Frostbite (Modern Knights Book 1) (22 page)

“Oh,” he said, sitting up in his chair. “Need it for crossing over.”

I nodded sagaciously. Despite spending much of my free time with Veruca, I had not been idle in my weeks with Valente International. The land in question was a barren strip of tundra in Northern Canada. From the Valente standpoint, the problem was underground: there was a significant natural gas deposit. Mystically, a pair of ley lines intersected there, above ground, and I had suspected they had something to do with the Unseelie’s interest. Crossing over was a new term to me, but by the context I assumed they meant they could use it to move things from the fairy world to here and vice versa. I translated that into a guess. “Bringing in or shipping out?”

“Out. Spot not very good for in. But be right for out in a couple of weeks.” He suddenly stopped and slapped himself on the forehead. “Me not supposed to tell you that.”

I shook my head slowly. “I won’t mention it, Sir Kerath. How long will it be usable?”

The troll paused uncertain. He drained his glass, then spoke. “Two weeks. New moon to full moon.”

“What if Valente offered to loan the area to the court for those two weeks?”

Kerath mulled it over, his lubricated gears grinding very slowly now. “How much?”

For the land outright, he had brought five hundred thousand dollars, but Kerath had hinted that other barter might be available. The money to be gained here was irrelevant. Lucien had money; he wanted power and influence. “Nothing is to be taken from the land or under the land. Possession transfers to the Unseelie Court from the start of the new moon until the last night of the corresponding full moon. Assuming these conditions, Valente International will satisfy itself with fifteen days obedient service, from a named Unseelie of our choosing, on the days of our choosing, as specified in the ancient covenants regarding bonds of service. You get our land for fifteen days…we get one of the fae for fifteen days.”

That shook him. He leaned back and appeared to instantly sober. “I should be more careful, wizard. You are not as mentally deficient as Valente’s reputation would suggest.” Kerath paused. “Perhaps we should start our negotiations again, sans theatrics.”

Now it was my turn to look shocked.

6

I
t was well past midnight before Kerath and I hammered out a lease acceptable to both sides. Once we each accepted the other wasn’t as dumb as he looked, we found each other’s company far more enjoyable. Kerath had been chosen as ambassador because he had attended law school at Ohio State. The only part true to stereotype was that it had been paid for by football scholarship. As it turned out, he could suppress most of his fae aura when he wanted to.

“The rental agreement will not thrill the court, I’m afraid,” Kerath confessed. “They had hoped to realize a financial gain, while simultaneously gaining access to the site for the crossing over.

“But the deal is fair,” I insisted, as I walked him to the door.

“That it is, Wizard Fisher,” he acknowledged. “But if my queen wanted fair deals, she wouldn’t have sent me to law school.”

I started to open the front door, then stopped. “My predecessors…they really would have sold that land for a measly half-mill? You’re not that scary looking.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Kerath laughed. “They might not have sold it. But they would have neglected the part about not taking anything on, or under, the land in the rental agreement. And they would have asked for cash, not favors or service.”

We walked quietly into the chill Boston night. I had been inside preparing dinner when Kerath arrived and was curious to see what kind of transportation Ohio State educated troll lawyers used in the mortal realm. I don’t know what I expected, but a cherry red Fiat convertible was not it. I did a double-take as he stepped next to it.

Kerath blushed. “The ladies like it…and I usually keep the top down.”

“I think you’d have to.”

He shrugged. “Size only matters if you let it.” Kerath did a double-take over my shoulder. “Did you tell anyone about our meeting?”

“Only those in the company relevant to the topic. Why?”

He grunted. “Five hundred yards behind you. Government issued vehicle. Her eyes are drilling holes into both of us.”

I glanced behind me, but couldn’t make out anything beyond the vague shade of a sedan. “How can you tell?”

“Don’t let the handsome exterior fool you. I’m still a troll; night time is our time.”

I desperately wanted to play casual, which is always the easiest way to feel awkward and tense. “A spy?”

“Could be. The Seelie are bound to be interested.” Kerath scratched his chin for a moment, before walking past me. “Only one way to find out.”

Matching step for step with a purposefully moving troll was impossible. He closed on the car in a matter of seconds. The dome light clicked on as the driver’s door opened. Whoever was inside had decided they didn’t want to be sitting down when Kerath arrived. For the second time in twenty-four hours, my hand was unconsciously groping about for the handle of my chaos blade.

“Hold it right there, big guy. Federal agent.” Agent Devereaux displayed her gold shield as if it were a cross of faith and Kerath was a marauding vampire.

I jogged to catch up. “It’s all right, Kerath. She’s a friend…right?” I looked at her for reassurance.

She just kept eyeing the troll nervously. He was actively suppressing his trollishness, but he was still mammothly intimidating. At last, Devereaux said, “Yeah, a friend. I just came by to let you know about Salazar’s condition.”

Kerath offered her a small bow. “My apologies, then. I did not mean to frighten you. Mr. Fisher and I have been engaged in some rather important business negotiations all evening.”

“Business negotiations?” She shook her head. “No, no, I’m off duty. I don’t want to know.”

I resented the implications that my business was, by definition, criminal. “Hey, it’s not like that. We were just...”

“Shut up and run.”

“What?”

“No questions, just run.”

I grabbed Devereaux’s arm and pulled her out of the way, just as my mind registered the rumble of the engine. A large black van burst out of the night, barreling straight down on us. Devereaux resisted, the momentum clash throwing us both down to the ground, dead center of the van’s path. Rather than swerve away, the van accelerated. Its chrome bumper glimmered with the promise of death.

I really wished I knew how to throw a fireball.

7

T
here was a loud metallic shriek of impact, but no pain. The van slammed to a stop three feet from my face. In a matter of seconds, Kerath had grown a foot taller and two feet wider. The front end of the vehicle collapsed against his oversized ham-hock fists. The van’s momentum stopped completely, but the troll didn’t even budge.

“What the hell? I knew all those luck...”

Before I could finish my sentence, Devereaux was yanking me up to my feet. My shoulder, still tender from my last dance with the wendigo, protested. “Run,” she said, echoing my subconscious.

My feet obeyed, though I didn’t understand. My hearing was ripped away by a massive explosion. After sound left, my connection to Earth was broken: the force of the blast flung me ragdoll style. For a moment, I hurtled effortlessly through space, before a sudden and harsh reintroduction to the ground.

I wanted to pass out, rather than feel the pain, but my body refused to cooperate. Instead, I lay there wishing the ringing would leave my ears alone. When it had died down to a loud roar, I rolled over to find Devereaux. “You okay?”

She nodded a little, but didn’t try to stand up.

“Thanks…how did you know it would blow?”

With effort, she forced herself to sit up. “Explosives wired to the undercarriage. Got a pretty good look at them after you tripped me.” Devereaux grunted as her hands explored her ribs. “Are people always trying to kill you or is it just when you’re within shouting distance of an FBI agent?”

I shook my head gingerly, still not wanting to stand. “Just feds and faeries, I guess…oh crap.” I forced myself to stand then, as I remembered Sir Kerath. His body lay fifty feet off, full troll now. What little of his clothing hadn’t been torn apart by the sudden growth had been burnt off by the blast.

I rushed over to him and knelt, feeling for a pulse. Mercifully, troll wrist anatomy was not vastly different and I soon found his weak, but present, heartbeat. I heard Devereaux’s footsteps behind me. “What on Earth…” Her voice trailed off.

“Troll,” I answered. “Unseelie Court ambassador, he just saved our lives, and I don’t have time to explain right now.” I patted Kerath’s cheek. “Kerath, come on, wake up. I don’t know what to do here.”

His wounds were extensive. He may have stopped the runaway vehicle with little effort, but the fiery explosion had caught him at ground zero. I heard Devereaux behind me, pushing buttons on what I could only pray wasn’t a cellphone.”

I glanced back, saw that it was, and yelled, “Devereaux! Put that damn thing down and help me get him back inside…or do you want to explain to the Boston PD what a troll is?”

That caught her and she pulled the phone down from her face. “But I don’t even know what a troll is.”

“My point exactly. Now help me get him inside and I’ll explain it to you. Leave him out here and you can handle explanations to all the first responders.”

“But they’d want to talk to you…you’d have to explain,” she stammered.

I grinned. “Can’t talk to a Valente employee without a warrant.”

Her look was thunderous, but she bent over and hooked her arms under Kerath’s knees.

8

G
etting Kerath back upstairs and inside my apartment was rough work, but Agent Devereaux, despite her petite frame, was in much better shape than I was. I cleared the dinner table with a dish-scattering back arm sweep and laid him on top of it, just as the first sirens pulled into the parking lot.

Devereaux was frantic. “What do I tell them?”

I looked over Kerath’s wounds. I remembered stories of trollish regeneration, but his had only stabilized, not improved. I had to hope whatever vital force let him go toe to toe with a van would hold him a little longer. “Stick to the facts. A van charged us, tried to run us down, then it blew up.” I paused for a second. “Do we have to tell them anything?”

“I’m a federal agent, Fisher. I can’t just hide behind a Valente lawyer.”

I wanted to call Duchess right then, but I had no desire to explain to my boss why an FBI agent was making midnight house calls any more than Devereaux wanted to explain what a troll was. “Look, just tell them what you have to and keep them out of here. I’ve got to do something to save him.”

“Right.” She nodded, as if battlefield triage was an everyday thing. “But you owe me an explanation.” With that, she disappeared, closing the front door behind her.

Turning back to Kerath, I wondered what would happen if I let an Unseelie Ambassador die during a diplomatic meeting. I was certain the fae would want reparations far more dire than a single mortal child or a hundred years of slave labor. Again, I frantically whispered in the troll’s ear, “Sir Kerath, if you can hear me, I really need you to pull through this.”

His voice was raspy, as scorched as his skin. “Fairy...Get to…fairy ring.”

It made sense. He needed to get home. In the safety of Fairy, he could heal…but how? I wasn’t intimately familiar with any fairy rings in the area…or in the real world, period. Certainly, I believed such things existed, but...

“Quit thinking, start wizarding.”

“For once, you’re right.”

“How about twice? Who told you to run?”

“Okay, so what do I do?”
I wondered.

“Get him back to Fairyland. If he dies there, it’s not on us.”

“And it might help heal him, too, right?”

“Sure
…
as if that were the important issue.”

I made a whirlwind tour of the lab, scooping up everything I could that I even vaguely thought would help. I had the permanent silver circle, but there was zero chance of me being able to get Kerath from my table to the circle without help. If a circle was needed, it would have to come to him. I grabbed a bag of sugar from the kitchen, tore open its top corner, and began pouring it in a clockwise ring around the dining table. It wasn’t a perfect circle, but it would have to do.

I stepped in and deposited my tools on one of the chairs. I noticed, with dismay, that I’d forgotten my athame.

“Whoa, whoa, shouldn’t we have a plan here?”

“You were the one who said to start wizarding. It’s a little late to pull back now.”

“I meant ’grab the Necronomicon and find a spell’, not ‘start slinging magic helter-skelter.’”

“No Necronomicon needed. I can do this. I’m a professional wizard, remember?”

I pulled the chaos blade from my pocket and willed it into the shape of a ritual dagger. From the inside of the circle, I paced the sugar ring, holding the blade tip over the circle, trying to visualize the whole process in my mind.

I felt the circle snap shut, sealing the magical energies inside with me and Kerath. I placed a half-eaten chocolate bar on his chest and laid both massive hands on top of it, one at a time. The wrapper stuck out from underneath like a lily in the grasp of a sleeping Snow White from a very fractured fairy tale. Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to kiss Kerath to save him.