Bigfootloose and Finn Fancy Free (31 page)

“Why am I not surprised,” I muttered, then asked, “If the Archon didn't, then who did?”

“That's for the Archon to figure out,” Vincent said. “It's his communications that's been breached, and his feyblood who got burned up. And his purse that's going to pay, regardless.”

*Could be Hiromi faked the message somehow,* Alynon said. *To cover up what she did to Veirai.*

Maybe.

Vincent looked at Reggie. “It'll be for the ARC to deal with the Fey anyway. We just deal with their stepkids here.” He nodded in the direction of Sal and Silene.

Sal growled.

“Right,” Reggie said. “Come on, Finn, we've still got work to do.”

Frak. This was supposed to be the end of the job. The jorōgumo threat was ended. Challa was free for Sal to pursue, and we'd cleared Silene's name. Everyone was supposed to be happy, and Pete ideally welcomed to join the Silver. Instead, we now faced war.

I followed Reggie out into the hallway. Silene followed gracefully behind me, and Sal ducked through the doorway, with Vincent bringing up the rear. I was blindfolded, then led by Reggie with the others.

“Maybe we should go visit the Silver Archon,” I said to Reggie as I followed blindly through the hallways. “He might find it hard to stick his head in the sand with your boot on his neck. He could speak to the Silver Court, convince them of what's going on.”

Nobody spoke for a minute. Finally, Reggie replied, “Sounds like the Silver Archon ain't exactly feeling trusting of arcana right now, but for all we know the Archon really did order the siren burned and is attempting to use this situation as some kind of power play. He didn't exactly move heaven and earth to handle this situation with Silene's clan, or the jorōgumo. But even if he is legit, he'd be putting his own position on the line to accuse the Shadows of conspiracy, not to mention raising questions in his Fey patrons of whether he can handle the position given him. I just don't see how you could trust him to help.”

We reached the exit. Vincent pulled off my blindfold, removed Sal's collar, and waved us out the door to the Game Farm loop road. Late morning sunlight slapped me in the eyeballs. I blinked at my watch: 10:45
A.M.

So far, not my favorite Monday ever. I wanted to just shoot the whole day down.

And Pete and Vee had only one day left to find a solution that didn't suck.

As my sight adjusted, the others joined us outside, and I saw that Dunngo and Challa waited for us. The dwarf moved back and forth along the road, and the sharp gravel wriggled up into place along his skin to form a spiky exterior. Challa paced anxiously near the entrance, waiting for us, her glamour shimmering around her like a heat wave, making her appear like a bear to anyone without the ability to see through it.

“Brightsister!” Silene said, and embraced Challa. She stepped back. “My heart shines to see you. How do you fare?”

Challa looked at Reggie and me before saying, “Iself not hurt. But big-need home.”

“Yes. I think we all could use some rest,” Silene said. Dunngo rode his dirt wave up beside Challa, his mosaic head of colored stone level with Silene's chest. Silene put a hand on his shoulder. “I think we shall take a break and think again on how best to fight for our cause. And—” She glanced at me. “We may need to prepare for greater troubles to come.”

I couldn't meet the question in her eyes, and looked away.

Damn it, I was not responsible for every person I met. Not even those affected by my grandfather's legacy.

There had to be a better way to help Petey.

Dunngo grumbled, and I saw he was staring at me. “Is Gramaraye trouble?”

“No,” Silene said. “No. He helped to free you. As did our Silver cousin here.” She motioned Sal forward. “Challa, this brightblood is named—” She glanced at Sal.

“K'u-k'a Schken'ah Saljchuh,” Sal said.

“Ah,” Silene said. “Perhaps it is time you claim a new name for yourself. You have risen above those.… challenges given you at birth.”

Sal shrugged, but he blushed slightly.

Challa glanced down at Sal's feet. “Youself cover greatfeet with human clothings.”

Sal shrugged again. “Protecting against much bad.”

Challa gave two sharp, rapid cough-like barks that sounded dismissive and disapproving. “Youself hide Seeahtik pride like rabbit-heart.” She turned away. “I return home-safe now.” She strode in the direction of the nearby woods.

“I not—” Sal began, his voice tinged with anger and defensiveness. But Silene put a calming hand on his chest.

“I told you when we met, Challa has her own wounds. Her father, he gave her to a mate when she was very young, a mate who badly abused her. It will take time for her to trust any male of her kind.”

Sal growled low in his throat. “Herself not know true-good Seeahtik then.”

“Sadly,” Silene said. “But, I shall speak to her of your kind deeds and good heart.” She sounded oddly unhappy, and looked after Challa. “But for now, you may need to give her time. We all need time, I think.” She looked at me again. “I will speak to my Archon, for whatever good may come of it, and do what I can for my clan and cousins. I wish you luck in whatever you choose.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I—good luck to you, too.”

Silene gave a single nod, then said to Dunngo, “Come. Let's return home.”

They followed after Challa, across the gravel road and up the hill toward the forest, headed for the nearest fairy path.

“You know,” I said. “I'm beginning to think Challa's wasn't the spirit at Elwha that the Kin Finder pointed to.”

*Brilliant, Sherlock,* Alynon replied.

“What youself say?” Sal asked, his gaze still following after Silene and her party.

“I said, that Silene is pretty amazing, huh?”

Sal nodded, then blinked, and looked down at me. “Herself is like summer storming. Warm skywater and pretty sunglow, then youself get badhit by lightning.”

“Uh huh,” I said. “Well, I don't have my equipment, so I can't know for sure, but—you know what, never mind. I think you're doing just fine without my help. Sal, I think if you follow Silene—and Challa—back to her steading and spend some time there, you will find the love you were looking for. You don't need me. None of you do.”

Reggie gave me a skeptical sideways glance, but didn't say anything.

Sal shrugged. “I will try. It not be so bad maybe to stay with other brightbloods for a shortwhile.”

“There you go,” I said, and slapped him on the back, which was a bit like slapping a wool-covered boulder.

Sal followed after Silene, and Reggie led me back to the parking lot of the Game Farm, where we found his motorcycle waiting, but not my hearse. Was that professional courtesy for Reggie or dislike for me?

“Need a lift?” Reggie asked.

“Looks like,” I said.

Reggie straddled his motorcycle, and grabbed his helmet off the handlebar. “Look, Finn, I understand why you don't want to go back to the Other Realm,” he said. “Hell, I wouldn't go. But don't fool yourself. If you don't go, if you just let Silene give her story to the Archon and leave it up to him to do something about it, then you're putting the life of your brother and Vee in his hands. And if war does break out, will you be okay knowing you might have stopped it?”

“There's got to be a better way.”

“Name it,” Reggie said.

“We could.… take off and nuke the Other Realm from orbit?”

*Not funny. At all,* Alynon said.

Ah, hells. “Fine,” I said. “I can't think of anything better. Yet.”

*YES!* Alynon shouted. *I'm going home!*

“Yippee ki yay.” I sighed.

Mother frakker.

 

21

Miss You Much

Waterfront veggie pizzas covered our dining room table, my first choice for a last meal. Their delicious smell filled the room and made my stomach rumble as I said good-bye to my family again, and for possibly the last time.

Of course, I didn't put it that way. I just informed them that I would be going into the Other Realm to speak with the Silver Court.

Silence fell around the table.

Dawn sat on my right. I couldn't tell if she was still upset with me or not. She'd played it cool when I first walked in, as if there'd been no doubt I'd survive a confrontation with a jorōgumo, but she hadn't been overly affectionate, either. I worried the news that I would be leaving again, risking my life yet again, would not help the situation, but couldn't bring myself to face her yet. I turned and looked in the other direction instead.

Mort appeared confused. He wore one of his fifty-dollar black T-shirts that normally fit him as if tailor made, and I couldn't help but notice how loose it hung on him, how unwell he still looked. Who would kick him in the butt when I was gone? Who would keep him from driving himself or the family business into the ground out of some impulsive need or fear?

Father put olives on two of his fingers and waggled them at each other like finger puppets. And Mattie looked angry, as if I'd broken a promise to her. She stabbed in a distracted but forceful manner at her food with her fork, and wouldn't meet my eyes.

Gods, what would happen to them if Mort lost the family business, or worse, his life? Mattie had taken on much of the responsibility for Father before I'd returned. Hell, she'd taken on most of the responsibility in the household, period. I'd tried to take some of that off of her so she could enjoy more of a normal teenage life—or at least as normal as a teen in a family of necromancers can have—and Pete helped out as well, but neither of them were exactly in a position to take responsibility for Father if anything happened to me and Mort both.

Sammy pushed up her thick-rimmed black glasses. “There's got to be a better way,” she said, and the light from the chandelier glinted off her nose stud as her nostrils flared. She leaned back and crossed her arms, giving me a stare that said I was a sucker, or an idiot, or possibly both. She might look after Father, Mattie, and Pete, but she would resent it and it would be from a distance. Putting aside her allergy to magic, she would not be willing to leave the city and move back to Port Townsend, two hours and a ferry ride away from her friends, her job, her girlfriend.

Pete and Vee exchanged worried glances, and Pete's brow furrowed. “You said before you couldn't go back there even if you wanted.”

“Yeah, well—” I had no response.

I turned last to Dawn, and met her eyes.

She took my hand and squeezed it. “Finn, if you were going off to fight another monster, I admit, I'd probably kick your ass myself. But if there's one thing I know, it's that you wouldn't be going anywhere near that Other Realm place if there was any friggin' way in hell to avoid it. So I'm guessing there's a pretty damn good reason?”

I managed not to look at Pete and Vee, and just said, “Yeah. A lot of lives may depend on it.”

Sammy made a disgusted noise. “So let the ARC handle it. Hell, they should be kissing your ass after exiling you and all that's happened, not making you do their job for them.”

“The ARC isn't making me do anything,” I said.

“Yes, they are,” Sammy said. “By not doing anything, they're making you do something.”

“Yeah,” Mattie said. “Auntie Sam's right. If there's really lives at stake, why aren't
they
going into the Other Realm?”

“Because,” I said, still avoiding Pete and Vee's eyes. “It's not arcana lives at stake. It's the Fey. And brightbloods.”

“Oh,” Vee said.

“What does that mean?” Pete asked.

Sammy looked from Pete to me, and her expression softened as she uncrossed her arms. “Shit.” She sighed. “You're sure there's no other way?”

“Not one that I can trust and sleep okay tonight. None that I could live with if—” I glanced at Pete, and quickly away again. I shrugged.

Mort shook his head. “I know this may sound a bit insensitive, but, well, have you considered that a few Fey and feybloods losing their lives isn't necessarily the worst thing that could happen?”

“What the fuck, Mort?” Sammy snapped.

“Dad!” Mattie said.

He raised his hands. “Look, I'm just saying, for all we know, worrying about the Fey dying is like, well, worrying about the characters in your dream dying because you woke up. But they sure as hell want to kill us, and that's real.”

*Your brother is a cretin,* Alynon said.

Grandfather's influence,
I thought back.

“It's not just about the Fey,” I said.

“So?” Mort said. “Feybloods aren't much better. Well, obviously, I don't mean Pete and Vee and folks raised normal who didn't choose to be infected. But real feybloods? How many times in the last three months has our family been attacked by them? Those witches, the sasquatches, the waerwolves, that jorōgumo—and that's just us. I think maybe there's getting to be too many of them if the DFM can't control them anymore. And, well, I know this might sound cold or whatever, but let's face it, if a bunch of feybloods were to pass on, that wouldn't exactly be bad for business.”

“Dude!” Sammy said. “Every time I start to have a little hope for you, you go and pull some messed-up junk like this.”

“Seriously,” I agreed. “Mother taught us better than that.”

Mort looked offended. Oh the irony. “
Seriously,
you're all going to pretend like you haven't had similar thoughts? What, you all love the Fey and feybloods now?”

“Some of them,” I said. “The ones who deserve it.”

*Aww, thanks,* Alynon said.

Don't make assumptions,
I thought back.

Mattie nodded agreement. “Dad, I know you're not trying to be racist or anything. You're just, uh—” She looked to me for help. But I had nothing, and gave her an apologetic shrug.