The Broom #5
“You are admiring my work? She is quite beautiful, isn’t she?” Dante said in a deep voice.
Taran entered the room, holding the mallet and chisel.
Eilonwy’s first instinct was to take Taran’s chisel from him and break the glass.
Then she realized where she’d seen those symbols before.
He was a raven shifter, one of the dread Fae, but he wasn’t supposed to be out of the homelands. If he was here, he was a fugitive, and she could use that to her benefit.
“You are a long way from home, Raven,” she said, matching his contempt.
“So are you…cousin.”
Taran stiffened next to her, realizing this man was a Fae. The shifters were a part of the monstre class of Fae. Many belonged in the court of shadows, but they were not related, not in a way that mattered. If anything, they served as the funeral directors of the court. It all made sense now.
“Were you thrown out in disgrace, or did you escape?” Eilonwy asked.
He laughed like a raven. “Haw ha! As if my kind would be allowed to fly the outland skies!”
“You escaped?” Eilonwy stalled as Taran touched her on the back. He was scared, but ready to fight. He had been trained his whole life to fight and protect. “How did you get here?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Dante sneered.
“What I would really like to know is why do this?” Eilonwy said as she gestured at Haley.
“Eternal death is the ultimate form of love,” he said.
“It’s forbidden to do this to anyone on this side,” she replied, even though she was guessing.
“I do as I please. It is my way.”
“How many, Dante?”
“Consumed like that delicious morsel Haley sent me, or immortalized?”
“I have time, tell me everything.”
“It started—”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“Get dressed and meet me downstairs, tell me when you get here,” Eilonwy said.
“Why bother when I can do it from here?” Dante asked.
Taran strode to the bathroom mirror and smacked the chisel into the mirror. It shattered into a hundred pieces. The sound felt oddly satisfying to Eilonwy. Then she grabbed the radio and plucked the feather from Haley’s hands.
“What’s the plan?” Taran asked, following her down the stairs with the lamp and tools.
“Do you know what a raven shifter is?” Eilonwy asked.
“A little. I know they’re from the dark court, they eat the dead, and they carry out executions by the order of the queen.”
“They also read a lot, and they like to hear the sound of their own voice.”
“How did he get here?” Taran asked.
“Probably through one of the portals. Help me move my suitcase. I need to sketch out something on the floor, and I don’t want him to know I have ingredients. We also need to turn down the lights.”
“He ate Carey, didn’t he?” Haley asked.
“Possibly. You need to prepare yourself for when he arrives,” Eilonwy said as she sketched out a pentacle on the wooden floor using a dark brown spell crayon made with blood, one that couldn’t be seen in the dim light.
“Do you think he’s really coming here?” Haley asked.
“Yes, he’s too arrogant not to. He’ll know it’s a trap, but he’ll think he can escape.”
All the lights on the lower floor went out. The only light left was from the staircase and the streetlights outside.
“I stowed the suitcase behind the counter. Now what?” Taran asked.
“Put the radio far enough away that we can hear Haley, but he can’t reach it without exposing himself. Haley, if you can, get your broom!”
The mist of Haley left the radio and floated up the stairs.
“What’s the endgame?” Taran asked.
Eilonwy didn’t look at her brother, instead scanning the windows to make sure Dante didn’t arrive without them knowing. “We need to kill him. If he escapes, he’ll keep murdering. If he gets fetched, he’ll tell them where we are.”
“Is this going to be our life now? Kill to keep killers from killing us?”
“I don’t want it to be, but someone has to stop this maniac, and we can’t let anyone know what we are.”
“Right. What do you want me to do?”
“Stay back a bit, seem unconcerned, don’t offer personal information, and know I’m going to lie to him. If I can, I need to get…”
The door by the stairs flew open with a bang. A rush of wind and rain announced his arrival.
Eilonwy faced him, hands by her sides, Taran behind her.
He walked in with his arms out, like a rock star showing up to his latest gig, wearing pointed shoes and a grin.
He also wore a belted black leather coat, double-breasted, with strangely large sleeves that tightened at the cuffs, and dark, tight pants.
He was taller than Taran but skinnier, his features handsome but edging on homely.
“I am Dante Valentine, and you are Eilonwy Shaedewell. I am exceedingly pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said with a bow and the flourish of his arms in front of him, like a bird touching the tips of its wings together.
She was unsettled that he knew her name; she also noticed that he ignored Taran’s presence.
He straightened and placed his hands together, like saying a prayer. “How can I be of service?”
It was all she could do not to roll her eyes. Instead, she placed a polite smile on her face. “Thank you for coming, Dante. I was wondering if you could answer some questions for me.”
He returned the smile and put his hands behind his back, cocking one leg out slightly. “I live to serve beauty such as yours. Ask of me anything that would please you.”
His smarminess was challenging her patience.
“Have you been hunting in my city?”
Dante was still for a moment, then raised his chin a bit. “How is this your city?” The fact that his answer was short told her he was nervous.
Eilonwy answered, “I was born here, I intend to have children here, and I know the elders of the highest coven in the region.”
He casually stepped to the left and looked around, toward the front of the store. “You know the Mavens?”
“I do.”
“You are a witch?”
“We are,” Eilonwy stated, adding Taran to the conversation.
Dante stepped to the right, then back to the stairs, and looked up them. “Was my beautiful Haley a part of this coven?”
“If she had been, we would not have lost her to your kind,” Eilonwy carefully taunted.
He looked back to her, leaning against the stairs, his arms crossed. “My kind? We are woven of the same materials,” he huffed, a faint caw sound rustling around him.
“Have I offended you?”
“Ha! You offend yourself! You ask if I have been hunting in your city. It is my right to take one each Samhain. If you were truly of the court, you would know.” The cawing sound grew, as though more birds had landed nearby.
“We are half of the shadows and half of the stars,” Eilonwy stated. Ric had told her witches and wizards were referred to as star children in the Fae lands.
“Fair as you are, you clearly have no powers beyond audacity,” he said, trying to anger her so she would prove otherwise.
“You said you would answer my question.”
“I answered when I told you it is my right. My people have the highest honor of preparing and guarding the dead. I suspect you know little of your father’s people; he undoubtedly only told of the laws and lore.
” He didn’t have to guess her father was Fae.
Only the males were allowed to go out and create children; the females had to stay and protect the lineage.
“He told us of the laws that would concern us, and some of the lore, but it still doesn’t answer the question of why you think you can murder whomever you please.”
“Murder? I honor the dead.”
“You murdered Haley and Carey.”
“Haw ha!” he called out into the darkness, his head tipped up and back like a raven. The cawing sounded closer, yet still far away.
Eilonwy hoped he didn’t have any siblings nearby.
Dante left his spot by the stairs, stepping slowly closer while he undid the thick belt around his coat. He was shirtless underneath, and his pants rode low. It was erotic in a way that made her want to slap him with a knife for his disrespect.
The cawing grew louder. “Hush, my darlings,” he said, and the cawing stopped.
“He isn’t alone,” Taran whispered, ever so softly, and she realized the cawing was coming from Dante.
He stood ten feet away from her. She needed him to come into the circle she’d made on the floor.
“I will never be alone. I choose the company I keep, and keep them I do. Some I keep better than the others. I made a gorgeous reliquary out of my beloved Haley so she could live forever as a persona,” he boasted.
“What is a persona?”
“It is a poor witch who does not know the highest calling of becoming a persona.”
“Or you aren’t smart enough to explain it to me.”
“You are amusing, I might not consume you. I will, however, take your brother.”
“I doubt that, but please continue,” she countered so he would answer the question.
“Fine, I will explain. A persona is the existence of the soul beyond life, retaining all of their accumulated knowledge so they might pass it along to the next generation. I have the honor of making reliquaries so I can house the greatest minds after death as personas, and they have the honor of teaching what they know.”
“Haley is a ghost, and she says you wanted her to do your bidding.”
“Haley is a bright little liar who asked me to make her a persona. Her regret is not my problem.”
“You miserable son of a bastard!” Haley shouted from the radio. A broom sailed down the stairs and slammed into the side of Dante’s head.
“Cursed wench!” he called out as he fell to one knee.
“Liar, liar, liar!” Haley screamed, no longer needing to be inside the radio to have a voice through the static.
The cawing rose up. Eilonwy quickly whispered to Taran, “Don’t touch him. The sound is coming from his coat.”
The broom came down on Dante’s head again and again while Haley screamed and cursed and called him names. Her cold mist encircled him until he couldn’t see. He stumbled up, opening his coat, his nose bleeding from where she had smacked his face with the broom handle.
Eilonwy took a step back, taking Taran with her.