Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
CLAYTON
“What the ever-loving bloody fuck did you do?!” Clayton rounded on Mal, ready to tear him apart.
“That wasn’t me.” Mal had lost the laid-back demeanor he’d had all morning and shifted to the lethal man Clayton had met in Boston Below. “Get behind me.” He shoved Clayton behind him without waiting for him to respond.
“You didn’t do this?” Clayton’s face drained of all color as he felt the spell on Merry’s doll ping in his mind. It was faint but clear. Merry was in trouble. His voice was hoarse as he whispered, “The children.”
“I need to get you out of here,” Mal said, like it was a rational course of action and not the absolute load of fire beetle dung Clayton knew it to be.
Clayton made to sprint for the empty spot his boat used to reside in, but Mal grabbed him by the arm. Clayton used his fancy Guard training moves to dodge Mal’s grasp because fuck that bullshit.
Wonder upon wonders, it actually worked, but Mal didn’t stop. In a blur of motion, he was in front of Clayton, blocking his way to the dock.
“Get the fuck out of my way,” Clayton snarled.
His mind was protesting urgently against offending the person who was seemingly able to bend reality to his will, but Clayton couldn’t hear it past the screaming void that had sprung up in his chest the second he’d realized Mal wasn’t playing a joke on him.
Clayton’s people were on that boat. His family was on that boat, and he would do whatever it took to get them back unharmed.
Clayton feinted to one side and kicked out to do a leg sweep on Mal, but Mal suddenly wasn’t there, and Clayton’s arms were trapped behind his back in a vice-like grip.
“Calm yourself, and I will help you fix this,” Mal said in his ear, voice harsh with some unidentified emotion. His chest was plastered against Clayton’s upper back, and he trapped Clayton's hands in one of his so he could wrap an arm around his waist. “Don’t fight me.”
Clayton’s head throbbed in pain the way it often did when something Claytony was about to occur. There was a loud crack at their feet, and Clayton braced himself for anything, but instead of having the gates of hell open up and swallow him whole, Mal was the one who fell.
A half-rotten wooden plank on the boardwalk had given up and taken a swearing Mal with it. He hadn’t gone far. Only one leg had gotten swallowed, but it was enough to slow him down.
Clayton used the opportunity to make a break toward the boat slip, but he stalled out when an air sprite dropped down to hover in front of him. Samantha’s voice came from the misty creature, and it stopped him in his tracks.
“Clayton, what happened? Are you okay? Merry’s doll just sent out a code yellow, and then Marshall told me the shields he put on your boat vanished from his senses.”
Clayton recognized the air sprite. Fzzt had taken a liking to Clayton a few months back, and it had been lingering around the chapter house a lot lately.
Clayton was touched that it had allowed Samantha to use it as a messenger.
It would have needed to bring a friend in to relay Samantha’s side of the conversation, and that was a level of focus most air sprites couldn’t muster.
Mal caught up to Clayton, blurring into existence next to him with superhuman speed, but he didn’t try to restrain Clayton again. He seemed to have been mollified by the fact that Clayton had stopped racing to the empty boat slip.
“I’m fine, Samantha,” Clayton responded as his mind finally kicked in and started to do its job. “Did his shields vanish, or did they break?”
Marshall’s shields were among the strongest out there, so if they’d broken, Clayton was fucked. Anyone who could take them down was far stronger than anything Clayton was capable of dealing with.
His eyes flicked briefly to his new pet monster before turning his attention to Samantha’s hurried one-sided conversation with Marshall.
Either she had a magic item that allowed her to communicate with Marshall freely, or he’d set up a mind link with her.
If it were the latter, his boss was a lucky bitch. Marshall had never done that with him.
“Marshall said they vanished from his senses. They didn’t break. What happened?”
“Someone took my boat with my family on board. I was outside, so they didn’t take me. I just… stood here and watched it happen.”
Like an utterly useless person, a mean portion of Clayton’s mind inserted. Clayton told it to bugger off because he was too busy to feel like shit at the moment. It could make an appointment and come back later.
“Ask Marshall if he can trace it,” Clayton demanded and then waited impatiently while Samantha relayed his question, playing with Mal’s hand like a fidget toy.
When he pricked himself on a claw, he looked up at Mal, suddenly realizing that he’d been holding the man’s hand without even thinking about it.
“You’re wasting time with that lot,” Mal said in a low voice. “Let me help you find your family. The trail will be cold before anyone can get here.”
Samantha’s voice cut in before Clayton could respond. “Marshall said if he focuses, he can vaguely sense his shields, but he’ll need to come to the dock to learn anything more. I want you to stay put and wait for Fire to get there.”
Clayton glared at his feet so he wouldn’t hurt Fzzt’s feelings by glaring at it. He loved Samantha, but he was getting sick of how much she treated him like a child who needed protecting. Even from across the ocean, his mother’s influence on others was strong.
In his mum’s eyes, her precious little orphan was utterly incapable of taking care of himself, so it was her job to make sure nothing more than a strong breeze could affect him.
The fact that his affliction made it impossible for her to do said job was a point of contention between them since she’d discovered him twenty-two years ago in Epping Forest.
This meant that she constantly harassed everyone around him into making sure he was safe, and Samantha was no exception.
Clayton bit the inside of his cheek, because this wasn’t about him. It was about the crazy, patchwork family he’d found for himself. He’d swallow his pride, his words, and his entire fucking boat if he had to in order to get them back.
Samantha must have sensed his hesitation in his silence, because she added, “It’s going to be okay, Clayton. The spell on Merry’s doll is only on code yellow. She’s not in immediate danger, so that means Marshall’s shields are keeping everyone safe. We have time.”
Clayton took a deep breath and said, “Fine. We’ll be here.”
“We will?” The simple phrase from Mal held a mountain of meaning. Irritation, incredulity, and insult were hovering at the top of the mountain.
Clayton shot a sideways glance at Mal and was unsurprised at discovering the undisguised stink-eye the man was aiming at Fzzt, so he kicked him in the shin. “Don’t blame Fzzt for your emotions. You’ll scare it.”
Mal huffed and rolled his eyes, but stopped glaring at Fzzt. “We don’t need to wait for your… friends.” The word was dropped like a cat turd in a litter box.
“They’re not my friends. They’re the Guard's highest-ranked team, and I’m lucky to have their help. Their leader, Marshall, is predicted to be the next praetor, and if he can’t find my family, they can’t be found.”
Marshall would get them back. He’d probably do it so quickly that Clayton wouldn’t have a chance to work himself into an anxious ball of stress.
Marshall’s shields still existed. Princess Stinky was only on code yellow. That meant the boat had been unbreached. Clayton’s family was safe.
His mind flashed to Merry’s and Tommy’s faces, pinched with terror the last time they’d been kidnapped, and his stomach clenched painfully. He’d promised they’d be safe. He’d promised them, and they’d been snatched right out from underneath him without so much as a hiccup.
No. Clayton didn’t need to spiral into the dark place. Marshall would arrive soon and fix everything.
“I can’t find them,” Marshall admitted sourly after ten achingly long minutes of meditation.
“Wha-what?”
It had only taken a few minutes for Marshall to arrive at the dock with Jack in tow, though Clayton was certain he’d aged several years in the interim.
The moment they showed up, Mal was tense and on guard. Clayton wasn’t surprised. Jack had been more than a bit dramatic with his entrance. He was out of breath, and Marshall had trailed behind him, equally out of breath and seemingly confused by Jack’s excitement.
Because there was no doubt that Jack was absolutely chuffed to be there. The second he laid eyes on Mal, his rainbow eyes shimmered with some unidentifiable emotion along with a hint of smugness. Then Marshall had caught up, and Jack threw an arm around his captain’s shoulders and pulled him close.
“Clayton, introduce your prickly friend to us.” Jack kept an arm around Marshall’s shoulders, but his captain didn’t shrug him off.
Clayton was long used to their familiarity. Marshall was even more touch-shy than most dreamwalkers, but around Jack, it was as if that boundary didn’t exist, and the larger man took advantage of the privilege every chance he got.
“Guardian Jack, Guardian Marshall,” Clayton began, as prim and proper as he’d been taught. “This is my… associate, Mal. He helped me rescue the children six weeks ago.”
Mal snorted at the term associate and gave Clayton a look that he interpreted to mean, is that what we’re calling this?
Clayton glared at him haughtily and returned the look with what he hoped conveyed, I’m certainly not telling them you’re my fuck buddy.
Mal sneered and stormed off to pace around the slip that usually housed Clayton’s boat.
Marshall’s eyebrows knitted together as he watched Mal go, and a light of dawning understanding appeared in his eyes before vanishing with a shimmer of rainbow essence.
Clayton’s attention flicked to Jack in alarm before a wave of dizziness washed over him.
What had they been doing?
Right. The children.
Marshall did his thing, while Jack stood back and watched or guarded or whatever his job was as support for Marshall. The entire time Marshall worked, Mal stomped around the slip and even stepped down an invisible set of stairs to crouch down and have a staring contest with the water.
Marshall was caught up in searching for Clayton’s boat, so he was completely unaware of Mal’s blatant public use of magic, but Jack took it all in silently.
Clayton was used to the man being chatty and cheerful, so it was definitely out of character in Clayton’s opinion. Jack still seemed to be having the time of his life, though, as he kept one eye on Marshall and another on Mal, who was nodding and muttering to himself every now and then.
What could Jack see that Clayton couldn’t?
Clayton had never been able to see magic like most members of the Other. He couldn’t smell, feel, or hear it either. It was another one of his oddities. Clayton somehow just knew it was there.
The only exception to that involved Jack. The man’s eyes always blazed with his unique rainbow essence, and even Clayton could see the visual representation of it.
It was odd, but it was just one of those things that made Clayton give a mental shrug when it came to the ever-growing collection of oddities about himself.
When he was old, he’d write a book about himself and publish it in a magical journal for everyone to pick apart.
Clayton was close to dying of old age when Marshall finally came out of his reverie and made his unbelievable announcement that he’d failed at something.
“What do you mean, you can’t find it?” Clayton demanded. “You told Samantha you could sense your shields.”
Marshall gave Clayton an apologetic look and rubbed the back of his neck. “I can sense them. They should be right in front of us, but it also feels like they’re infinitely far away. I can’t explain it.”
Mal gave a loud scoff from the other side of the slip. “You’re giving up already?”
Marshall colored and retorted, “Of course not. It’s just going to take longer than I’d hoped. You don’t need to worry, though, Clayton. I promise you that my shields are fully intact. As long as you have enough food and water on your boat, your family will be safe for the time being.”
Clayton nodded an affirmative.
That was something at least. He’d refilled the water tank only the day before, so they should have at least five days before running out. More if they rationed it properly.
As for food, other than butter and crumpet rings, they had enough staples to survive for a few weeks if necessary. Clayton was an overpreparer, and it seemed like today it was about to pay off.
“Tell these losers to fuck off,” Mal said, coming up to Clayton to sling an arm around him. “We can figure this out on our own.”
Jack seemed absolutely delighted at being called a loser, and when Mal locked eyes with him and tried to stare him down, Clayton thought Jack was going to do something insane like hug Mal or propose.
Clayton took Mal’s clawed hand in his and squeezed, moving to place his body in front of him to block Jack’s view. “Even if we can figure it out ourselves, we still need help. This is about the kids, Mal. Don’t forget, your latest foundling is there too.”
At the word foundling, Clayton felt a subtle shift in the world around him. If he weren’t so in tune with his immediate surroundings out of self-preservation, he wouldn’t have noticed it.
Clayton didn’t know what had happened, but something he’d just said triggered something fundamental in the Real. He just hoped it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass later.