Chapter 18 #2
The casual way he spoke made me sick. “Do you always carry enchanted petals to hide a body?”
“Of course. It’s part of my process. I would’ve done it with Belinda, too, but she was in water, and we were interrupted.”
“You should never have come here, faerie.”
His laugh was as bitter as burnt herbs. “Here? As in fae land? My people danced here when this island was still underwater.”
I launched myself at him, blade leading. My opponent moved—not away, but through space itself, folding reality like paper. My sword sparked against the empty column of the gazebo.
“Too slow.”
His voice came from behind me. I spun, kopis sweeping in a wide arc. His twin blades flashed back into existence—curved silver things that hummed with magic—and caught my strike. The force rattled my bones. He pushed back and I staggered, my injured shoulder screaming in protest.
“You’re bleeding,” he observed with mock concern. “Should we pause so you can bandage that?”
“I’m just getting warmed up.” I feinted left, then thrust right.
He parried with one blade while the other slashed toward my ribs.
I twisted away, feeling the whisper of steel pass inches from my skin.
My kopis came down hard, aiming for the gap between his guard, but he was already moving—always moving, like water flowing around obstacles.
He caught my wrist mid-strike, and where his fingers touched, frost spread across my skin. I drove my knee toward his ribs. He twisted, impossibly fluid, and suddenly there were vines erupting from the ground and wrapping around my ankles.
“Are you the best Evermore can offer?” the bastard gloated. “I have to say, I’m disappointed. I expected more from an island packed with power.”
I managed to rip my legs free, but the vines followed. They moved like serpents, guided by my attacker’s outstretched hand. I carved through them with desperate speed, but for every vine I cut, two more sprouted.
“The earth remembers us,” he said. “It still answers when we call.”
“I have a special relationship with nature too.” My blade burst into flames, not metaphorical, but actual fire that burned without heat, the kind born from a mage father and divine rage that I’d kept locked away—until now.
The vines recoiled, smoking. I pressed forward, a whirlwind of burning steel and savage precision. My kopis traced burning arcs through the air. He blocked with both blades crossed, then spun away, opening distance between us .
The faerie’s eyes widened. He gestured sharply and the fence posts tore free, flying toward me like javelins. I dropped beneath them and felt one skim the top of my head as it passed. I shot up and charged to close the distance.
Our blades met—my single burning blade against his twin silver ones. The impact sent shockwaves rippling outward. He struck high and low simultaneously, forcing me to give up ground. I barely managed to deflect both strikes, my kopis moving in desperate figure eights.
We traded strikes faster than mortal eyes could follow, each movement honed by all the battles that came before this one.
The faerie fought like the wild itself—unpredictable, flowing, ancient beyond measure.
His twin blades worked in tandem, one driving me back while the other probed for weaknesses.
I had reach and power with my kopis, but he had speed and numbers.
“Your plan dies now,” I said through gritted teeth, driving him backward. “No key for you.” I swung in a brutal overhead strike that would've split him in two, but he crossed his blades and caught mine between them. We locked, faces inches apart, muscles trembling.
“Oh, you sweet little fool. As if you have the power to stop me.” He wrenched his blades apart, twisting my kopis to the side.
His blade caught my wrist and knocked the kopis free of my grip.
His other hand shot forward, pressing against my chest. Not a strike—something worse.
I felt my heart slow, and my head grow woozy.
Cold spread from his palm, seeping into my chest like poison. My vision blurred at the edges. Through sheer spite, I grabbed his wrist with both hands and channeled every ounce of rage I had left. Divine fire erupted between us.
The faerie flew backward, his perfect skin blackened and cracking. He hit the gazebo hard enough to splinter it. I stalked toward him—scooping up my kopis as I went—with my blade ready to strike. Blood trickled from my nose; I wasn’t even sure when he’d managed to hit my face.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a cloaked figure striding through the haze. The absence of a head gave him away. “You can’t be serious,” I muttered. No good deed goes unpunished.
“Maya,” the dullahan rasped.
I spun to face the harbinger of death. “Now’s not a good time. Can you come back later when I’m less in the throes of violence?”
“You and I have a bargain, Maya. I have come to collect.”
A flash of white caught my eye. Not the human-spine-turned-weapon again…
The bone whip snapped. I ducked, feeling it crack overhead.
“Friend of yours?” the faerie asked. He was on his feet again, twin blades ready, burn marks already fading from his skin. Of course.
“More like a stalker.” I didn’t offer any details. Why make the fight easier for him? If he knew the dullahan had marked me for death and was here to collect, less work for him.
“We’re kind of in the middle of something,” the Thread-Thief told the headless figure. “Wait your turn, friend, and you may have what’s left of her when I’ve finished.”
“Ah, to have the confidence of a mediocre white man,” I said. My smug attitude evaporated when I spotted a silver braid threaded with yellow ribbon stalk toward the dullahan.
“Laurel, no! ”
What was the druid thinking? She knew the dullahan couldn’t be killed.
I shoved my opponent aside and scrambled to intercept Laurel just as other Neighbors seemed to recognize the dullahan was a problem and crowded around him.
Meemaw raised a hand, knobby fingers bent, ready to cast a spell.
I shifted my focus back to the faerie while the dullahan was contained.
He wouldn’t kill anyone except yours truly. I had time.
“You’re in quite the predicament,” the Thread-Thief gloated. “Save yourself, or save the fragile folk.”
“They’re hardly fragile.” I had to lure him away from the crowd of onlookers, but we were surrounded.
My full powers would’ve come in handy right now.
Gods, I missed them. But Gorgons with mage magic didn’t have the kind of powers I possessed, and using them with an audience would raise questions I wasn’t prepared to answer.
I had to win this fight with the basics.
“You look defeated,” the faerie said with a sneer.
“That’s the beauty of fighting women. Thanks to their voice of doubt, they basically hand you victory on a silver platter.
I salute critical mothers everywhere, eroding their daughters’ confidence one caustic remark at a time. ” He gave a mock salute.
“Eviscerate him, Maya!” Joan’s voice rang out in the crowd.
Meemaw balled her hands into fists. “You might want to watch your mouth, faerie.”
Louise snapped her eye patch into place. “Or we’ll have to wash it out with soap.”
“Congratulations. Your comment sparked a wave of feminine rage,” I told him.
“Pffft. Like a gaggle of old hags could take me down. Theirs are the easiest fate-threads to take. Pathetically pliable.”
“Is my hearing aid defective, or did he just call us old hags?” Meemaw asked.
The Thread-Thief swung his blade again. I didn’t manage to turn in time. He landed a glancing blow on my left shoulder. Pain exploded through the old wound. My grip on the kopis faltered.
I debated my options. Every single one of them involved revealing too much of myself. On the other hand, every Neighbor within striking distance was at risk. My duty to them overrode my desire for self-protection.
As I reached into the shadows to retrieve a hidden part, the faerie’s body jolted, like he’d been struck by a live wire. His twin blades slipped to the ground. He tried to raise his arm in defense, and it stuck in mid-air.
“Hold him steady, Margie,” Meemaw ordered.
The witches stood shoulder to shoulder, using their magic in sync to secure the faerie while also attacking him.
Joan sauntered toward him, a cigarette dangling from her cherry red lips. She plucked the stick from her mouth, blew smoke in his face, and flicked the stub to the ground.
“No littering,” Kaito admonished her. He hurried to retrieve the offending item from the dirt.
“You picked the wrong neighborhood,” Joan told my opponent. Well, our opponent. “We may have aged out of the system, but we have a lot of life left in us.”
The tendons in his neck popped to the surface as the faerie struggled against their combined magic. “Hag,” he forced out.
Joan’s jaw tightened. “Some men will never learn.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Meemaw, would you like to do the honors? ”
“I most certainly would. Thank you, dear.” The bright metal of Meemaw’s rings glinted in the light as she raised her hands to inflict the final blow.
I didn’t interfere. In truth, it had been their fight from the moment he put his hands on Belinda. These women may snipe and gripe about each other in their daily lives, but when threatened, they came together as a team.
I envied them. My life had been a solitary one. Never once did I dare to believe that someone would come to my aid if I was under duress. The only one who could—who would—save Maya August was Maya August.
The faerie became completely immobile. Everybody clapped and cheered. I had to get him out of here before they tore his body into pieces and fed them to the hogs—not to be confused with hags.
“Well done, Neighbors,” I said, pushing back to the center. “Now let security handle the rest.”
“Maya,” a voice rasped.
Oh no. I’d completely forgotten about my old friend, the dullahan.
The crowd divided to let him pass.