EL BK5 | Chapter 47 - My Last Hope (Patreon)

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Charles Walsh

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Once I’d seen a Neanderthal exhibit in the museum, waxy statues of primitive people standing around a pile of sticks in front of a hide tent, visitors gawking faces reflected in the glass as Claire and I walked past. Now, walking through the Vanir encampment, I felt like those same exhibits were staring back at me with narrow, hate-filled blue eyes. Discontent followed us as we walked through the heart of their camp. 

Vanir cleared around our small group as if repelled by the presence of Fae, and gathered in groups at the entries of their tents. Long wooden spines riddled with what looked like termite damage, runes–I guessed, held up sewn hides in triangular shapes as far as the eye could see. I would have called them primitive, except for the weird scattering of lamp posts marking winding ‘streets’ through the tents. The place looked centuries old and on the brink of the industrial revolution at the same time.

Gradually, hide tents gave way to timber buildings with thatch roofs, and timber buildings became colonial houses with balconies and windows. It was one of these houses that Kari led us toward. Surrounded by unnaturally perky grass and a garden overgrown with flowers, its steps lead up to the front door just like Eric’s house did. 

A twisting tree grew beside it, roots upheaving the foundation and branches growing through the wall itself in some places. That had to be some kind of building code violation. Kári went up the steps two at a time, and disappeared into the house, leaving the door open in invitation behind him. Nathaniel and Eric followed after, both hesitated briefly in the entrance to read the runes carved into the doorframe. I did the same, although just to look like I knew what I was doing, I couldn’t actually read them. The girls followed after me with Achaicus after them, dragging himself forward like he had no life left in him.

“Don’t move the rug,” Kari I stepped over a flat brown rug just past the entryway. The same as Eric’s house, I thought to myself as I wide-stepped around it.

The inside was the same tall ceiling, wooden stairs and antique furniture as in Eric’s mansion, only the layout was different. There was a bedroom where the living room should have been and a living room in place of the dining room. Below the stairs a long hallway disappeared into darkness, bigger than Eric’s house too, I noted. 

Nathaniel stopped ahead and I almost walked into him as I stared up at the cobwebs in the highest corners of the room. I could only hope they were home to normal sized spiders, not some god-sized ones. We had reached the dining room where a lanky teen with brown hair sat leaning back in one of the chairs. 

Kári gave a tsk and smacked the boy’s crossed ankles off the table. “People eat here,” he chastised.

The kid took one, too long, look at Nathaniel and almost fell off his chair. “S-sorry,” he licked his lips, casting a nervous glance to Kári. “Umm…?”

“The Fae have decided we should be checked up on. Where’s Svenn?” 

Still unable to tear his eyes off the Fae he answered sideways, “He’s with mom– in the sunroom, I think.” 

Kári rolled his shoulders and set off that direction with an exhale, motioning us to follow. 

The kid disappeared through the other door before we passed him, couldn’t blame him for not wanting to be anywhere near a Fae. I didn’t want to be either. Creepy how much everyone here looks like Eric, though. That boy could have been a younger version of him.

We passed through another dim hallway and the muffled sound of shouting drifted from within, “They’re my sons too!” a female voice.

“The decision is made,” came the response in a calmer, deep tone. 

A thud, and the sound of something breaking against a solid surface. “I won’t let you take them.”

“Stop it.” Another thud. “They’re old enough to choose for themselves and this was their decision.”

“You turned them against me!”

“You did that, yourself.”

“We have guests,” Kári interrupted as we reached the doorway. 

The room beyond was littered with broken trinkets. Books lay at awkward angles on the floor among the broken things and both Vanir within stiffened at the sight of us. The woman, another book in hand and red faced, sucked in a sharp breath and held it. Water stained her cheeks matching her red-rimmed blue-green eyes. Karyna, the one my sister got along with. Not that I could see why.

“And just what brings our ‘guests’ here?” The man spoke just as calmly as he had to Karyna. 

“Checking up on us,” the muscle in Kári’s arms bulged against the golden bracelets around his biceps when he folded his arms and leant against the doorframe. 

“I see,” Svenn ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair, soothing the shoulder length strands back into place, then turned his attention to Nathaniel. “Welcome. My apologies for the upset.”

“Indeed.” 

I cringed at the ice in Nathaniel’s response. Nothing like a warm greeting between leaders.

“They’re staying here, just letting you know,” Kari continued, apparently unaffected by the tension in the room.

“Very well, I will have the boys arrange the bedding–”

“No,” Karyna interrupted. “I don’t want them here, and–”

“It’s not a debate, Karyna, they are staying here,” Kari returned the treatment.

She whirled on him, eyes as wide and feral as an animal’s. No mistaking her for human. “He’s not staying here,” she spat the words.

It was Eric she meant. Karyna visited often enough with Kári, but she never spoke to Eric, most of the time, she wouldn’t even look at him and now was no exception. My friend shifted to the side, stepping fractionally closer to Nathaniel, although the mask of utter indifference on his face didn’t change.

Kári didn’t flinch either. “No one asked you,” he told her without so much as a shrug. 

“If there are no urgent matters for discussion tonight, might I request we speak in the morning?” Svenn broached the subject before Karya could answer again.

“You and I will speak this evening,” Nathaniel denied the request flatly. “The others may prepare for rest.”

“As you request,” Svenn agreed with a sigh. He gestured with his hand for Kári to make the arrangements and the man pushed himself away from the doorframe.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.”

I still couldn’t get over him wearing a skirt and the uncomfortable thought that it might be all he was wearing.

***

The man and his short ponytail lead us, minus one scary Fae, back through the long hallway and into a wide room. A comfortable warmth radiated from the hearth in the corner, staying off the cold air coming in through the enormous, branch-filled hole in the side of the wall. The tree grew through the brick beside the window and continued in a twisted upward direction into the ceiling. 

I narrowed my eyes at the little bits of rubble and mortar that speckled the floorboards under the branch. If it had grown through the wall, why didn’t they stop it? Did they want a tree in their living room? Actually, looking around, I wasn’t sure this was a living room. There was a wall of almost empty bookshelves and a single couch, but no entertainment so far as I could tell. 

“The tree is what happens when you align a transportation spell incorrectly,” Eric spoke as if reading my mind as he came to stand beside me. “They’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

“Yeah well, you try aligning everything and all these rooms to a place you’ve never seen before,” Kári grunted while dragging in a mattress from a different room.

“I did, and I didn’t end up with a tree anywhere,” my friend responded without a flicker of remorse. Although he and I both moved to help with the tall mattress at the same time.

“Put it down over there, not too close to the fire, embers spit out sometimes,” Kári commented as we coordinated poorly.

The teenaged boy from before followed behind with another mattress, but Achaicus moved to help him. Not that the teen looked like he wanted the help. He stared at the Fae man with eyes as white as boiled eggs. 

“We only have these two spare,” the Vanir man continued to explain, oblivious to the boy’s distress. 

“We’ll make do,” Eric assured as the first of the two mattresses thudded to the ground. 

I was doubtful we would between the six of us.

One small discussion later and it was decided that Eric and Nathaniel would share the smaller of the two mattresses, Achaicus volunteered for the couch, while I was left to share the second bed with Halle and Calla. I’d tried to suggest it wasn’t the best idea, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d shared a bed with a woman, let alone two, but neither Eric nor Achaicus could see a problem. Oblivious? Or nonchalant? I couldn’t tell. 

Eric was still standing buttoning his nightshirt when Nathaniel returned. He shrugged off his coat and melted onto the mattress beside Eric. A faint smile touched my friend's lips as he raised one foot to stand on Nathaniel’s chest. 

“What are you doing?” The Fae glared up as Eric shifted his weight to apply more pressure.

“Standing.” The savage glint in his eye reminded me of that one time he’d used me as bait. 

“A poor choice of location,” Nathaniel’s voice was no less calm as his hand wrapped around Eric’s ankle and, in one well placed motion, toppled him.

I turned away as he landed with a breathless huff. Even when they’re just playing with each other, I can’t help but think it’ll go badly. But maybe that’s because they both hide their emotions so well that I can’t tell when they’re joking or not. It’s the same in meetings, I can’t tell if they’re at each other’s throats speaking like they hate each other, or if it’s just Eric impulsively challenging Nathaniel just because he can when no one else could. At least, not without risking being smited.

Awkwardly, crouched to crawl onto the mattress with Calla and Halle. I lay between the two girls pretending to be a plank of wood, staring up at the winding bark of the tree and its dark green leaves. In the Fae castle, every guest had their own private quarters. Here, we were all lumped into one room like children at a slumber party. Was this a cultural thing? Some innate difference between monsters? Or Just something Eric’s family did?

Calla shifted closer, pressing her back against my side as she readjusted to face the doorway. That must’ve been some assassin training thing, to always watch the entry and exits of a room. I guess that meant she trusted me then. Or maybe she just knew I wasn’t worth a damn in a fight, she could clean the floor with me any day.  

Standing her head barely reached my shoulder laying, and half scrunched up, she was so tiny I felt like a giant beside her. An effect made worse by Halle’s small frame on the other side. She held onto my arm, resting her face against my bicep. Comparing her to Calla, I could see why the girl almost failed her training.

Between the two of them, somehow, I felt my muscles loosen and relax. Was it the warmth of their bodies or the comfort of getting to lay next to someone? I had the sinking feeling I would find sleeping alone in a bed somehow lonely after this. 

‘Don’t be ridiculous, you’re never alone with me here.’ Ronové's thoughts drifted into my mind as I closed my eyes. 

‘Right. How could I forget,’ I replied with my own bitter thought. The witch was quieter and quieter of late. Sometimes I could get through a whole day without interruption, like he was fading away. ‘No sleepwalking tonight either,’ I warned him anyway. 

‘Why would I want to go anywhere when we’re surrounded by women?’

‘Don’t make me, make us, sleep on the floor.’

I could switch with Achaicus, probably. He lay on his back on that couch like a man in a sarcophagus, arms folded over his chest, staring up at the ceiling as well. Would he even sleep tonight?

‘Unlikely,’ Ronové commented.

‘Unlikely for me as well, if you don’t stop talking.’ 

The witch was always more active at night, much to my distress. 

‘You really think these ancient ones will have a way to free you from me?’ He continued his usual torments. 

‘I can only hope.’

A flash of memory greeted me. Claire’s limp body being thrown against scaffolding, Eric bleeding as he scaled the crumbling mall to escape us. I shuddered involuntarily. Ronové showed me these things so often I’d almost become accustomed to them. I knew how to switch the channel, so to speak, to something better. I remembered Eric sitting up in his hospital bed, healing right before my very eyes it seemed. Claire torturing her husband to be with pudding. Their kid, my nephew waddling along like the little monster he was trying to catch a butterfly.

I smiled slightly as they pushed Ronové's horrors back down. ‘You can’t beat me,’ I told him as assurance flooded my veins. This was how you beat a witch. You hold onto yourself. The essence of who you are, it’d taken me a while to figure that out. 

A nauseous swell of discomfort ruined the victory. Ronové trying to claw back control, I’d thought, but the touch of fear in it gave me second thoughts.

‘Ronové,’ I called, breaking my own resolve not to interact. 

‘What,’ the answer was a hiss of displeasure for the indignity of being summoned.

‘You’ll kill me if we use a spell to remove you, right?’ 

‘Yes.’ An unnecessarily loud declaration in the quiet of my mind. 

‘Then, it’s a choice you make, right?’ Suspicious silence met the question, so I continued. ‘What if you just… didn’t?’ 

I didn’t need an answer, the vibrating rattle of resistance and anger was enough. He wouldn’t just let go and let me go on my way. Despite the fact that this was my body. If I was going to get rid of him, the Vanir were my last hope.

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