

“Might I make a suggestion?” Simuth asked hesitantly.

“Do so quickly,” Ag snapped.

Simuth spoke cautiously. “We still have the woman.”

Ag thought about Simuth’s words for a moment, then an unpleasant grin formed slowly on his face. “Yes, we still have the woman.”

~~~

Katherine knew her father had come to the Winter Court. The fact of his presence couldn’t be hidden from her, though whether he’d arrived as a prisoner in chains or an honored guest, she could not say. But he had come, that she knew.

She asked for an audience with Ag, was denied. In desperation, she asked for an audience with Simuth, and he granted her request. If he were true to character, he had granted her request only to torment her. Or perhaps the situation had changed drastically, and Ag had removed the prohibition of sexually assaulting her, so he could return to constantly raping her both in mind and body. She didn’t care. Her father had come, and she would risk any indignity to gain even the tiniest spark of information. But then another realization touched her, something she would never have guessed would penetrate the cloud of uncertainty cast upon her by the Unseelie Court. She sensed that Paul too had come, and for some reason that gave her even more hope than the presence of her father.

When they finally admitted her to Simuth’s presence, he sat upon his little throne. He had created it in his own private apartments, where Ag would never condescend to come, for should he ever see Simuth’s little throne, the punishment would be beyond imagining.

Katherine dropped to both knees before Simuth, bowed so deeply she touched her forehead to the floor. “Your Highness.”

“And what would you have of me, mortal animal?”

She kept her forehead pressed to the floor. Simuth was such a transparent idiot that anyone could manipulate him. “Now that the Old Wizard and the young mage have come to the Unseelie Court, I thought you might wish to consult me.”

A chill passed over the room. “How do you know they’re here?” he growled.

She lifted her forehead off the marble floor and met his eyes. “I didn’t,” she lied. “Not until you spoke.”

He raped her repeatedly that night, raped her body without beguiling her so she felt no physical pleasure from the act, only disgust and horror. Raped her mind by beguiling her, making her desire to commit acts she only wanted to forget. But through it all she understood two things: first, her father and Paul had not come in chains, but had come in strength and power; and second, Ag had not lifted his prohibitions, so Simuth would pay dearly for his follies with her body and her mind.

That night she laughed at him while he raped her, laughed and spit in his face.

~~~

Ag did not receive them officially at the Winter Court, certainly not in the grand style Magreth had chosen. When presented to him, it was with him seated upon his throne in the grand throne room of the Unseelie Court, with only a few dozen courtiers present. It reminded Paul of the massive wooden doors to the Seelie throne room, and how the carved figures of the Seelie emitted an aura of kindness and compassion, while those of the Unseelie radiated cruelty and malice. He met the eyes of at least a dozen Unseelie courtiers, and they all shown with what seemed almost obsessive malevolence, overlaid by lascivious desire. Colleen had warned him that in Faerie he would be sensitive to the aura of Sidhe desires, and only now did he understand what she’d meant.

The throne room was not unlike that of the Seelie Court: large and spacious, the throne resting upon a dais at the end of the room, situated so that to face the king, one must cross the entire span of the hall. Magreth led the small group as they faced Ag, surrounded by Dergindaal and a dozen of his warriors.

When Magreth stopped about thirty feet from the dais, Paul realized that by keeping her distance, she minimized the effect of the dais, minimized Ag’s ability to loom over them in the position of power. She did not curtsy, merely bowed her head, one sovereign to another. “My dear Ag, it has been long since we last met.”

The cruelty and brutality that shown from the Winter King’s eyes made that of the Winter Knight pale in comparison. “Magreth,” Ag said, and Paul felt a chill in the air. “My dear Magreth, as always your beauty outshines my most gracious courtier. But I must confess I am disappointed in the company you keep.” Ag looked at the mortals behind her, let his eyes rest for a moment on each, allowed them to see the open contempt in his face.

Magreth smiled. “These are my dear friends, Your Majesty, and during their sojourn here in Faerie, they journey under the sovereign protection of the Seelie Court, and now, by the word of your representative, also under that of the Unseelie Court. Surely, the hospitality of the Unseelie Court is not so meager as to deny them your courtesy.”

Ag smiled a cold and cruel smile. “Of course, Magreth. You shame me, that I must have you remind me of my responsibilities. They will be granted every courtesy of this Court. But first, please introduce them.”

Everyone but Paul was introduced with something like, . . .
and of course, you know so-and-so . . .
She saved Paul for last. “And here, Your Majesty,” she said, indicating Paul should step forward, “is a young mage new to Faerie and the Courts. May I present Paul Conklin?”