Against Flesh and Blood 2

7/31/2019 Against Flesh and Blood 2

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QUIA NON EST NOBIS CONLUCTATIO ADVERSUS CARNEM ETSANGUINEM SED

ADVERSUS PRINCIPES ETPOTESTATES ADVERSUS MUNDI RECTORESTENEBRARUM HARUM

CONTRA SPIRITALIA NEQUITIAE IN CAELESTIBUS

for we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities,

against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against

spiritual wickedness in high places...

-Paul of Tarsus


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CHAPTER 1

It began as it always did, with the rattle and thump of helicopter rotors

biting the thin Afghani air. Dust bled through the cracks in the airframe, the

incessant dust that we all believed was the real reason that every army from

Alexander to the Russians had failed to do anything but lose. The damn stuff

got everywhere.

Our Chinook shuddered as it hit a patch of turbulence over Bagram and

our gear, stacked on the floor, bounced into the air. Specialist Ramn Gutierrez

said something under his breath (admittedly with the engines running, you

could never hear anything above a shout anyways) and kicked one of the

rucksacks out from under his feet, then stretched out.

Everybody dealt with the stress of our constant operations differently

some, like Gutierrez faked boredom. For all I knew (but doubted), they really

were that bored. Others, like the platoon L.T., Lieutenant Jason Schmidt,

found calm through their bible. Others fidgeted. Others, like myself, just sat

calmly and ran over the details and quietly kept our nerves from showing.

It was an uneventful flight. I was one of the first men off, and I could see

out the open ramp of the helicopter, past the crew chief and his MG, down andout on the proud and bitter landscape of Afghanistan. I hated it. Most of our

missions ended up somewhere out in the rock and dust, with no living thing

around for miles, getting shot at by men we rarely saw, or getting blown up by

dead animals, or you get the idea.

My sour thoughts must have shown up on my face, because something

mostly solid bounced of my helmet and my partner slash spotter, Sergeant

James Stevens, yelled at me through the rotor noise to stop being so damngloomy. I, being the more upright and gentle member of our sniper section,

immediately gave him the finger. He laughed.

One of these days, Jimmy, Im going to throw something back.

Something heavy! I yelled at him.


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Well, get some practice in and toss me my Snickers bar back! he

shouted back. Besides, you might be inhumanly good with a rifle, but you

sure cant throw Ive seen your passes when we let you quarterback! I flipped

him off again and tossed his candy bar back underhand. It hit Staff Sergeant

Daly in the stomach, who rolled his eyes at our antics and passed it back to

Jim.

You keep this up, I continued, Im never visiting your place in Oregon!

He waved me off, as if to say,promises, promises.

Lieutenant Schmidt tapped me on the shoulder and yelled, Ten

minutes! I nodded and gave him thumbs up. Ten minutes until the bird would

flare to land and our platoon would be on the ground. Game face time. I

checked the magazine in my M24, flipped the bolt out and back, loading a

round, and thumbed the safety on. I heard the metallic sound of 20 odd M4

bolts being pulled back and snapping forward, carrying rounds into the

chambers, and I pulled my M9 from its thigh holster and press-checked it.

Everything was ready to go.

Five minutes! the crew chief yelled, holding up one hand with fingers

spread. I focused on the pushing down all my worries and nerves deep down to

a place where I wouldnt have to worry about them, calming myself. I could feelthe chopper start to shift as it prepared to land, and then it snapped right. We

started to yell, and I could hear shouting faintly from the cockpit, and then

there was a long trail of smoke heading across my field of viewRPG. There

was an explosion above my head, and I could see the ground spinning

nauseatingly closer.

Blackness.

*I woke up gasping for breath, in my own bed, in my tiny little apartment

near Portland, Oregon, sweat soaking into the thin sheets I hadnt managed to

rip off the bed from my tossing and turning.

There was a pill bottle and half empty glass of water on the nightstand

next, scattering the light from my clock across the room. I dumped two of them


4/47

into my mouth and chased them down with water. I would have loved

something stronger, but Kelly had sworn that she would dump me like a hot

potato if I started drinking like a fish again. And right now, she and a lot of

sleeping pills were pretty much all that was keeping me on the right side of

sane.

I lay back and tried to calm myself down and get back to sleep. The clock

glared at me, the numbers bent and foggy. 3:12 AM. It was my day off

tomorrow and I wanted to enjoy as much sleep as I could before relaxing the

rest of it.

4:27 AM.

Apparently that wasnt going to happen. Dammit.

Now, dont get me wrong. I am fine with little to no sleep. Ranger School

and multiple combat deployments taught me that I can survive without sleep

for a long time. But that doesnt mean I like it.

4:59 AM.

I laid my head back down, closed my eyes, and tried to relax.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

I groaned and pulled my head up to glare blearily at my alarm clock.

5:36.Buzz buzz buzz.

That wasnt the alarmcrap!

I lunged for the night stand and my cell, just as it vibrated its way off

and onto the floor. Unfortunately, I was too enthusiastic in reaching for it and

ended up following it onto the floor, sprawling in a highly dignified manner with

the sheets tangled around my legs. Who hadKelly. Crappitycrappitycrapcrap.

We had talked about going out tonight, and she was going to stop by after shegot off work yup I had slept all through the day. SHIT.

I picked up my cell from where it lay on the floor, and look at the screen

wait a second. It showed Krystyna. Not Kelly. What was my girlfriends

fraternal twin doing calling me? She hated me. Ok, well, hate is probably too


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strong of a word, but Krystyna certainly didnt like me or trust me or anything

about me.

I had a bad feeling about this.

*

WHAT?! I yelled.

What more do you want me to say, Calum? Krystyna snapped. Ive

been calling and scrying for Kelly for almost four hours. I cant find her, I cant

See her, and nobody I know has seen her.

And the last person you call is her boyfriend? I spat. Good, sound

thinking there, Kryssy.

It was quiet on the other side for a moment, and when she spoke again,

she sound small, somehow. Tired. Not her usual snide, malignant self.

Im sorry. I called you last because I hoped she was with you, that all

this worrying was for nothing. She sometimes hides herself from me when shes

with youprobably doesnt want me spying on you and see how sickly sweet

you two are. Her voice turned bitter and caustic with the last bit.

I squeezed the bridge of my nose and searched desperately for calm.

Center yourself, ONeill. Center oh, the heck with it.

No, Krystyna, I said, my voice just as sharp and angry as hers, Kelly

isnt here. I dont where she is. We were going to meet up at her shop after she

closed. Obviously that didnt happen. Did she say anything to you at all about

any plans?

No just that she would be meeting youlater.

My jaw flexed as I heard the sourness in her tonebut right now there

was nothing I could do about that at the moment. There were more pressing

things afoot.Alright. Call the cops. Start up a missing

Calum.

I stopped.

We cant go to the cops. This isnt a normal disappearance. If it was a

mundane, a normal person thing, I could See her in my bowl.


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There was one of those nasty moments when I could feel my stomach

begin to drop, like I was falling out of an airplane and my chute wasnt opening

the way it was supposed to.

This is our side of the street, Calum. Something from the ourside took

her. And there was real worry in her voice. Who was I kidding. OF course there

was real worry in her voice. For all that Krystyna and I didnt get along, Kelly

was still her sister, her twin sister. They were closer than anything, except

maybe my grandparents, married nearly 60 years.

I swore, inventively, and with feeling. I was new to the supernatural

scene, and while I was starting to make a reputation as a good and just

mediator, I wasnt fully in the world, no matter what Kelly and a few others

assured me. Just give a good blaster by my side, and I would be good to go

not some wizardly staff and hokey magical stuff.

Pretty much, she said, after a minute.

I rested my forehead decidedly against the nightstand.

Alright. What do we do?

We?

Damn skippy, I growled. As much as you dont like or trust me, Kelly

means the world to me, and I am notgoing to sit around on my thumbs and donothing. What ever youre going to do to find her, Im going with you.

Silence, for a minute. Then

Fine. Ill come pick you up in about fifteen minutes. Then were going

hunting.

Roger, I said as the line went dead. The way this was going, she might

actually warm up to me before I died. And then I groaned. Running around a

community I didnt know well at all or was comfortable in trying to find mymissing girlfriend?

Thank God it was the weekend.


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CHAPTER

I was cleaning when I heard the throaty thrumof a motorcycle pull up on

the street outside my apartment. Yes, I know, its probably one of the odder

things I could be doing, with my stomach twisted up tight in worry and

apprehension, but focusing on a small, intricate task has always helped calm

my mind, make it work in a more rational, straightforward manner, instead of

bouncing across 42 different rabbit-trails of worry, fear, and anxiety.

The door opened after a single, perfunctory knock, and Krystina Novak

strode in. She was almost the exact opposite of her sistertall, slender frame,

pale blonde hair, chill green eyesa classic Slavic Ice Princess. To be fair, I

might have been reading too much into the whole ice princess thing. Then

again

What are you doing? she asked brusquely as she stepped towards the

table in my dining room. Dont you think theres better things to do than sit

hunched over your table oh.

I punctuated her sentence with the oiled whisper and clackof a slide

sliding forward, and set my GLOCK down on the table, next to an AR, a .357,

two more GLOCKs, two shotguns (one pump-action, the other an over-under),and a scuffed up bolt-action rifle.

What is all this? she asked cautiously.

This, I said, sliding a magazine into the pistol and re-racking the slide,

is a small thing that I like to refer to as backup. I have this small, teeny-tiny

suspicion that most, if not all, of the people we are going to interview in regards

to your sister are not the nicest folk on the block. Thus, backup.

You cant take a gun with you!Why not?

Because its its just not done! Nobody uses guns!

Then I sure as hell amtaking a gun, I returned, flatly. If nobody uses

them they wont be expecting it. And, I added with a grim smirk, nothing says

cease and desist like a truly ridiculous amount of .45 ACP coming in your


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direction. I finished slipping the last magazine into its holder on my belt,

slipped on a long dark polo shirt, and a beat-up brown canvas coat over that.

Its not always wet in Portland in October, but its certainly not warm. In fact,

this autumn was odd for the area, from what Id heard. No rain to speak of,

just cool days and cooler nights. Where are we going?

Krystyna gave me a look that combined Extreme Doubt with a helping of

Sneer.

What? I asked.

You dont look threatening.

I snorted. You mean big, overly-muscled, macho, and grunting about

how MMA fights Ive won? Please, Kryssy. Dont insult me. I am perfectly able of

taking care of myself.

She gave a look, tossed her hair, and said, Fine. Lets go.

Where?

To Underhill to visit the Fay.

Huh.

Never been there before. Do I need to wear a heavier coat?

She gave me another withering look, and I shrugged. I turned to turn off

the TV I had running for background and saw a reporter standing outside inthe street with several police cars outside and a fire truckthe headline at the

bottom of the screen said Possible Kidnapping in SE.

Krystyna, I said, as levelly as possible, hold up a sec.

As the volume came up, we heard the reporter asking an elderly lady who

lived in the area what she had heard happen

Im not really sure, but about 2 in the afternoon as I was getting some tea

ready, I heard the screech of tyres outside on the street, so I got up to see whatwas going on. But before I could get to the window, there was this woman

shouting somethingI couldnt quick make out what it was and there was this

sudden flash and enormous bang, like a bomb had gone off. By the time I looked

out the window all I could see was several of the trees on my street burning and

a what looked like a car door lying in the middle of the street


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I turned off the TV and looked at Krystyna. What do you need to try

scrying again?

A bowl about half full of water. She said absently, fingering the rosary

she had pulled from a pocket. Her lips were moving soundlessly as her fingers

slipped over the beads, and only looked at me again after I had said her name

three times.

Yes? she said.

Bowl. Look.

She shook her head and stuffed the rosary down into her jean pocket.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, murmuring what

sound suspiciously like Russianno, it had to be Polishunder her breath,

and Looked into the bowl. Nothing happened for a few beats, and then all of a

sudden she gasped as if she had been slugged in the stomach, the bowl

cracked into several pieces, and she ran for the kitchen sink and puked.

Not a good sign.

She came back in, haggard and green.

What was that? I asked.

She shook her head, and looked greener.

I cant describe it, except it was the most horrible thing Ive ever seen.

Evil. Gleefully evil. And triumphant. Gloating. She looked at me, blue eyes

fearful. And Im positive that Ithas Kelly. We have to find her Calum. We have

to.

I considered. Let me grab my effects.

*

We pulled up on Krystynas motorcycle outside an older apartment

building in Northeast Portland, its cold blue neon sign lighting up the smallpatch of pavement in front of the place. I looked at it. Very not-impressive.

Faeries live here? I asked. Doesnt exactly seem like the kind of place

they would want to stay.

Krystyna smacked me on the back of the head.


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No, moron, not here. Whats the most pretentious place in Portland you

can think of?

The Mayors office?

Krystyna glared at me.

Coffeeshops? I paused. Wait. Seriously? Faeries live in a coffee shop?

Not in a coffee shop, Calum, she said. Please, dont be an idiot. But

one of the easiest doors to pass through to Underhill is in a coffee place just up

a block or two. You ever been to Coffee Time?

I laughed.

Youre seriously asking me if I go to coffee shops? Do I look like the kind

of person who frequents coffee places and drinks double venti soy latte mocha

latte things? I knew I should have worn my skinny jeans and pink cardigan!

You drink those girly coffee drinks from Dutch Brothers!

I drink Dutch Brothers because of a friend of mine, I said flatly. And I

dont want to talk about it.

She gave me a sidelong look, and dropped that train of thought.

I never mind. How much do you know about Underhill?

I thought for a second, dragging up the few things that my mother had

told me when she talked about herourworld.As far as I can remember, I said slowly, theres three kinds of Faerie

the Aos Sdhe from old Ireland, the Daoine Sdhe from old Scotland, and the

Tylwyth Teg from old Wales. The Aos Sdhe are generally more neutral when it

comes to humans, the Daoine Sdhe are either better or worse depending on if

theyre seelie or unseelie, and the Tylwyth Teg are just themselves, whatever

they feel like. I did hear that the Tylwyth Teg started the Wild Hunt, but my

mother didnt say much about that. A cold wind blew down the street,whisking up leaves from piles along the sidewalk. Krystina looked around

nervously.

That bad? I asked. She pursed her lips together and nodded tightly.


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Ok. Um. I focused on what I knew about the Fair Folk. They all prefer

euphemisms, like the Fair Folk, to being called faeries. They cant stand iron.

Time runs differently in their world

Worlds. Krystyna interjected.

Ok, worlds. They cant lie, they take oaths and stuff like that very

seriously thats about all I know. What do I need to know?

I was struck by the incongruity of my lifethree years ago I had been

doing patrols with the Afghan National Army looking for all kinds terrorists in

the hellish empty landscape of Afghanistan. Now I was walking down a tree-

lined street in upper-crust Portland, Oregon with my girlfriends twin sister

learning about faeries. At least the air wasnt thin enough to make me gasp for

breath and the weather was actually comfortable.

She wrinkled her nose in thought (just like her sister does, I thought

with a pang) and said, First off, they can lie, just like anyone else, but since

the culture seems to be so taken with oaths and bargains and the spoken

word, they rarely do. And Ive heard the ones that have lied have been

destroyed. Anything with iron it is poisonous to them immediately, like steels

and wrought iron sort of like coming into contact with extremely radioactive

material for usbut other metals like aluminum, brass, or titanium dont

bother them at all. She looked at me. Are you carrying anything on you thats

made out of steel or iron?

The slide of my pistol is steel, thats it.

She gave me another dubious look. Then dont leave it lying around. We

might need to go back at some point, and I dont want to be blamed for their

equivalent of Chernoble.

I tossed off a very loose salute, and drawled, Roger that maam.She stopped and looked at me. Glowered would probably be a better

term. Or scowled. Anything negative actually.

Calum, if youre not going to take this seriously, Im going to leave you

behind. Youre going to be able to help me, and if anything, youll make it worse


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and I wont be able to find anything out, and Ill never be able to find Kelly! This

is all your fault! she practically spat at me. Ok. Clear the air time.

Alright, Krystyna. I get it. You dont like me. Probably never will. Right

now, that means jack. I have been in more life or death situations than I care

to think about, and I will be damned if I let you leave me behind. Yes, I dont

know a lot about your world, but its my world now too, and that means I have

to live in it and deal with its people. I stepped in closer, lowered my voice, and

gave her Sergeants Glare no. 2 the Intimidator. And I will go Underhill, or to

Jotunnheim, or to Hell itself to bring back Kelly. Because I love her, Holy crap.

Did I just say that? And I will do anything to see her safe again. Now either

help me get her back, or get the hell out of my way.

Now, Im not a tall guy, just under six feet tall, and Krystyna was slightly

taller in her stylish boots, but I had one thing going for me that she didnt I

had stared into the abyss, and I had the scars to prove it. It must have shown

my eyes, because Krystyna looked away, and said, Alright. Youve made your

point. But follow my lead and dont pull any cowboy crap unless you have to.

I nodded once, and said, You got it, boss.

She rolled her eyes and started walking again.

We turned right around the corner on NW 21st and walked into CoffeeTime.

Its an interesting place, one of those places that are endemically

Portland in nature and tone. The whole place is painted in warm colors, all

based on orange, and there are murals on both side walls. The right hand one

was especially interesting, and I went to look at it while Krystyna waited for the

barista, in line behind a thin man with thick glasses and a brown checked

cardigan. The mural was interesting, and I had to wonder at the idea behind itStonehenge superimposed on the Pyramids of Giza.

Calum! Krystyna waved me over, key in her hand, and I heard her

thanking the barista for the key.

So. Is there a magic bathroom door we go through, I asked as we went

down a couple steps into the rear of the coffeehouse, Or something else?


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Very definitely something else, she said, and handed me the key. Hold

this for a minute will you? she requested. We need to make sure that we

wont be seen hopping through a door that doesnt exist. She whispered a

short phrase

I stared at her for a minute, hoping my brain would translate that into

something I could actually, theoretically, make sense of, but alas, that didnt

happen, I looked the key instead. It was heavy, looked to be made out of

something silveryconsidering the crowd I was part of now, it probably was

real silverwas about the length of my first finger, with a simple shank and bit

and a round head. The most interesting thing about it was that it was covered

in sinuous carvings, intricate and with detail almost too small to see, but taken

all together almost seemed to make the lines crawl over each other

particularly if you stared at them too long.

Krystyna plucked it from my hand, and walked over to the wall. She

waved her hand quickly over a portion of it and whispered something. I felt the

air stir and the plants painted on the wall writhed and grew higher on the wall,

twining around each other to create what looked like a doorway. Darkness

started to grow through the outline of a door, like an ink splotch soaking

through paper. In a few seconds, the, the entire doorway was dark, and I couldfeel a gentle breeze blowing on my face and smell the soft scent of trees. From a

door. That had only existed for a few seconds.

What a day.


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CHAPTER

Walking into a door that normally doesnt exist isnt something Im used

to. Yes, my mother was a hedge-witch, I grew up with a brounie doing most of

the housework, and I once met a dryad. Well, it was either a dryad or a

possessed tree. Still not quite sure which. But walking through a formerly solid

wall? Not something Id ever checked off my list so this was a marvelous

opportunity to grow personally and now, professionally.

Yay?

I stepped through.

It felt like we were in some sort of cave, or tunnel. The air had that odd,

musty, almost dead feel to it, and sound damped itself out instead of carrying.

Our footsteps had the flat sound of muffled stoneas if the clicks of Krystynas

shoes and the thuds of my boots were just absorbed into the walls. And there

were not-echoesa faint whisper of footsteps trailing half a breath behind our

own. Mildly creepifyin.

A few footsteps later, daylight washed over us, without seeing even a hint

of it approaching. I shook my head. This witchy business sure had surprises

up its sleeves. Always something unexpected. I made a mental note that Ishould really start anticipating stuff like this.

So this is Faery, I said as I turned around, taking a look around at

where we had emerged. Behind us was a large group of stones, stacked

carefully together. I recognized the general shape from the time my

grandparents had taken me to Irelanda dolmen, an ancient Stone Age grave.

Although this raised a question in the back of my mindif we came out of a

dolmen here in Faery, perhaps some or most of the dolmens in our own worldwere used as doorways between worlds then why didnt they work anymore?

Not really Faery, Krystyna said, interrupting my train of thought.

Saywhat now?

Faery is lost. This is an echo of it, or at least thats what the wizards a

dark look in my directionthink. Everything the Fair Folk say, when and if


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they say anything, lends the impression that at some point in the last

thousand years or so, Faery itself simply vanished, stranding Them in this

recollection of what Faery used to be. But this, this is simply Underhill. Here,

near us, its ruled by a Steward, who waits for the day that the lost High Kings

and Queens of Faery return.

LikeGondor?

Something like that, but with its own particular quirks. Some morefun

than others. The way she accented the word fun gave me an impression that

shed had experience with such quirks and didnt enjoy the experience

terribly. Ah here they come.

From the ring-fort in front of us, I could hear horns blowing, a sweet,

wild, brassy challenge, and could make out the main gates opening and a small

party coming out on horses, banners flapping in the wind.

She turned to me. The Good Folk are fickle at times, and they are very

alien, but they are also tremendously valuable sources of informationtheyre

the information brokers of the supernatural world. Not gossips, like some of the

Greek folk are, but their information is always reliableif hard to get.

I looked at her. Calling them brokers implies that a transaction will take

place. Whats our currency?Her shoulders slumped. I dont know, Calum. Im winging it here, and I

hate it. Her eyes were hollow. I dont know. But there has to be something I

can trade for informationI have to help my sister. I have to.

I grabbed her shoulder and gave her a tiny shake. Krys. Krys. She met

my eyes. We are going to do whatever is necessary to get your sister back. I

gave her a cocky grin that I didnt quite feel. If nothing else, Ill shoot

somebody in the face.She gave a shaky laugh and turned back to face the band of Faeries as

they pulled to a stop in front of us, putting on her cold, Polish Model Face

beautiful but remote. I figured it was one of the best ways we had to deal with

the Fair Folk, to echo them in their haughty ways, so I tried to as bland and

boring as possible. I figured being as unobtrusive as possible would be good, if


16/47

I ended up having to shoot someone. Surprise is always good. And could you

call a Faery a someone? Or was it a something? Hmm.

The lead rider pulled his horse to a stop in front of us, and I got my first

look at one of the Aos Sdhe. As he sat there, leering down at us, I couldnt get

the idea of a cat out of my mindall relaxed, fluid grace, a relaxed,

condescending way of looking at the world behind half-closed eyes. He was tall,

an inch or so taller than me, clean-shaven with long white hair just past his

shoulders, and brilliant green eyeswith cat like pupils. Hoo boy. His limbs

were long, and his fingers graceful. He wore a green tunic the color of new-

mown grass, and brown pants. A belt was around his waist, holding a thin,

sheathed sword, that looked like rapier or some sort of dueling blade. The rest

of the party were similar in style, coloring, dress, and armament.

I shifted my weight back slightly and hooked a thumb into my belt. I

didnt like the way they enclosed us in a circle, watching us with their

mysterious cat-pupiled eyes. Made me twitchy. Krystyna, however, didnt look

fazed. She merely nodded regally and nearly as contemptuously at the Faery

and waited.

What are your designs here, mortal? he demanded imperiously. His

voice, for all its melody and lilt, dripped condescension. Krystyna either didnt

notice, or didnt care her voice was just as sweet and patronizing.

We come seeking guidance from the Steward of the Aos Sdhe regarding

a recent matter in our world. I would ask that you give us leave to pass on our

errand.

He sneered. It was a fine sneer. What do mortal matters concern us,

little mortal caster? I have no wish for you to be here. He switched his

attention to me. And who are you? I know you not. Speak your name, andquickly.

Id about had it with the pompous little weasel. I gave my best thousand-

yard glare, and said as calmly as I could, Mise Calum McNamara. Gus cad is

ainm duit, a fhear beag? There was a rustle of surprise from the other Sdhe.


17/47

Aha. Faeries could get red from anger. He leaped off his horse and

stalked over to me, rigid in apoplexy. Beside me, Krystyna turned a little paler.

Even though she probably didnt understand a word I had just said, she got the

fact I had just royally pissed off the gatekeeper and our way in.

Little? he hissed, You dare call me little, mortal? I, who hold the keys

to the Gates of the Steward? I, the

I cut him off and switched back to English for Krystynas sake. Yes, I

did. Now shut up. If he could swell anymore, I think he did. Although he did

shut up. Weve come to see the Steward. Not you. And if I remember the laws

that the Silver-Handed laid down, if someone comes treating, youre to treat

them as a guest, for as long as they stay, or a year and a dayan bhfuil sin n

mar sin? His eyes slitted, and he gave a curt nod after a moment. Probably a

moment of trying to figure out how to refuse us, or how to kill usor both.

Probably both. He spun on his heel, mounted, and gestured for us to get

astride behind two other Faeries.

In a few moments, we had entered the gates of the ring fort and were led

into the main hall in the center. I made a small noise as we enteredof the

wow this is grand sort.

The Hall of the Steward stretched out in front of us for at least close to ahundred yards. It looked like it was made from a kind of pale green marble,

with pale streaks. The roof was from a white stone, supported by pillars that

formed a sort of passage way to the other end of the hall. Along the walls were

brilliant tapestries that told tales of hunts, wars, and epic deeds as best I could

tell.

Apparently, all who desired to meet the Steward were to proceed down

this corridor under the eyes of everyone else who were arrayed along the edgesof the hall, between the walls and the rows of pillars. The people there were all

tall, graceful folk, mostly dressed in long tunics, breeches and cloaks of various

colors. Beautiful too, with fair skin, fair hair, with cat-eyes in a wild riot of

colors and delicately tapered ears that brought to mind the flicking ears of a

cat watching a mouse. Also in presence were weaponsmost prominent of


18/47

which were swords, no longer than the length of my arm, and likely shorter,

with anthropomorphic hilts, and leaf bladed spears a head or two taller than

their wielder. Shields were hung in rows along the walls, with some of the Fair

Folk slinging them on their backs, or leaning them against their legs.

Apparently the People of the Hills hadnt progressed beyond when the Celts had

left Switzerland and La Tene behind.

Krys and I strode up the hall toward the thrones at the far end. As we got

closer, I saw there were three chairs, two larger ones, inlayed gold and inlayed

silver, and a smaller one that looked like it was made out of wicker. In the

wicker seat was what looked like an elderly Faeryif he had been human I

would have pegged him at around a spry 60 or 70. He looked up as we drew

near, and considered us. His eyes were clear and green, the color of corn

growing in June, and his face was regal and impassive as we drew to a stop

several paces away.

What is it you seek, Krystyna Nowaczek and Calum McNamara? Why

have you come to us?

We glanced at each other, and Krys spoke. We come seeking

information, my Lord Steward. His eyes sharpened.

Information? he purred. Information about what, word-casters? Whatcould we, the People of the Mounds, have knowledge of that would interest you,

the people who order the fires of creation?

Krys took a deep breath.

We come for information about my betrothed, sir, I said, once again

going where angels fear to tread, and butting in before Krys had a chance to

say anything. She was stolen away, and no amount of our art can pierce the

veil that has been placed about her. I silently blessed my mother and thedrilling she had done on the correct way to address the Fair Folkas well as

the vast amounts of Austen and Restoration literature she knocked into my

headthe syntax and word choice had a way of getting into ones head. We

have come to ask a boon of the People of the Mounds, who are known as both

wise and generous, to help us find and bring her home again.


19/47

The Steward steepled his fingers together and smiled a closed lip half

smile. We of the Hills have many sources of information, but when information

flows out, something must flow back as well to redress the balance. What do

you have, young mageling, which could be used to redress this in-equity?

I considered.

What if I could return to you one of the four lost Treasures of the Tuatha

D Danann? I asked.

UPDATE: revise above to include denial of service, remove the chalice(?)

but add the fact that the Sdhe owe(d) Calums Father a debt and gave Calum

power/unlocked his potentialhe DOESNT WANT THIS father issues.

Exit the dolmen closer to the gate as well.

CHAPTER


20/47

There was utter silence in the Hall. I could feel the pressure of several

hundred inhuman eyes pressing against me, and I knew that if something went

wrongif I was wrongI wouldnt survive for very much longer. Or at least I

wouldnt want to.

The Steward rose from his chair. He was lean, like the rest of them, but

tall, imposing, and I was reminded again that the Sdhe were most definitely

not human as his regard rested on me, like a naked blade resting against my

neck. His voice was soft.

Iftruly you could deliver such a thingthat would be a debt hard to

repay. You had best hope that you are able to deliver on your words, young

McNamaraor the fiefs of the Courts of the Sdhe would be displeased with

you.

I gulped slightly. Nothing like a little pressure. I reached carefully into

the messenger bag that I had grabbed as I left my apartment and pulled out

the small chalice that had been my fathers many years ago, according to my

mother, and that was possibly, just possibly, one of the lost Treasures of the

Tuatha D Danannthe rulers of the Fair Folkas well as being a major point

of contention between Kelly and myself. It was common rumor that they had

disappeared at the same time the Tuatha D had. Some thought that thetreasures were taken by the Tuatha, others thought the loss of the treasures

led to the sundering of Tr na ng from Underhill and our worldI merely

hoped I wasnt about to die slowly and horribly.

The chalice caught the light in the Hall, and reflected it back in myriads

of colors, from the jewels set in it, from the knot work carved and overlaid onto

the body of the chalice, and from the slightly disturbing etchings of beings

running around the base of the bowl. I felt it reverberate, slightly, and justonce, in my hand as I held it out to the Steward, and I knew that this was

indeed the Cauldron of the Dagda. And it knew that it was home.

I held it out to the Steward, who stared at it like a man entranced. Sir,

take back that which is rightfully yours.


21/47

He carefully took it from me and then held it up above his head in both

hands and shouted something in a rippling alien language. The hall roared.

He turned and placed it reverently on one of the golden thrones arms,

and turned back to us.

What can the Courts of the Sdhe do for you, Calum McNamara, after

you have returned to us that which was deemed lost for ever. We are in your

debt. We will give you what help we can now, and if ever you need the aid of the

Courts of the Sdhe, we will answerbut thrice only. Use this gift well, Calum

McNamara. He called for a ewer of water, poured it into the chalice, and stared

into the water for a moment.

He turned to me, his face grave. What I am able to tell you is this: Your

betrothed is alive. That which has her is old, far older than any of us, save

perchance our lost kings and queens, and it thirsts for destruction. It is vile.

My stomach sank. For the Good Folk to say that meant that this was bad. Very

bad. We cannot help you in this our arts are not capable of withstanding this

Power. Nor can we tell you where to seek it.

My advice is this, young mage. Do not strive against this Thing, for you

will surely fail. But if you must pursue it, find the Coven. They are creatures of

blackness, and I believe that there you may find something more helpful. He

held up his hand, as if in benediction. Sln abhaile, Calum g.

I bowed my head, and we turned to leave. Crap. Vampires. What did it

always have to be vampires?

*

It was cold and foggy when we stepped outside the coffee-house. The

trees twisted their way out of the murk, limbs slipping in and out of view with

the curls of mist. It was a despondent, eerie, and generally creepifying time ofnight to be out. I stared out through the fog, not really seeing the vague shapes

of cars, the occasional pedestrian, the mutant spider-forms of the trees lining

the street.

A raven croaked in the mist.


22/47

Krys stepped out next to me and shoved her hands deep into her

pockets. Now what? she asked.

Now we go find the local coven, I replied grimly.

You cant be serious! she said. No-one seeks out the vampires unless

they have a death wish or have some weird fetish about blood and leather or

are obsessed with glitter!

I looked down the street, watching as a small car of the hybrid sort

whirred by and said, You heard what the Steward said. He said the Coven

would be a good place to find information. You know the leeches are some of

the darkest kinds in the local community. And you know that whatever you

scryed was evil. If nothing else, theyre wary of some new predator on their

turf. I sighed, and looked at her. Im not going to let a bunch of leeches, no

matter how creepy they are, keep me from finding Kelly. She looked away from

me, up the street towards Burnside, and folded her arms. I waited. She looked

down, and said quietly, Alright. But I still think this is stupid.

If its stupid and it works, then it aint stupid, I retorted.

Of course, sometimes stupid is just gonna be stupid no matter what.

*

Vampires are predators. Pack hunters, in some ways. I dont know what

part of Hell spawned them, but the Fallen One must have enjoyed making them

up. Theyll lull you into a sense of safety, of well being, of complacence, and

then youll suddenly have four or five of them slurping your blood. I dont know

how they do it, some sort of glamour, or pheromone, or something, but I knew

we didnt have much time before our own defenses started wearing down, so I

was determined to get in and get as much info out of them as I could as quickly

as I could.I stopped in the shadow of the building next door, and as unobtrusively

as I could, un-holstered my gun and press-checked to see if there was still a

round in the pipe. There was.

What is it, Calum? Krys asked. I frowned. Maybe


23/47

Have you ever had dealings with vampires before? I asked. She shook

her head.

All I know is that they have some sort of drug or spell that puts you into

a stupor so they can feed on you.

I made a face. Yeah, something like that. Is there anyway you might be

able to set up a blocking or interference sort of spell? Something that might

help keep our heads clear long enough for us to get in, get intel, and get out?

It was her turn to frown, with a far-away look in her eyes, like she was

mentally combing through the files in her mind of things she could try. She

nodded, decisively, and asked, Do you have a water bottle, or something

similar, in your bag?

I did. She took the bottle, uncapped it, and poured no more than a caps

worth into her palm. She carefully handed the bottle back to me, took her

index finger, and drew a small circle through the water clockwise, whispering

something under her breath. She then flicked a few droplets in my face, and in

hers, and said, Bd! I felt a tingle flicker across my skin, and then it was

gone.

I looked at her, and remarked wryly, I hope you know what youre

doing. She sighed, and said, Me too. But the more pressing question is doyou?

I looked at her, half hidden from the street lights and the neon glow of

the bars by the half-alleyway we were in, and felt my face stretch into a bitter

half-smile.

Me? Plan? You know I dont plan. Thats one of the reasons you arent

fond of me, isnt it? She flipped a dismissive hand at me. Beyond doing

whatever it takes to get Kelly back, I have no plan. All I ask right now is youwatch my back, I continued, And make sure they dont try to create an

opportunity for munchies. The entrance to the local coven is through a

underground bar in Portland. Much like the way into Underhill, it is a hidden

door. Here, its a door to an erstwhile storage closet. Admittedly, its a storage

closet that also has a very stylized M scratched above the doorknob that looks


24/47

a lot like fangs in a mouth. You had to hand it to the vampires. They certainly

knew how to do subtle.

We were in luck, however. It was Friday night on Halloween weekend,

and every place in the city was packed with revelers in varying stages of

costume and inebriation. What with the pinball machines, the music, the

screaming in place of talking due to the music, the dim light, and the fact that

everyone probably wouldnt remember seeing us in the first place, I felt

confident just barging in.

So we barged in.

Well, more like I opened the storage room door, we stepped in, took

another step where reality blurred for a second, and then I kicked in a fancy

but completely useless second door, gun in hand.

Man, that was cathartic.

My pistol was up and tracking through the room, the little red dot

sweeping across all the people in the room, freezing them where they were as it

flickered across them. I love lasers. Slap one on a gun and the instant anyone,

mortal or immortal, sees that little red circle of light flickering on their chest

they suddenly lose all compunction to do really nasty things. At least until they

believe the balance of power is back on their side.It was silent in there with what felt like hundreds of pairs of eyes

gleaming back at me from shadows. The roomno, wait, roomswere lit by

dim red lamps scattered randomly throughout, with black lights splashing

sudden highlights throughout, picking out the alabaster of somethings skin, or

the phosphorescent gleam of eyes staring at me and Krys. The place was

draped in rich fabrics, velvets and brocades and silks, all in deep reds, blacks,

and blues, giving the place an air of lush and decadent sensuality. The air wascloying, rich with a dozen illicit smells. I narrowed my eyes. Like it or not, I

knew where I stood with the vampires. They were predators, just like me.

I let them look at me there for a second, a narrow wolfish figure with

plain features and a brown coat and what probably seemed like a really big gun


25/47

with a long line of flickering red fire that reached out and caressed various

figures as I swept my gaze across the room.

Time to be imposing.

Where is the Master of this Coven? I would have words with him! I

roared in my best drill sergeant nasty voice. I was gratified to see several flinch

as I dropped my pistol to my side and clicked off the laser.

A shadow detached itself from the wall and glided towards me. It resolved

into an elderly looking man, gaunt and angular, with the sort of neat and

carefully groomed presentation you expect from politicians, James Bond, or

billionaire playboys bent on avenging their parents. Or in this case, a vampire.

He wasnt Orlokno grotesque spider-like talons, bulging eyes, or bald

pate. He was dapper in a slightly dated way, with an aquiline nose and

patrician featureslike a businessman from the twenties who could trace his

family line back several centuries to the merchants of Venice. However, it was

his eyes that were the most arresting thing about him. They were deadiris

bleached to bone white with the slight ring surrounding it giving the only

definition between it and the whites of his eyes. I couldnt tell in the light, but I

had this feeling that ring was the color of dried blood.

He stopped in front of me and gave a slight, mocking, half-bow.I am called Lucius. What can the Morningstar Coven do for the

esteemed Calum McNamara and Krystyna Nowaczek? His words felt slippery

in my ears. So I glared at him. Unfortunately that didnt faze him. Undead

bastard.

Krys stepped up beside me, platinum hair looking like a sheet of bloody

fire in the half-light of the den. Thats what this reminded me of an opium

den.We come seeking information about an abducted witch, and we have

heard that the Morningstar Coven may be able to assist us. If you or any of

yours holds information, we ask that you divulge it

Lucius smiled. And what would you offer the Coven in exchange the

world runs on balance, my dear hedge-witch. His voice dripped with scorn.


26/47

And I hardly see you as the type which has much in exchange for such a

weightysubject, I am afraid we simply will not be able to do business together.

His eyes darkened slightly. Unless, of course, you are willing to offer

something ofsignificancein return particularly in recompense for the insult

you have shown us in assaulting our home. His voice trailed off as he ran his

eyes over Krys, like someone evaluating a cow theyre buying for beef. There

was a stirring in the background behind him as the more active members of

the Coven, the vampires, moved themselves closer, like sharks and the scent of

blood in the water. Hoo boy. I pulled my left hand up to my stomach and slowly

brought up my gun to rest over the top of my left hand.

And if we do not agree to such an exchange? I mildly asked of Lucius. I

was not about to let Kellys sister become a blood-slave to the local leech

squad.

Then we must acknowledge that sometimes, regrettable as they are,

accidents do sometimes happen, he said, just as mildly. One of the vampires

to my left, a woman in black and red brocade with sleek brunette hair and lips

as red as sin, darted towards Krys with her fangs growing and another, a male

in S&M inspired leather lunged at me.

Finally.My hands blurred forward and I loosened my knees, dropping into a

slight crouch with my arms lock straight in from of me, gun and shoulders

forming the points of a long and dangerous pyramid. A red dot flickered into

existence on his torso and my Glock thundered once, twice, thrice, the angry

thunderclap deafening in the enclosed space and the lightening of the muzzle-

flash searing the eyes. Some vampires cried out at the sudden actinic light,

while two black blotches appeared in the males chest, with a third just at thebase of his throat. He relaxed and finished his lunge as a boneless heap on the

floor as I traversed and put four more rounds into another leech attempting to

latch onto Krys from behind. He stopped, stared at me, and reached back as if

to remove my head with a backhand swing, and I put two more rounds into his

face. He dropped.


27/47

There were a few moments of simple engagementif close quarters

combat can ever be truly called simple. Engage, acquire target, engage, rinse,

repeat. Then I had a wonderful moment of sheer panicmy trigger went

mushy and there was no bang. Thank God for trainingI brought the pistol

closer to my body, dropped the empty magazine out, slammed a new one with

the hell of my hand, slingshotted the slide forward and put four more rounds

into a vampire closing on Krys.

In the meantime, she had done some work of her own. Two vampiresI

should say vampiric remainswere slumped on the floor, with what looked like

holes melted all the way through the torso. There was a headless corpse, a

couple that looked like they had been impaled by granite spikes that rose out of

the floor, and one trapped in a whirling globe of water.

There was movement off to my right again, and I started to swerve to

engage when Krys shouted something sibilant in Polish Spali w wietle! (I

really was going to have to ask about that) and the vampire that had been in

the act of leaping on me combusted in a blinding flash. The rest of the coven

cried out and stopped what they were doing, cowering against the flash of light

that had dissolved Kryss attacker into floating ashes.

What exactly did you do? I whispered to Krys, dropping the partially

used magazine into my left hand and swapping it for the full one that I held. I

dropped the pistol to low ready and dumped the partial mag into a coat pocket.

She shrugged. Just a little combat craft.

Huh. I looked around at the carnage. And the rest of this?

Improvisation, she said, breathing heavily. Magic takes it out of you

when you sling around the kind of power that created the universe (the one

explanation of what magic is that didntsound like complete hokum) theresalways backlasha reckoning. There were always stories of people who tried to

do too much and died. Usually pretty horribly.

The remainders of the coven were dead, well, deader, or scattered to the

wind. Except for the one that Krys had locked, spread-eagled, in a big globe of

water. I wondered briefly if we could market that to the Gothic crowdyour


28/47

very own vampiric snow-globe! Only $14.99 plus shipping and handling! I

shook my head. I could go crazy later.

The place was quiet, except for our breathing, some slight sizzling

sounds from the leech that Krys had fried extra-crispy, and some sloshing from

the globe. I edged around pillars, and kicked in doors, while Krystyna waited

out in the main room with our guest.

I shook my head when I came back. Its empty theres no-one here. All

the thralls, bloodslaves, leechesgone. Good thing you grabbed one. I looked

at the struggling leech thoughtfully as he slowly rolled upside down. Can they

drown? I asked.

She shook her head. Calum, they dont need to breathe. I do imagine its

somewhat uncomfortable, however.

I sighed and said, Alright, at least uncover his head so we can actually

interrogate him. She brought her hands together, then slowly opened them

like a book and the water peeled back from the vampires head like Moses

parting the Red Sea.

His way of thanking us was to hiss from behind his canines.

I crouched down in front of him and calmly remarked, You sound like

either a leaky bicycle tire, or a cat how just found somebody sitting in itsfavorite chair in the sun. I met his eyes. This can go two ways you tell us

what we need to know, you get out of here with nothing wrong with you other

than needing a towel. Or you dont, and we improvise.

His dead white eyes considered me, and he nodded once, slowly.

I have your word that if I give you what help I can, you will let me go,

unharmed? he asked warily.

I nodded. No need to make this place messier than it already is. Youhave my word.

What is it you wish to know, mortals? he rasped.

A witch Kelly Nowaczek - was kidnapped. We want to know who did it,

and where she is, I said.


29/47

He chortled. All you desire is to know where a missing hedge witch is?

Of all the things you ask of me, and this is it?

I stared at him. I fail to see what you find amusing.

He smirked. Cheeky bugger. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you who took

the hedge-witch, or why, or where she is. What I am able to tell you is there

have been rumors flying around the dark belly of this citythat one of the Old

Ones has come here. I do not know why, he said, stalling my next set of

questions, or where, or even if One is still here, but I do not doubt that would

be a reasonable direction to search.

Krys dragged me away for a second and the water rolled over the

vampires head again.

Do you have anyidea what hes talking about? she hissed.

I shook my head. I hated being clueless sometimes.

She looked at me, and I saw something that made stomach do a flip.

Krystyna was scared. Extremely scared. She looked around, arms crossed

tightly in front of her, like she was expecting something to simply leap out and

drag her into its lair.

Hes talking about one of the beings that created his entire race hes

talking about the Fallen, Calum.Oh.

Shit.

CHAPTER

The Fallen. Im sure youve heard of them, or at the very least one of

themSatan. The Devil. Lucifer Morningstar. Ole Scratch. Etc. The Fallen are

angels exiled from heaven, the ones who followed Lucifer against God, who


30/47

walk this world to and fro, wreaking misery and evil wherever their footsteps

land.

And apparently also the forefathers of the vampires. Which really

explains a lot.

I turned back to the Vampiric Snow-Globe . Kelly hurriedly pulled back

the water from his head, and I leaned in.

What in the name of the Almighty he hissed and tried to jerk away

from me - is one of the Fallen doing with a witch? A witch who owns a bagel

shop and does interior decorating on the side?

The water rippled by the vampires neck. I think he was trying to shrug.

I do not know, he said, perhapsHades needs a better color scheme?

I didnt appreciate that, so I let him know exactly what I thought in

exquisite detail until Krys hauled me off. I let her know that I didnt appreciate

that as well, although I think what mostly came out of my mouth was

inarticulate sounds of rage. I also struggled. Or I did until I was suddenly on

my hands and knees trying to get my vision back and shaking my head to try

and get the ringing out of my ear.

Krys was leaning in my face, and her face was a rictus of anger and fear.

Get it together, Calum, she snapped, We cant afford for you to destroy our

only lead! Pull. Yourself. Together!

Did you just slapme?

She glared at me, her anger a film over the sick horrifying fear that was

welling up inside her, and tossed her hair. Who does that?

Yes, and so help me God, there was a sound of protest and possibly a

sizzle, I will do it again and again, until you get control of yourself!

I shook my head again woozily. She might look like a skinny Polishmodel, but man, she could hit like a freight train. Wow.

Alright, I said, alright. You ask the questions, though. At least I was

still sane enough to use some common sense, so I sat back against an

overturned sofa-lounge-chaise thingie and watched as Krys went back to talk

to the leech.


31/47

I exhaled. What was I doing? I was supposed to be the professional. The

killer. The baby-murder. The guy who lies down and watches streets out of a

tiny hole in a wall until someone tries to blow other people up and puts a fatal

hole in them. All I was supposed to feel was recoil, right?

And for a while, I did. I was able to put stuff in a box, I was able to be

relatively normal when I was on leave, when I was around normal people I

could be almost like them. But then Jimmy and I got sent with Schmidts 3rd

platoon out to reinforce a small detachment from the 10th Mountains 3rd BCT

and everything went to hell.

Sitting there in the underground leech-house, leaning up against a pillar

cloaked in velvet, I could still smell the dust of Afghanistan, cordite blood.

Some people think that if you dont get PTSD from war, then youre a monster.

Then they think youre about to turn into a monster when you do get it. They

all could be right. I dont know. All I know is everything changed the day I lost

my best friend.

And now Kelly, the one bright spot in my life, was gone. The girl who I

adored with every fiber of my soul, who was the reason I had quite drinking,

the reason the night-terrors only came once or twice a month, instead of every

nightwho had, quite probably, saved me from utter ruinwas gone.Kidnapped. And the world I had turned my back on for years was the reason

she was gonein danger.

Krys sat down in front of me, cross-legged. I looked upthe snow-globe

was gone and the vampire was nowhere to be seen. I sighed, and rubbed my

face with my hand.

Did you manage to get any information from him? I asked.

She nodded. And its both better and worse than we thought.I gave her a Look. She ignored it and expounded. The good: apparently

the Old Ones arent the Fallen. They are simply some sort of being that was

twisted by Them when They were kicked out of heaven. The bad news is that

the Old Ones are essentially horrors. Things you cant explain and that break

your mind I interrupted. Yes, horrible manners, but I think the situation


32/47

called for a more fluid version of Miss Manners. So essentially the Old Ones

are Cthulthu and its cousins. She gave me a blank look. I sighed and flapped

a hand at her to continue.

Anyways the only other thing he said was that one of these Old Ones

is in the city, and its looking for someone. That its hunting for someone. And

that It might be the reason behind Kellys abduction.

I rubbed the bridge of nose. So, basically, Kelly was taken by some sort

of utterly alien abomination thats searching for someone. There were no clues

as to who the Thing wants? Or why?

She shook her head. Marcus didnt know.

Marcus. Flatly.

Yes, Marcus.

I sighed again. This was not the time or place to get into some argument

about personhoodlet alone whether or not leeches were appropriate objects

of affection.

Moving on

Please.

We need to find this Old One. If it is the thing behind Kellys

kidnapping, we find it, we find her. So all we have to do is find some reallyancient cosmic horror and stop it from terrorizing the city and from killing or

destroying some random person. Not hard at all.

I thought for a second. Wait a sec. If this Old One is so mind-bendingly

horrible, why hasnt there been any reports anywhere of eople going

spontaneously insane?

Krys shrugged. I dont know. Maybe it has lackeys to do its will for the

time being.Makes sense, I said. I hauled myself to my feet, and extended a hand to

Krys to help her up. She rose gracefully to her feet on her own. So we start

hunting a cosmic horror. I looked at Krys carefully. You ever been hunting

before? I asked. She gave a Look. I think it was basically equal parts You Have


33/47

Got To Be Kidding mixed with What Kind Of Idiot Are You. There was possibly

something else in there too, but Ive never been particularly good at subtle.

Ill take that as a no. Rule number one: know your prey. What do we

know of the Old Ones other than theyre monstrous? She shrugged helplessly.

I dont know, Calum. I dont exactly make it my point to know everything there

is to know about creatures that are fundamentally wrong and drive people

insane just by existing. There isnt much call for that kind of thing in an

emergency room.

OK, I said, Three things. One, point taken. Two, we find someone who

does or at least has a better clue than we do at the moment. Three, Im really

glad youve foundsarcasm.

Krys crossed her hands underneath her chin dramatically.

Oh, Calum, Im soglad that youre here to help me with these things!

Youre not getting bonus points.

Le sigh.

I snorted. Either I was about to die, or Krys was starting to loosen up

around me. I shook my head, and asked her as we made our way out, So, out

of everyone in the local community, who do you think would know the most

about big brain-breaking nasties?She was quiet for a moment while we made our way through the

Halloween Party 2011, 11:50PM version. Once we were outside and could

actually hear ourselves above the music, she said, The only person I could

think of, besides the vampires, would be the Man in the White Tower.

Alright so we go visit the man wait. What? Is this like some weird

Portland version of the damsel in distress locked up in an ivory tower guarded

by a big nasty dragon? I was mildly flummoxed.She shook her head, chuckled and said, No. Hes one of those wizards

that like to stay up in their perfect little tower and ponder deep things, and

invent complicated ideas about why magic works the way it does. And then

she just kind of sagged and leaned against a lamppost.


34/47

Here, I said, nibble on this. Itll take the edge off, and held out a

Hersheys bar. Also, take some deep breaths. Take a moment.

She took it the candy bar with shaking hands, and asked, between bites,

Is this normal? Ive never felt like this before

I smiled slightly. Yeah, its common. Adrenaline does funny things.

Chocolate helps the ease the edge away. And I hear it does wonders for

dementors. She gave a shaky half smile.

We were quiet for a moment, the heavy thump of music pulsing up from

the clubs, the sound of traffic slowly going by, a siren across the river. All the

sounds of normal human existence. I envied people who didnt need to worry or

think about things that went bump in the nightwhether they were

supernatural or not.

I sighed. Where are we supposed to find this dude in his ivory tower?

White tower.

Whatever. Where is he?

She shrugged. I dont exactly know. Its generally somewhere up in the

Sylvan hills. We have to go someplace where I can Scry for it.

Its not a fixed location? I asked.

Sort of. Its always somewhere high up, and its usually been in the

Sylvan Hills area, but its not an exact science. And I need to get out of these

clothes. She gestured to herself, embarrassed. Her jacket was splattered with

blood and ripped in a few spots, along with her blouse and jeans.

I quirked an eyebrow. Well, I admit its not your usual poised and

elegant self, but its got an Amazonian flair to it, particularly considering how

you got all of it.

She flapped a hand at me. The blood is at least mostly your fault, whatwith all the bodies and heads exploding. She swallowed.

I grabbed her shoulder and shook it gently. Krys. Hey, Krys. I shook it a

little harder until she looked up at me, her eyes wide and not quite focused.

Hey! Her eyes focused on me. Stop this right now. A lot of horrible stuff just


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happened. But we dont have time to stop and let it get to us. Kelly needs us, so

we need to hold it together until shes safe, ok?

She was quiet for a moment, and then whispered, How?

Crap. I should have thought about this better. I was so used to her being

such a royal pain in the arse, haughty, disapproving, and being an ER Nurse

for crying out loud, I didnt think about what going hot might be for her. I bent

down and looked at her. You focus on Kelly. You focus on your sister, because

she needs you to be strong. And when we get her backthen you can deal with

this in the best way you can. But right now, you push it down, because thats

the only way you are going to be able to function.

She sniffed and said, Ok. But I think you should drive.

Drive a scooter? My life was just a roller-coaster of fun times!

CHAPTER

Krystina lived in a nice apartment (or condo or whatever the current

thing was) in the waterfront area, off Harbor Way, just north of the Marquam

Bridge. In fact it was too niceit was probably a bit bigger than the place I

lived in (not hard), the woodwork was extremely good, the carpets were soft, the

tile was real, the appliances were steel and burnished brightbut it felt empty.Almost like a place that was no more than a bed and sometime eating place

than an actual home. It probably didnt help that there wasnt much furniture,

what there was look expensive, and very definitely not often used.

There was a small wood case on the top of the mantel. Inside was a

folded American flag. A small brass plaque read Sgt James T Stevensfrom a


36/47

Grateful Country. There was a picture next to itthree people, a young man in

uniform, with an open, merry face, and two girls, one short with red hair and

one taller with pale blonde hair. I sighed.

I wandered out onto the small deck, and looked out at the river and

downstream to where the trusses of the Hawthorne Bridge were picked out in

lights and the neon green of the Bank of America Center flared out against the

rest of the city. Somewhere in the middle of all this was a creature out of some

sort of horror story hunting some poor defenseless bastard who probably didnt

even know that such things existed beyond the pages of a book.

And how in Gods name was I supposed to kill this thing?

There was a tap on the glass behind me, and I turned to see Krys coming

out to join me. She joined me at the rail, looking out over the city.

He talked a lot about you, you know.

I so did not want to have this conversation right now, but I made a noise

that could have gone either way.

I was so bitter when he died, you know, she said, her tone reflective. I

hated youfor living when my brother died, for being the one who came home,

this guy who he thought the world of. And then you and Kelly hit it off, and I

worried for her. Shes always been the one who fixes people who sees the bestin people and does her best to help them live up what she sees their potential

to be. And thats gotten her heart broken so often. And here you were, my dead

brothers best friend, a man with more demons than he knew what to deal

with, and she knew you could be a wonderful man, a great man. She sighed.

And for me you were always the man who came home instead of Jimmy. The

guy who was going to break my sisters heart.

And now I have no choice to rely on you, because my sister is out there,somewhere, being held captive by monstrosity that has no name. You still came

home without Jimmy, but youre not as bad as I thought. She took a deep

breath. Im sorry.

I looked back out over the water. That explained a lot, and I cant say as I

blamed her. Lord knows I blame myself for that a lot too.


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Its ok, Krys, I said tiredly. Its water under the bridge. Have you tried

scrying for the man were looking for?

She nodded. Its a good thing I did, too. Hes not on the west-side

anymore. Hes out on Rocky Butte, over by 205. And as far as I could tell, hes

still awake.

I rubbed my hands together. Alright, I said, Lets go pay him a visit.

*

A scooter ride through the East Side of Portland, on a foggy and chill

night in fall, is definitely an experience. Im not sure whether its a good

experience, or a bad one, but it definitely is one. We drove across the

Hawthorne bridge, the orange lights from the Morrison reflecting off the waters

on our left and the metal grate of the bridge humming under our tires.

Once past Grand, the trees and houses along Stark Street started

looming out of the fog as we putted east. Pizza place, coffee shop, nursing home

or adult care or whatever they called themselves these daysall were vague

shadows in the mist, indistinct copies of the normal, sunlit, world. It certainly

didnt do anything for my peace of mind, knowing that some eldritch

abomination was on the loose in the city, hunting someone for some unknown

reason.No. Mycity. I might not be some kind of massive and dangerous

spellcaster or wizardy type, like those Chicago-based books, or the Chosen

One, like Potter, but maybe thats what the Steward had meant when he

whispered in my ear. Bloody Faeries. Never coming out and saying something

in plain English. It was enough to drive a man insane.

The trees closed in around us, bare and spidery in the gloom, the orange

glow of streetlights twisting the world through the fog, and I couldnt help butfeel a cold knot of foreboding start to tighten in my stomach. We cut north,

around the bulk of Mt Tabor, and then turned onto the auto mall of 82nd

Avenue. Admittedly, it was very early in the morning (the glow from my watch

told me it was about 1:45), but traffic was very light. And it was getting lighter

the farther north we were going.


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I have a bad feeling about this, I muttered to myself.

What? Krys yelled back at me.

Nothing! I shouted back. It had to be nothing. Just bad memories

coming back up, brought out by the crack of gunfire and the smell of cordite. I

swore I could hear the sputtering sizzle of RPGs no. Just the whisper of wind

past my ears. I tried to get my heart rate back down and get my focus back. I

didnt need to start having flashbacks again, particularly not while Im sitting

exposed on the back of a Vespa.

There was a sharp left turn, and we started going up a winding hillside

road. The trees got closer, crowding out everything else. For a few moments it

was like we were traveling up a tunnel full of grasping arms. And the knot of

foreboding in the pit of my stomach was getting tighter and colder.

Finally we were up at the top of the hill. Wed passed a lot of very nice

houses on the way up, all packed together for the views. I would have expected

them to have a party or two going on, even considering that it was pretty late

and only Saturday evening (well, Sunday morning) it was very quiet. The

houses were dark and quiet and still. There was no wind, and there were no

other cars parked anywhere.

At the top of the hill was an elliptical wall, with a set of stairs climbingup the northeast side. It felt like a modern interpretation of an old Celtic fort.

In the middle was a square black fence, mostly concealed in bushes and

surrounding a small metal tower holding a small Doppler dish. Fog was

everywhere, tendrils wrapping around the lights and hiding the city from view.

I looked around. I didnt see a tower anywhere. Heck, I didnt see

anything that looked out of the ordinary.

So I said.Krys sighed.

Youre going to have to learn how to see whats really there if you want

to get more involved in the community, she said, handing me a small jar of

purplish Vaseline.


39/47

I bounced it in my hand a couple times, and asked, What exactly am I

supposed to do with this?

Wipe a little bit on your eyelids.

Oh. Duh.

I wiped some on, and screwed the lid back on. When I looked up, the

radar tower was gone. In its place was a tall circular tower straight out of

Rapunzels fairy tale. It was made out of pale stone, looked like very smooth

limestone, or maybe some kind of marble, and nicely fitted together. There was

a small door set into the base, a simple, arched, dark wooden door, like

something you would expect to find on a Tudor styled house or an old English

cottage. The very top spread out, like the Space Needle, and looked like it

belonged in a Disney film, with tall, thin, leaded windows, at least one gabel

dormer, and a sharply pointed tile roof with a small stone chimney and .. was

that a TV antenna? I really hoped he wasnt a Days of Our Lives kinda guy,

otherwise there could be issues.

I looked around again. The place was empty. No breeze, no sound except

for the faint mist-dampened sounds of the interstate just below us, no people

save Krys and myself and whoever was in the tower.

I didnt like it. The quiet it was almost too quiet, like the calm rightbefore an IED goes off under your Humvee when all the locals have scattered

because they know that something horrible is about to happen. It made me

twitchy.

Krys walked up to the door and banged three times. The sound didnt

carry like it should have, it just limped its way out into the air and fell flat on

its face. I winced. I couldnt pin down a reason why I felt so jumpy, but for a

second I could have sworn that I felt something watching me.Then a window banged open, and a peevish voice shouted down, What?

I couldnt really tell what the person the voice belonged to looked like, but he

was definitely male, and apparently he didnt like visitors.

Two people come seeking knowledge, Rogers! Let us in! Krys tossed

back. You know the custom!


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There were a few choice words in a language that I didnt understand,

but I got the gist of them pretty well, and there was a click from the door, like a

latch or lock was just freed. Krys grabbed the handle, and gestured me inside.

Once again, a door didnt do what I expected it to. Although, really, Im

starting to wonder if I should have any expectations beyond permanent, low-

level surprise. I walked into a decently lit semi-circular room, probably about

thirty feet across at its widest point. There were doors leading out, and a

staircase curving around one part of the wall up to a second story. I looked

around for a moment, ignoring the foot-tapping individual in the middle of the

room, radiating impatience and I finally figured out what was bugging me.

Everything I saw could not exactly fit inside the towerit wasnt big enough on

the outside.

Thankfully, our host was able to bring me out of my mental fugue, by

snapping, Youre here. What do you want? He had a trace of an accent,

Eastern European I thought. He certainly had that air around him of the

generic shady Eastern European entrepreneur, with stringy long black hair

held back in a pony tail, a large, beaky nose, and to top it off, he was wearing a

blue tracksuit. Oh, the hilarity. But I digress.

Its good to see you too, John, Krys said dryly.He snorted. And who is the man with you, eh? New, hmm, boy toy? He

leered. It was mildly disgusting.

Krys mouth twisted.

No, hes not involved with me, she snapped, beyond trying to find my

sister! Now, John, you have information we need, so put up or shut up.

John smirked. What makes you think I have information about Kelly,

hey? I do not associate with the kinds of people who would be in the businessof stealing away young and beautiful women. Something about how he said

that last bit made my skin crawl. I really wanted to hit him, but I figured that

would negatively impact the development of the situation, so I didnt. Yet.

We need what you know about some critters vampires call the Old

Ones, I said.


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John choked. There was a certain grim delight in watching the little

weasel turn white and be unable to speak. Although come to think of it, whyhe

would end up like that was a very important question.

I cant help you, he said, I cant. You have no idea what youre asking

about!

I growled, and he looked over at me, like a rabbit that just noticed a wolf

sitting in the snow a few feet away. I smiled. I doubt it was a pleasant one.

You will help us. One of them took Kelly. Its hunting someone in the

city. I am not about to let that happen. Not in my city. I dont care what they

are, what theyre like, why they exist I just want to know how to kill them.

Unmake them. And get her back.

John made a noise. After a second, I realized he was laughing, a sad,

hopeless, almost hysterical sound. I glanced at Krys, and then back at him.

You want to know how to destroy one of the Old Ones? You cant! They

are untouchable! They are everlasting! They are creatures beyond your

comprehension! They are I slapped him, hard enough to spin him off of his

feet, and then crouched down in front of him, looking him straight in the eyes.

Nothing is untouchable, I said quietly. Nothing is invincible. What do

you know that can help us?He shuddered. Knowledge is a dreadful thing, young Calum, he

whispered. Once you have learned something, it will always shadow you,

haunt your ways. It is a burden.

I just looked at him. He sighed. Fine. Fine! I will tell you what I know.

But I warn you, knowing these things, they are not for the weakand it will be

a shadow on your life forever.

Its a price Im willing to pay.Apparently, according to Johnny Boy, along with the disclaimer that he

wasnt sure that anything he said was actually true and completely factual,

just as close as investigation over the course of several millennia could get, the

Old Ones, or the Elder Ones, or a couple of other similar names, were things

from outside of our universe. One school of thought held that they were lesser


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Powers that were corrupted and mutilated when Lucifer and the rest of the

Fallen were kicked out of Heaven as they fell flaming through the void. Another

says they were actually formed by the Fallen, as corrupted, hellish versions of

angelsthe messengers of Hell. They are beings of power, ruinous and

hideous. Those folk unlucky enough to see one in its natural state have been

reduced to gibbering madness.

All in all, it sounded a bit depressing.

If one of them is truly here, and it seeks someone he or she is already

lost. There is nothing you can do, McNamara. Anything you try to do is doomed

to failure. He at least had the good grace to look ashamed. I am sorry. He

looked away, and whispered, zow me ye.

Theres nothing we can do? I asked. No-one has ever managed to

banish them back to Hell, even temporarily? No-one has even given them a

metaphysical bloody nose?

John shrugged. If there is, it has not been recorded. No-one I know has

ever heard that, and even if it was attemptedthey probably did not survive.

I squashed the anger welling up again. Beating this John person to a

pulp likely would make me feel better in the short term, but it would do

absolutely nothing for Kelly.Oh, Kelly mo chro. What has become of you?


43/47

CHAPTER

John stiffened, a look of sick horror went over his face, and he began to

shake. And whimper. Not very manly at all.

But then there was something that felt like a cold brush against my skin.

My skin crawled with the sensation and hairs stood up on my arm. Id felt this

before. Something was horribly wrong. Something was outside.

Calum? John? Whats going on? Krys asked. Her voice was a little bit

higher than usual. She felt it too.

Something followed us, I said. Or it wasalready here, watching Johns

place. I frowned at him, trying to see if he knew of anything, and he squeaked.

Pitifully. Jeezum, this guy was a lite-weight. Like that Miller 64 crap.

Whatever the cause, the results the same. We have a lot of crap

incoming. You ready to lay out the hurt?

She blew between her teeth, a tight grimace on her face. Well see, shesaid. Im not sure that theres much in the tank at the moment, but Ill do my

best.

Fools! wheezed John. You cannot fight against one ofThem. It is

hopeless.


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This guy was starting to be a real downer. Shut up, Johnny boy, I

hissed. Aint no such thing as a no-win scenario. Even if there is I smiled

And then something whipped through one of the windows and shot back

out, dragging John with it. It happened so fast that he was gone before the

glass stopped tinkling on the floor.

Wow. Ok. I said. That puts a crimp in things.

The tower rocked, as if it had been hit been something. Something very

large. Plates shattered in another room. I upgraded our situation from bad to

really really really bad. Verging on ultimate suck. Thankfully, I had been

through Ranger School. Twice. Recycling sucked worse than Afghanistan, most

of the time.

The tower shuddered again. This going to be fun. Right now, the main

thing was to get out of the tower, survive whatever was out there, and get the

frell out of Dodge. I dropped to a knee, and un-zipped my bag of goodies. I

pulled out something that probably (especially considering the area) would be

very distressing to anyone who saw ita short-barreled shotgun with a jagged

flash-hider, pistol grip, and no stock. Hold this, I said absently. She took in

gingerly. I rooted around a little bit more, pulled a plastic coffee can out, and

took back the Mossberg. The tower thumped again, something slammedthrough the roof, and dug around for a second as I hurriedly loaded shells into

the magazine. I jacked the pump, and fed one more round in, then looked up at

Krys, who was standing, eyes closed, whispering under her breath.

She stopped and opened her eyes. You ready? I asked. She nervously

tucked a couple strands of hair behind her ear and nodded. What were you

loading into your shotgunthat is a shotgun, right? I smiled, a grim, quiet,

carnivorous smile. Theyre called Dragons Breath. Basically acts like a giantroman candle slash flamethrower. Whatevers out there, Im thinking its not

used to be attacked like that. If nothing else, it will buy us some time to get

someplace slightly more suited for defense. Another crash, this time from a

room on our floor. I clipped the Mossberg onto a nylon strap and slung it over

my right shoulder, grabbed my bag, and checked my handgun.


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Calum. I stopped, looked at Krys. She hesitated. Thank you.

Dont thank me yet, I said. We could still die horribly. She smiled

wryly, nodded at me and raised her hands to what I assumed was a ready

position, and I kicked open the door as something tried to smash its way in

through the second floor. There was a glimpse of something writhing, like

tentacles coated in furlike scales and a color that was fundamentally wrong

writhing back in on themselves. Thankfully, it was only a glimpse.

What was outside, was, unfortunately, worse.

In the light from the sparking lamp-posts, half-veiled by the fog, I could

see a thing. I dont know how to describe it, other than saying there were

tentacles, sharp protrusions, and the pervasive mental stench that come from

seeing it. Thankfully, I didnt see much just enough have more night terrors

for a long time.

But cosmic horror or not, I wasnt going to lie down without a fight. I

tuned, and shot from the hip. A lance of sparkling fire, like a giant roman

candle, blazed out and smashed into the side (I think it was the side) of the

creature. There was noise. Although calling it noise was like calling an atomic

bomb an explosive. It was more a wave of pressure that pressed on your entire

body and seeped through your mind. And then the impossible happeneditgot louderas Krys shouted something in a ringing, silvery voice and the fog

swirled around her in a vague cyclone and then congealed into hundreds, if not

thousands of l

Against Flesh and Blood 2

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Transcript of Against Flesh and Blood 2