Bigfootloose and Finn Fancy Free (28 page)

“She pretended to be one of us,” Silene said. “She betrayed us, and she tried to kill us. Don't interfere, arcana. This is brightblood justice.”

“You're within your rights,” I said. “But killing Hiromi isn't going to help your cause, or yourself. Capturing her, helping us to prove she set you up for the attack on the alchemist, that will show the ARC you can work with us toward our common goals.”

A fresh wave of fury swept across Silene's features. “This creature is the one responsible for Veirai's death?”

*Smooth.*

Crap.

“Someone else told her to do it, and that someone's the real enemy here. But if you kill Hiromi, we won't find out who, or why.”

“Not true,” Silene said. “You can ask her after she's dead.”

“Maybe, but—”

Silene raised her hand, spread-fingered, her eyes fixed on Hiromi.

“Please, don't,” I said. “Talking to her spirit will drain me of life. And if Hiromi's orders came from the Fey Lords themselves, we need her alive to prove it. You know my word alone won't be enough to accuse the Forest of Shadows of breaking the Pax.”

Silene stared at Hiromi for a long minute, then slowly lowered her raised hand back to the grass, and shuddered. “It matters little anyway,” she said. “She will not live long.”

She slumped down to rest against the ring's edge, appearing suddenly exhausted.

I looked at Hiromi, weeping and twitching on the ground.

“Can you heal her?” I asked Silene.

Silene looked from me to Hiromi. “I will not finish her life,” she said, her voice heavy now with weariness. “But neither will I save it.”

I sighed. Why couldn't anything be easy?

I would need to get Reggie free of the webbing, and have him question Hiromi before she died. Reggie probably had come prepared with a potion or spell to melt jorōgumo webs, but he was the one person who couldn't help free himself.

Of smeggin' course.

I hurried to my pile of shredded clothing, and salvaged what I could, tying the remains of the flannel shirt around my waist to drape down like a loincloth.

*Waste of time,* Alynon said. *You have nothing to be embarrassed about except that gut, and sorry to say your loincloth does nothing to hide that.*

I'm not embarrassed, I'm cold,
I lied, and began searching for the revolver. Well, I was cold, too. The misty breeze coming up off of the ocean prickled over the goosebumps on my skin, and my feet had long gone numb in the cold grass.

“You're wasting time!” Ned said as I continued searching the tall weeds. He tried once more to get to his feet and collapsed as if extremely drunk. “She needs a healer!”

I ignored him, and found the revolver. I picked it up, and crossed the grassy bluff to Hiromi.

“Help me,” she cried.

“I'll do what I can,” I promised, and looked at Sal. He had broken several strands of the webbing around him but still remained entangled from the waist down. “You okay?” I asked.

“Iself's arm big hurts. But spiderbright webs almost gone.”

“Okay. Hang in there, and we'll see about your arm.”

I kept clear of Hiromi's front, where she might still somehow spit webs or lunge at me. I wrapped a shredded jeans leg around one of her detached limbs to protect my hands from the wire-like hairs, and tugged it free of the vines. The leg was as wide around as my calf, ending in a curved, talon-like tip with a wicked sawed edge. I dragged it over to Sal, and sawed at the webbing with the claw. Hiromi's claw passed through the strands like hot drool through cotton candy, and the webbing fell away from Sal.

“Keep an eye on them,” I said, nodding to Hiromi and Ned, then strode over to Reggie and cut through the webbing covering him.

“Can you revive him?” I asked Silene.

She blinked at me, then at Reggie. “I—maybe.” She kept one hand on the grass, and placed the other on Reggie's head. After a second, he stirred, and then jerked awake, raising his baton as if to strike me.

“It's Finn!” I said. “You're safe.”

He scrambled to his feet, and took in the scene. He looked from Hiromi to Silene. “Your work?” he asked her.

Silene nodded.

“Well done,” he said, and climbed out of the ring, glowing baton in one hand, pistol in the other. Silene climbed out after him.

“We don't have much time,” I said. “We need to get Hiromi to a healer, or get one here.”

“Not sure it would help at this point,” Reggie said. “Those are mortal wounds for a jorōgumo. Stay here,” he said to Silene, then strode to Hiromi. I went with him. He glanced at me sideways. “Nice look by the way, Tarzan.”

I sighed. “Thanks. Why didn't you just blast Hiromi with some wizard magic?”

“Reasons I don't feel like discussing,” Reggie replied. He stopped in front of Hiromi. “Hiromi Haraguchi, you are hereby accused of breaking the rules of the Pax Arcana by inciting war between arcana, feybloods, and the Fey through acts of deception and terror. Tell me your orders, and who gave them, and you may be given asylum in a DFM holding facility. Otherwise, you will face sentencing under Pax law.”

Hiromi hissed a laugh, but it was weak now, and her eyes drooped. “You're too late, Enforcer,” she said, her words slurred. “I am free. As will all of my brothers and sisters be soon enough.”

She slumped down, and shuddered.

Her remaining legs curled inward.

“No! Hiromi, no!” Ned shouted.

I turned, raising my revolver, and Reggie did the same with his pistol.

Ned rose to his feet, but remained where he stood, swaying slightly.

“You bastards!” he said, tears running down his cheeks. “You took her from me! You took the only good thing in this stinking human world.” He wiped at his face, smearing the blood from his wound across it. “You will all face the Shadows someday.” He turned to Silene. “And you, Silver whore, you will be among the first to suffer.” Then he lurched into a stumbling run at Silene, screaming.

Silene tried to re-enter the protection of the stone ring, but the air flashed orange above the stones. Silene bounced back into the grass. She couldn't re-enter it without Reggie's help.

“Stop!” I shouted at Ned. With Hiromi dead, Ned was our best chance for a living witness to hand over to the ARC.

Reggie didn't bother with a warning. He aimed and fired several shots in rapid succession.

The first two hit Ned in the arm and side, causing wounds to blossom like roses. Ned jerked, but did not fall, continuing his charge at Silene. She retreated but did not run, her expression one of determination. The next two shots missed.

The third hit Ned in the head.

His head jerked away from us, and his body followed the direction of his head, wobbling like a marionette operated by a drunk.

Ned tumbled from the edge of the bluff.

I ran to the edge and looked down. Ned lay in a contorted, bloody mess among the rocks and ferns at the base of the cliff.

A seagull cried as it rode the wind in from the Salish Sea.

*Well, that could have gone better,* Alynon said.

 

19

I Know You Got Soul

I turned away from the bluff's edge, away from the view of the sea, away from the sight of Ned broken and dead on the ground far below.

“What now?” I asked Reggie as he stepped beside me and glanced over the edge.

“Now we take them both to the local DFM headquarters,” he said.

“Will the ARC at least have a necromancer Talk to them?” I asked, remembering how the DFM hadn't even bothered Talking to Veirai.

“Yes,” Reggie said, and rubbed vigorously at the top of his bald head. “But the ARC isn't going to care too much about clearing your feyblood friends. They're just going to wanna know about any threats to arcana security, if any of the Fey Demesnes are actively working against us. They may not ask the questions you want asked, and if they do, well, I guess it will depend on who's doing the asking whether the answers leave the room.”

I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the wind. “So, in other words, if I want to prove Silene and her brightbloods are innocent and make sure they aren't still in danger, I'll need to Talk to Hiromi myself.”

“'Fraid so,” Reggie replied.

Veirai's spirit had been largely intact, her personality whole, because her nature had been largely human, and her Fey nature minimal. But Hiromi, she was as much or more a product of her Fey nature as any human aspect. Whatever of her human spirit I was able to summon, I did not expect it to be entirely whole, sane, or safe.

So not only would getting any answers from Hiromi be much harder—and more draining—but if I got possessed by such a spirit, I'd go all Jack Nicholson,
Shining
style, and that was if I was lucky.

Thinking about her dual nature, half Fey spirit, half earthly spirit, I had a sudden lightbulb moment about the nature of that Simon artifact Father had given me. But that would have to wait for later.

“You're going to want to do it soon,” Reggie said in a prodding tone. “All this magic and death, enforcers are going to be here soon.”

Perfect. “
Carpe
frakking
diem
, oh captain my captain,” I muttered, and strode back to Hiromi's body.

She lay on her back, curled in on herself. Her human arms were tucked in close and crossed over her chest, her hands curled up into half fists. The pincers had retracted from the corners of her mouth, leaving only her red lips in a small pout, and strands of long black hair fell over her face. If you could ignore the spider legs that surrounded her like a curled cage, she looked asleep, peaceful. Beautiful.

I reached out and placed a hand on her arm. With her being so recently dead, at least, there might still be some life energy in her body to help fuel the Talking.

I concentrated, called up my magic, and summoned Hiromi's spirit. And even as I did so, my free hand grasped the spirit trap that hung around my neck, prepared to force Hiromi into it to prevent a second and potentially deadlier battle with her.

“Hiromi,” I said. “I must ask you some questions, and I compel you to answer true.”

“Ask ask asking ask,” she responded in a voice that only I could hear, and sounded … unsettled. “Answers are mine, you cannot have.” She giggled.

I felt life energy trickle from me as she spoke, a wider flow than normal as I opened up the summoning so that Hiromi's voice echoed out of her body and could be heard by Reggie, Sal, and Silene as well, though the effect only went one way. While I could make others hear a summoned spirit, the spirits I summoned could only ever hear me.

“Refusing to help me will only hurt your brightblood brothers and sisters,” I replied. “Help me prove who's behind your actions and I'll explain to the ARC you were only following orders.”

Hiromi's laugh did not hold the hissing it had in life, but was the mad laugh of a woman who had lived long years filled with more tragedy and pain than a human soul was meant to bear. “Following orders, borders orders soldiers badges bridges ferries fairies forts. Yes! Oh yes! Brightbloods murdered herded hurted, war is over never over never over. Any excuse you will use abuse I refuse—”

“Hiromi, focus, please,” I said. “The DFM won't show you patience, or mercy. But I do want to help. So help me understand. Help your sister.”

“Sisssster. Oh pretty sister. Poor little sister.”

“I met her you know,” I said. “Kaminari? The girl who likes to make rhymes. You do realize the ARC is going to come down on her and her clan for your actions? They won't believe you were acting alone.”

A sudden, wild surge of will and energy from Hiromi's spirit pulled my mental feet out from beneath me like a vicious riptide and drowned me in an ocean of madness before I could block it or use the spirit trap.

Emotions crashed over me. Fear and fury, pain and love. And images began to smash into me, the fragmented wreckage of her memory, upon which my own mind somehow enforced a kind of order and sense.

*   *   *

Hiromi huddled in the tree line, barely eighteen, and held eight-year-old Kaminari in her arms as they watched the American soldiers directing their mother and father toward the ferry.

Adopted parents, and arcana at that, but the couple had raised both of the girls since an associate found the sisters stowed away in a Japanese cargo ship. Jorōgumo were prized for many reasons, few of them good for the jorōgumo, but the couple had not sold them to alchemists, or the underground fight pits, or the brightblood brothels, or any of the other possible fates that awaited them. And as sorcerers, the couple had been able to work with Kaminari's fits, calming her mind and her fears. They had helped Hiromi learn control of the crueler instincts her Fey half inspired. They had shown the girls love. It might have been out of sorrow for their own daughter at first, lost to polio and pneumonia, but the reasons mattered little to Hiromi. The love had been real.

Now those parents were the ones being shipped off, treated like animals. Hiromi didn't understand why they didn't just use their power on those stupid mundy soldiers, why none of the Japanese fought or resisted losing their homes, their businesses, their freedom. “We are loyal Americans,” her father had said. “Fighting will only prove their fears.”

A U.S. soldier stopped her parents, and pinned dangling paper tags onto their jacket collars. The way her parents had tagged objects to be sold in their antique shop. Hiromi's hard-won control began to slip, her spider legs itching to come out—

Kaminari stirred restlessly in her arms.

She had to protect Kaminari. She could not risk exposure, or her own life, not when she was all that Kaminari had.

Hiromi squeezed her little sister, and said, “Calm, little Kami. It will be over soon. Send them good thoughts. Remember they can feel us still.”