Chimes At Midnight: The Grimoire Chronicles, #3

One Month Ago

Scylla

Scylla sat in the dark outside the Faerie Shroud of the Emerald Queen, Morgana. His visage in this guise was little more than a wisp, a thing of smoke and memory; his own memory, of what he was before the betrayal. Before he and his sister, Charybdis, were locked away within a realm not of their own. Betrayed by their grandmother, and their uncle. With each passage of time, the memories of what he was faded, but the ones of his anger lingered.

No…

He closed his eyes. That wasn't true. His anger had dulled over the years. As had his wits and his memory of the Physical World, the tastes of wine and men, and women. Because what was an Incubus to do in a world where physical pleasure was as unknown or as misunderstood as the touch of a sunbeam on skin? An Incubus reveled in the physical, bathed in it, drank it deep with the soul of their prey.

But not here. Here, an Incubus withered and became what he was now. A shade. A ghost.

Nothing.

The world outside the Queen's Shroud was bright. Too bright. The trees were heavy with fruit, from ruby red apples to ripe yellow pears. He couldn't taste any of them, even if he wanted to. They were there for the humans who foolishly wandered into the Shroud, through a Cairn, created by Queen Morgana for just that purpose.

Morgana was different than her sisters. Tzariene's moods changed on a whim and her alliances were usually good. Oona's moods were always hidden from view behind her mask of serenity, and Medbh's…well…she was insane. Everyone knew it.

Morgana had a clearly unique view of the realm of Alfheim and a somewhat skewed opinion of the Physical World. To her, humans were little more than objects to take in, mold and reshape into whatever she wanted. Some became her Hunt hounds, while others found themselves as living statues in her garden, forever encased in a spell of stillness where they would always hunger, yet could never touch or taste. Scylla had looked at them with pity while his sister laughed at their predicament.

My sister…

She was why he lingered in the Eastern Shroud. Not long ago, he forgot the number of days, Charybdis had found one of Medbh's Cairns unattended. Open to the Physical Realm. All they had to do was find the right opening to escape. And because he would do anything for his beloved sister, Scylla had followed her inside, unaware of the danger that lurked there.

They felt the heat before they saw the fire. A raging, billowing miasma of flames, some of them looking like stampeding horses as they ran through the tunnels of the Cairn. Scylla had been closest to the exit, having run back to the entrance to consult the Hob.

But Charybdis had been too far in, and was caught in the first billowing stampede. And burned. So badly burned. He'd dove outside the Cairn's entrance into one of the Hob's ponds of water as the fire raged overhead. When he finally came up, the air was still heated and the smell of burned things filled his senses. It was almost as if he could taste again, and the flavor was that of death.

When he didn't see Charybdis beside him, he called her name. The Hob appeared then and begged him not to enter the Cairn. That's when he knew she hadn't made it out. That's when he knew…

He found her down a side tunnel. Just a few more feet and she'd have made it out. Her blackened arms were stretched out and her mouth open as if to call out to him. He touched her, and what remained became little more than ash and smoke as it swirled around him and escaped through the opening in the Hob's grotto, out into the scorched world of Alfheim.

Morgana had taken him in, as she always had, and bid him rest within her protective walls.

And rest he did. Sitting where he sat now, tumbling into a pit of despair. And there he'd remained for weeks. He sat outside the Queen's home and stared at the ground as he sat upon a marble bench, trimmed in gold and carved intricately with grapes and vines. Little cherub faces in the grapes looked at him, and he'd noticed how they moved when he wasn't looking. Perhaps these too were part of Morgana's little pets.

Maybe others saw the shade of something seated there and wondered to themselves if he too were a wandering spirit caught in the web of the Emerald Queen.

The snap of a branch brought his attention away from the staring cherubs. He wasn't startled. Didn't really care if something approached him. He couldn't live, couldn't function, knowing his sister was no more and his life carried no meaning.

He was a bit surprised to see a young girl approaching, threading a path through the apple and pear trees. She wore a white shift of ethereal silk that shimmered pink and blue with her movements. Her hair was long and reddish brown and not especially enchanted. And as she approached, he noticed her ears were rounded like a human's. Two gray wolves flanked her. The wolves weren't as surprising as the girl's ears. Wolves were symbolic of the hunt and ferocity of the Faerie people, especially the Daoine Sidhe. Morgana's wolves were golden furred, Tzariene's were white, and Oona's were black.

Medbh's were gray, as these were. But this wasn't Medbh, for Medbh was Daoine Sidhe like her sisters.

Not human.

Hello, the girl said as she stopped before him. The wolves dutifully sat to either side of her and stared at him.

Scylla stood and found himself looking up at her by a few inches. You're human.

"Partially. I've lived in Alfheim long enough to have eaten its food, as tasteless as it is, and I have danced 'round the ash and oak."

He slowly shook his head before he pointed at the wolves. Those are Medbh's.

They were. Now they are mine. She smiled sweetly at him. I bit her head off.

The news of the Winter Queen's demise surprised him. Morgana hadn't spoken a word of this to him, nor had she shown any distress or even the slightest anger at the death of her sister. Surely such a tragedy concerning family, such as his own, would have manifested in some way. Scylla had raged for days and nights when his sister died.

Unless… Medbh is still alive.

Yes. Sort of. But she's in the Human Realm.

That's a lie. The Faerie can't live in the Human Realm. But was that honestly the truth? The Daoine Sidhe could enter that realm under certain conditions, but they were strict and had to be followed precisely. He never thought Medbh had the temperament for such rituals.

It's just her head, the girl smiled as she said this. Now I'm the Queen.

He laughed. He couldn't help himself. The full absurdity of that statement struck him as a joke. A human? As a Faerie queen? It was more laughable than the head of an Obsidian Queen living in the Human Realm.

Oh, you laugh now. But once the queens accept me, I can become one of the Faerie, Scylla.

The mention of his name stopped him. I'm sorry, my dear. But you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name.

"Yes. One of Medbh's…I mean, my aids, spoke of you and your sister. Though I did hear about the tragedy that befell her."

He took offense to her statements about his sister and turned away. He was a True First Born, the son of Echidna and twin to Charybdis. The Succubus and the Incubus. He didn't have to suffer this human's existence. Without a word, he strode purposefully to the Queen's door.

What say you if I could give you the name of the one who caused the fire?

Scylla stopped. That…wasn't what he expected to hear from her. Not at all. He pivoted and looked at her, making sure not to show emotion, in this action or his expression. I would say I would pay any price to know this. But I would also wish to know how you know this name?

I know it because I spoke to the one who ignited the tunnels.

They confessed this? He was instantly in front of her, now larger than her and looming above. To her credit, she didn't flinch.

Yes. She smiled sweetly up at him. Do you mean you would pay any price?

Name it.

Bring me a Goblin from the Human World.

A Goblin? He hesitated. A halfling? Goblins aren't exactly easy to spot in the Human World. And in case you haven't noticed… He held out his arms. I'm not exactly in the best shape to traverse the Physical Realm.

You need a body.

Yes.

I can provide the means. You, of course, would have to procure the body itself. She tilted her head. When you have this body, I can give you a name of this Goblin and a location of where he is, and when he will be his most vulnerable.

At least she understood Goblins. They could be dangerous. Half human and half Faerie, they possessed the best of both peoples, but they also possessed a type of wild magic, which could be deadly. You want to bring this Goblin here?

To the Obsidian Palace. I have a place for him there.

He pursed his lips. It was an interesting offer. A new body. An opportunity to be in the Physical Realm once again. If she was stupid enough to offer it, he should take the opportunity. But to make a deal with a Faerie, even a fake one, didn't sit well with him.

But if he could make it out to freedom, it could also give him what he needed—a purpose. Was it worth the risk of dealing with the Faerie?

It was.

How long do I have?

Until the next full moon.

Scylla still hesitated. All I have to do is bring him to you in the palace. And then you'll give me the name.

She nodded.

And what after? Can I keep the body?

As long as you want.

Scylla stood up tall and proud, and the earlier miasma of guilt and doubt faded away as he said, You have a deal.

She curtsied and then stopped. Oh, and if you betray me, I will rip you from your new human body and your essence will return to the Well of Souls. There will be no more Scylla.

She held out her hand. He took it. The moment their flesh met he felt something shift and a bell chimed in the air. She might be human, but she understood the old magic. A deal was struck. There was no turning back.

Taking a step back, she held her hands out and then brought them together with a resounding clap. Scylla's world darkened quickly as he felt as if he'd been scooped up by the winds of change and then dumped into the pits of the maelstrom of hell.

One

THEY STARTED iT

Dags

I'd never been to New Orleans. Though I'd always wanted to go. Just, not like this. I couldn't enjoy the scenery or the atmosphere of the place at all, because the only thing on my mind was finding Mike. Sam didn't exactly say she knew where he was, or that he was with her, only that I had to get there.

And, here I was, driving into the city at night. The lights were impressive, as was the number of people still out on a Wednesday, milling about in the streets. I turned the SUV down Decatur Street and hit congestion at Café Du Monde, waiting for people to cross the road. I really wanted a good, strong coffee, but the sheer number of people and lack of parking told me that would be a bad idea. It was sitting there, waiting, that I finally wondered what that buzzing was in my head.

No, not just in my head. It was everywhere. I blinked a few times and looked up at the night sky, then in the direction of the lake, and realized the noise came from everywhere. And whatever it was, it wasn't going away. It was like having mosquitos hovering near both ears. But what was it? Magic? Danger? Something else? Or a combination of the two?

A horn honking behind me urged me on my way and I continued down the road, noticing Jackson Square on my left. I was unable to make the left on Dumaine Street because it was blocked off with road construction. In fact, there was a lot of construction. So I continued straight on Decatur Street and waited for my phone to redirect me.

It didn't. It kept insisting I make a U-turn and go down that road. The one with no asphalt and a huge hole in the middle.

So…great. When I hit Frenchmen Street and had to take a left, I figured it would be a good idea to pull over to get a better idea of where I was and where I needed to go. Sam's shop was off Bourbon Street, down from Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop Bar. Not that I knew what that was or had any idea. I wasn't too proud to call Sam back, but I didn't want to do it while driving.

I spotted a gas station on North Rampart and turned into the side parking area, which was comprised of three slots, one of which was filled with an El Camino, dirt brown and pretty beat up. I noticed there were people inside of it, I just wasn't really paying any attention to them. I put the SUV in park and dialed up Sam's number. It was pretty late, and I didn't know if she'd already gone to bed or if she got grumpy when awakened. Mike knew her better than me, and that was really not at all. Other than the fact I trusted her more than I trusted most people in my life. There was something about Samantha Hawthorne that demanded trust and confidence. In spades.

When the answering machine picked up I started to leave a message, but was interrupted when my passenger and my driver doors were abruptly yanked open. Whoever opened the driver's side door grabbed me by my arm and I dropped my phone on the asphalt as I was unceremoniously tossed onto the ground. I scrapped the palms of my hands trying to prevent a fall.

It's just a kid, said a deep voice, and I was able to make out the silhouette of my attacker. He was tall, a lot taller than me, but then again, everyone was taller than me. He had blond hair, a bit mussed in the dim light of the building's so-called outside lighting, probably installed to prevent muggings. His face was shadowed, but he was white, and he wore a t-shirt, jeans, boots and fingerless gloves. He also smelled pretty bad with a pungent B.O.

Then gank him and let's go, said whoever had come into my SUV through the passenger door. This is a sweet ride.

Gank? Was this guy a gamer?

I started to get up on my feet, but Fingerless Gloves swung out with his boot and knocked my knees and my hands out from under me. That hurt. Stay down, kid. Might not kill you as fast.

Kill me?

Just hearing that set off both surprise, fear and anger in my head. And those emotions set something else off as the Grimoire inside of me stirred. I heard the pages flipping and silently tried to make it stop. The last thing I wanted to do was roll into town and announce to anyone magically sensitive that a big, powerful sorcerer had arrived. That wasn't me, but I'd noticed in the past month that the Grimoire had a pretty big radius of power that lit up like a Roman candle. I hadn't figured out how to temper that down yet. Wasn't even sure I could. I just knew this was not how I wanted to start this trip, by causing Sam problems in a place I knew was home to, if nothing else, a Witchy Parliament of sorts.

And it was my fault for not locking my doors and warding the SUV like I usually did.

The kick