The Sword in the Stone

It took Mike far longer than expected to return to his own tower. He stumbled a bit and got lost more than once, but couldn’t tell if it was due to lack of blood or something his magic had done to him. Charlotte offered to go with him, but he needed some space away from her to figure out exactly what had happened.

Disoriented, he had gotten lost. In the back of his mind, he could feel Charlotte’s presence, similar yet more intense than the connection he had with Kisa. Right now, Charlotte was walking around her tower barefoot, humming quietly to herself. Mike could actually feel the cold stone beneath her toes and hear the singing in his ears.

Struggling with this additional source of sensory input, Mike hid himself behind a stone pillar and clutched at his head, trying to shake it off. This was exactly how Cerberus found him.

He didn’t know how the hellhound sensed he was in trouble, and he wasn’t about to ask. They led him back to the tower where he promptly fell onto the couch and buried his face under the pillows. Both Sofia and Cecilia tried to ask him what had happened with Charlotte, but he just promised them he would explain as soon as he could and then promptly fell asleep.

His Dreamscape was a mess. The island looked as if a hurricane had hit it, and though the landscape itself was amorphous by nature, there were certain landmarks that heavily featured in his mind which had been moved around, almost as if someone had picked them up and dropped—

“Yeah, okay. I see what happened,” he muttered to himself. The darkness that dwelt in Charlotte’s soul and made her a vampyr had ripped pieces of his soul away. If he hadn’t reclaimed them, this would likely be a barren landscape now. He would be little better than the thralls that roamed the castle.

Still, the damage had been done. In his haste to restore some semblance of order, there hadn’t been time to focus on putting the pieces back to where they once were. Mike got a running start down the beach and leapt into the air, then spiraled upward to get an aerial view of the island. It had lost most of its color and been cast in shades of gray.

The worst damage had been done in the center, the house itself laying in ruins. He concentrated, his magic hissing in the air like static electricity as he rebuilt that part of his soul. When the house had been repaired, the vibrant colors of the siding and nearby bushes practically glowed in comparison to the dulled features of the island.

“Nice work, Romeo.” Lily hovered nearby, her wings flapping. “I was buried underneath some of that.”

“That surprises me.” Mike frowned at the rest of the mess. “Why couldn’t you just tunnel your way free or something? If anyone here could do it—”

“It would be me, because I’m fucking amazing.” Lily winked. “But we’re a mess down there. That weird fuzzy feeling in your head? It’s a hundred times worse for those of us who were squished up, twisted, and tossed about. I wasn’t even sure who I was while buried under that rubble.”

“Damn it.” Mike glared down at the landscape. “Can you help me with this?”

“Naturally. It’ll be way faster with two of us.” Lily moved behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, nestling her head against the back of his neck.

“That doesn’t feel like helping,” he muttered.

“This whole place is a giant metaphor and doesn’t have to follow logic,” she replied. “Now get to work.”

The next section were the gardens. The resistance and pressure he had felt from repairing the house had lessened, and the hissing sound in the air wasn’t nearly as loud. One segment at a time, he restored the island. Mike’s mind felt lighter with every piece that clicked into place.

“Never thought I’d be doing soul surgery on myself,” he said as the island neared completion.

“You did essentially take a chainsaw to it earlier,” said Lily.

“What was it like in here?”

“A big black waterspout on the horizon,” the succubus replied. “It came across the water and just ripped things into the air, but then it all came falling back down later.”

“Is…” Mike felt a sick feeling in his gut and he swallowed hard. “Is everybody still here?”

“Currently, yes. Some of us got pulled away, but you managed to bring us all back.” Lily rubbed his chest through his shirt. “Our souls are safe, thanks to you.”

He let out a massive sigh and the two of them descended to the island. Tink, Kisa, and Ratu were waiting on the beach in bathing suits, the goblin and cat girl playing in the surf.

“Nice work,” said Ratu, then jerked a thumb over her shoulder toward a nearby cliff. “New girl is that way.”

“Charlotte is here?” That was a bit of a surprise. He had only tried to retrieve his own soul from the woman.

“Yeah, about that.” Lily made a face, able to read his thoughts in this place. “This one wasn’t a trade, lover boy. She handed that piece over to you for free.”

“What?” Mike spun to face the succubus, who was now in a two-piece bikini. “That’s a thing?”

“It is,” she replied.

“A gift, freely given,” Ratu added. “In Avalon, of all places. The symbolism shouldn’t escape you.”

Mike nodded and walked toward the cliff. He could have flown, but he needed a bit more time to think about how Charlotte had arrived along with Avalon itself. It wasn’t just that she had somehow handed over a good chunk of her soul, but the realization that his magic was also Fae in nature. He had been using it in a place of power and things had already changed.

The visions he now experienced were a perfect example. He had seen his own demise. Cecilia’s hair had more red in it than ever, the mark of a mortal soul growing like a seed. The recent surge of his olfactory senses, which absolutely made him think of Cerberus.

He, Ratu, and Yuki had long surmised that the soul exchange was typically a one-time process that may have long term ramifications. As each piece of their soul grew inside his own, so too would his in theirs. However, either the process of soul growth had been accelerated during his time in Avalon or he had somehow performed a swap again, specifically with Cecilia and Sofia.

His mind went back to the bathtub, specifically to Cecilia. Cerberus had also been in the room when his magic went haywire, causing anyone within a certain radius to spontaneously orgasm.

Something about Avalon had already changed him. It may have been that Charlotte didn’t do anything special other than offer herself freely, a woman who seemed desperate for any other future than the one that Vincentius had written for her.

When he got to the top of the cliff, he found Charlotte sitting on the edge with Naia. The nymph turned and smiled at Mike, then rose and helped Charlotte to her feet.

“She’s very sweet,” said Naia. “I think she’ll fit in just fine.”

He couldn’t help but stare at Charlotte. Here, in his Dreamscape, she almost looked like a different woman. Gone was the general malaise of undeath, the young woman’s mouth quirked up into a smile. She wore modest clothing, the sort a proper young woman from the late 1800s would wear. Charlotte did a little curtsy for him, then gestured at the ocean behind her.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “I only wish that the rest of me could see it.”

“Well, once we get out of Avalon, I know a place I could take her,” he said.

“Good.” Charlotte moved close to him and took his hand in her own. “She deserves happiness, you know.”

“You speak like she’s a separate person.”

Charlotte nodded. “In a lot of ways, she is. The others here, they’re like a snapshot of the people you know in the real world, updating every time you interact with them on an intimate level. If they were sick in the real world, that wouldn’t translate here. What you see is pure, and untarnished.”

“I don’t know about pure,” Naia muttered, staring down the beach where Lily was currently getting trashed on margaritas with Tink.

“You seem to know a lot for someone who has only been here a little bit,” Mike said.

“Time works differently here,” she replied. “Naia has explained many things to me, but nobody here will tell me what a blumpkin is.”

“That was Tink,” Naia muttered. “Trying to corrupt the young and innocent.”

“She’s not that young,” Mike said. “Even with some basic math, she’s—”

“My body is much older than you think, Caretaker.” Charlotte stepped close to him, the scent of asphodel blossoms washing over him. “Vincentius has altered the flow of time on the island many times in the hopes of creating a stronghold to protect him. There were times of famine where some of us would leave the mirror world and wait a day in the real world while years passed in Avalon. Then they would return and feast anew. It was only after the incident with your predecessor that he locked the door and left time as it was.”

“So you got to leave the island?”

“Not me.” Charlotte smiled sadly. “I always stayed behind for the children.” The young woman looked down at the beach, where Ratu had summoned an earthen barrier to separate herself from the others. Yuki, Abella, and Amymone had arrived as well, summoning small hammocks to lounge in. “It will be strange not being in charge of anyone here. I can’t remember the last time I had nothing to do but relax.”

“It’s not always fun and games.” Naia winked at Mike. “There is still one person we have to keep out of trouble.”

“Then I shall do my part.” Charlotte took Mike’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied. Charlotte blushed and excused herself, walking slowly down the cliff and leaving Mike behind with Naia.

“She seems nice,” he said.

“She is,” Naia replied. “She is also very naive, and young. In spirit, anyway.”

“How so?”

“She was barely nineteen when she was turned,” Naia replied. “That part of her is locked in time and is unlikely to change in here. It is something that would serve you well to remember back in the real world, as well.”

“That I’m apparently the master of a nineteen-year-old vampyr?” Mike didn’t know what to think of that.

“It goes deeper than that and you know it.” Naia pressed herself against him, leaning her head against his chest. “She may be tough on the outside, but her heart is a fragile, delicate thing. It would serve you well to remember that.”

“I promise,” he said. After all, if Naia was making special mention of it, then it was absolutely important to know. “Are you all okay in here, now?”

“We are.” She stepped away and stared into his eyes. “But even better, you’re okay out there.”

Lifting her hand from his chest, she booped him on the nose, and he was suddenly awake, his eyes on the ceiling. The view was soon replaced by Cecilia’s concerned face.

“He’s awake,” she cried, then threw her arms around him and held him tight. Sofia came next, and Mike managed to gently push aside the banshee so that he could sit up. When he looked at the cyclops, she was scowling.

“Let me guess,” she said. “You fucked her.”

Mike didn’t even feign indignation at the accusation. “To be fair, I was just going there to let her drink my blood.”

“But you fucked her.”

“Yeah. Now we’ve got some sort of weird vampyr-master relationship and I don’t know how I’m going to find the proper Hallmark card for our first anniversary.” He rubbed at his face. “Turns out it messed up my soul, too, but I just fixed the damage. How long was I out?”

“A couple of hours,” Sofia replied. “We’re supposed to get ready for the party, too.”

He nodded. “Then we’re short on time. Just so you know, Vincentius thinks I’m a thrall right now and is planning to slaughter everyone.”

Sofia raised her eyebrow. “I doubt Hallmark has a card for that situation either. But it’s pretty much what we expected.”

“Yeah.” Mike rubbed his temples and slid off the bed. “Guess we’re going to be cutting things close. Is Taylor here already?”

“Not yet, but Cerberus smells him in the castle.” Sofia crossed her arms. “If you’re feeling pressed for time, you can give up on your idea regarding Excalibur. I think it’s a waste of energy.”

Mike’s eyes dropped to Sofia’s waist and he grinned. “I have it on good authority that pulling the sword from the stone is a double-win for me.”

“Pig.” Sofia chuckled. “You have no reason to believe you can claim it, so why bother?”

Mike smirked. “I mean, if you really want, we could go double-or-nothing on your bet.”

“It’s not even technically a bet,” said Sofia. “I don’t get anything if you fail. And it’s not like I have another ass to put on the line. You haven’t met that kind of woman.”

“Yet,” Mike joked. “I haven’t met that kind of woman, yet.”

Sofia snorted. “I have no idea how you can act so silly when everything has gone to shit.”

“It’s a form of self-medication at this point,” said Mike. “Angst, anxiety, and dread aren’t gonna do me any good later. At least, for now, my emotional self-denial allows me to be functional.”

Cecilia wrapped her arms around him from behind. “A ghrá mo chroí, I believe in you.”

“Thanks.” He smiled weakly. “That makes one of us.”

“Then one shall be enough.” Cecilia kissed his cheek just as a heavy door creaked down below in the main room of the tower.

“The tailor’s here,” yelled Sulyvahn. “And he brought Taylor with ‘im!”

“If we get out of this alive and transplant all these people, I’m giving them a book of baby names.” Mike stood up and stretched, then grabbed his stomach and winced. “Ow, damn. My abs hurt.”

Cecilia giggled and Sofia snorted.

“That’s what happens when you get into a tickle fight with a vampyr,” said Sofia as she moved toward the door. “C’mon, Cecilia. Let’s see what our dresses look like.”

The banshee clapped her hands and levitated out of the room, turning into a spirit and passing through the wall instead of the door. Mike stretched a few times, rubbed his sore belly, then walked out to see Taylor and his apprentice handing out garments. The man looked up at Mike and waved, then patted the large trunk he’d brought with him.

“It’s all ready, Lord Radley.”

“Call me Mike,” he replied, walking down the stairs. “It’s short for Michael, by the way. Or Mikey. Mickey. Michelangelo. Feel free to add these names to memory.”

“I’ll just call you m’lord,” said Taylor. “That way, I’m not stepping on any toes in regards to courtesy.”

Mike sighed and waited for Taylor to hand him his suit. There was a privacy screen nearby, which he used because he wasn’t wearing underwear. That, and also Taylor wouldn’t learn about the nagahide undershirt. Besides, showing your dick to strangers was considered rude, especially if they weren’t going to be on a first name basis, well…

He felt Charlotte snicker in the back of his mind and paused. She was clearly still plugged into his thoughts.

Are you there? he asked.

I am, m’lord. Charlotte giggled, and now he wondered if this was the one in his head or the real-world version. Wait, what do you mean by the one in your head? she asked.

Mike frowned. He could give her the boot, but wanted to see if she could behave on her own. It’s rude to just be in here reading my thoughts.

There was a moment of silence, and then she vanished. Mike let out a sigh and slipped into his clothes.

“Is everything okay, m’lord?” asked Taylor, clearly having heard Mike’s reaction to Charlotte.

“Yeah.” Mike was actually surprised at how comfortable the clothes were. The black slacks hugged his legs. The waistband was higher than he was used to and covered his lower stomach. A silken white shirt was next, but it was mostly hidden beneath the black and crimson tailcoat. He spent a few minutes checking the fit, then stepped out from behind the privacy screen to use the small mirror that was in the room.

“You look great.” Taylor came over and seemed to be wiping imaginary threads or dust from the shoulders of the jacket. “The eye of every woman will be on you tonight!”

Mike frowned at that statement, but still studied his reflection. He was just the right cross between badass and regal, and wondered how he would look with a sword slung across his hips.

Chuckling, he held up one hand and summoned a ball of lightning above his palm. Taylor stepped back as Mike admired himself in the mirror.

“Awesome,” he muttered. He looked like the hero out of a magical steampunk game. Well, minus the cool techno baubles. Maybe if he found some gears and stuck them to his lapels…

“Ye do cut a dashing figure,” said Sulyvahn from nearby. The dullahan was in a similar version of the outfit, but had a vest instead of a tailcoat. He was also wearing a top hat. “We be a pair of blokes ready fer a night on th’ town.”

“A couple of rogues,” Mike replied. “Women want us. Men want to be us.”

“Aye!’ Sulyvahn laughed, then turned to Taylor. “Ye did a lovely job.”

Taylor beamed, then spent a minute adjusting the fit of Mike’s sleeves. The tailor stood back and studied Mike with pride in his eyes, then clapped his hands together.

“You all are wearing my best work,” he declared. “I rarely get a chance to stretch my skills as I have in the last day.”

“You don’t make fashionable clothes that often?”

Taylor shrugged. “Usually, I just resize old clothing. Many outfits are just hand-me-downs anyway, and most people only have a single dress or suit for celebratory occasions.”

“That seems kind of sad, actually.” Mike frowned. “What sort of special occasions do you celebrate?”

“Weddings. Most births. Oh, and our Ascension day.”

“Ascension day?”

“When we meet with the Caretaker and ascend to Heaven,” Taylor said with excitement. “I’ve heard stories that Heaven has a bright blue sky that extends forever in every direction! The Caretaker told us all about how there are angels waiting to serve us for all eternity, and we’ll get to see our friends and family. The Caretaker’s father lives there!”

“Wait, hold on.” Mike put up a hand. “Who is the Caretaker’s father?”

“God,” Taylor said without hesitation. “The Caretaker cares for us here in the mortal realm. But his father cares for us in the afterlife!” Taylor puffed up and did a remarkable imitation of Vincentius. “My Father’s house has many rooms. If that were not so, I would not have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you.”

“Ah, okay.” Mike wondered what else Vincentius had decided to pick and choose from the Bible. Hell, the guy may have been around before all of it was written. Maybe he wasn’t familiar with the newer stuff. “If the Caretaker is the son of God, then is Jesus his brother?”

“Who is Jesus?” asked Taylor.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Mike said. “My mistake.”

Taylor, in fact, looked like he wanted to ask more, but a door opened above and Taylor’s apprentice came out. “They’re ready!”

The first out the door was Cerberus. The hellhound stood in a gothic dress with wide sleeves and a lacy neckline that barely contained their bust. The middle head stuck out her tongue at Mike while the other two smirked, and they stepped aside to allow the others to follow.

Cecilia was next. Her regal black A-line dress was tailored to fit above the one that was part of her body, but had been stitched with see-through panels that created the illusion of black fabric being part of the white that lay beneath. The banshee hovered in front of the door and did a twirl, revealing that she was still wearing simple flats on her feet.

“Do you like?” she asked. “I feel like a princess.”

“You look like a princess.” Mike smiled at her while Suly whistled.

Last was Sofia. The cyclops stepped through the doorway in a skintight black dress with intricate lace along the decolletage with slits on both sides that stopped at her hip bone. A corset pressed her breasts upward and somehow amplified her massive bosom, making her look even taller than usual.

“You’re staring,” she said with a grin.

“Yes, I am,” Mike admitted. “You look—”

“Breathtaking,” Cecilia interrupted. “Your soul is shining.”

Smirking at the compliment, Sofia walked toward the stairs. “Taylor was worried the fabric may rip, so he stitched in some stretch panels,” she said.

“How do they feel?” asked Taylor.

Sofia made it to the bottom of the stairs and raised her head to turn around, sticking her ass in Mike’s direction. She looked at Mike while answering Taylor.

“Like a second skin,” she said, running a hand along her ass.

“Hmm.” Taylor moved forward to inspect her and shook his head. “I didn’t think the slits would go this high, I must have mismeasured.”

“I like them this way,” said Sofia, who exchanged a glance with Cecilia. When the two saw Mike watching them, they turned away in the worst display of ‘nothing to see here’ that he had ever seen. After a moment, Sofia moved next to Mike and stuck out her hip in his direction. “You should feel the fabric,” she said. “I have no idea what it even is.”

“A special blend,” Taylor replied. “Material gifted to us by the Caretaker. If the material splits, we can sew it back together with thread and it will mend after a day or so.”

“Magical cloth?” Sofia asked. “Does everyone have this?”

“Only the vassals,” Taylor said. “Sometimes the Caretaker gifts it to villagers with the expectation it be returned on their death or Ascension.”

“Right.” The cyclops shrugged. “I have no idea what it could be.”

“We could always ask Nyx,” Mike said. “If she’d ever, you know, come here and talk with us. Has anybody seen her?”

“The Lady Nyx has been in town all morning collecting rocks and… cackling to herself.” Taylor frowned and started packing up his wardrobe. “It was quite unsettling to watch.”

“I wish I could explain her behavior,” said Mike. “But I firmly believe that’s beyond the means of a mere mortal like myself.”

Why was Nyx collecting rocks? Was she suddenly really into geology? Or maybe it was related to the Fae who were supposed to be here? If this was the precursor to something ominous, then he absolutely failed to see what the problem could be. It probably had to do with remembering things, but what could be so important that she ditched the group?

Taylor and his helpers left in a hurry so that they could go home and change before the big event. Mike spent some extra time complimenting the women on their outfits, Cecilia in particular. She kept holding the hem of her dressing and twirling back and forth, the fabric rising up as she spun.

When the time came to leave, the group exited the tower and headed into the main body of the castle. In its daunting hallways, they split up, the men headed for Camelot’s throne room while the women went to the party.

Mike and Sulyvahn moved quietly as the Caretaker used his soul sight to spot any potential thralls that were watching. The hallways were thick with spectral black lines, similar to the one that used to lurk around Charlotte. It made him think that the castle was like a body with Vincentius at its center like a malevolent heart, pumping darkness through its hallways.

When they got to the throne room, the door was unlocked. They cracked it open and slipped inside. After a quick check revealed that they were alone, Mike let out the breath he had been holding and rubbed his hands together.

“Stage one, complete,” he muttered, looking up at the window above the vacant thrones. If he closed his eyes, he could almost picture the people who used to roam these halls.

“Ye daydreamin’?” asked Sulyvahn.

Mike nodded. “A bit, yeah. It’s so weird to know that Arthur himself once sat up there where he could see his subjects.”

“More like look down on ‘em,” Sulyvahn replied.

“You really think he did?” Mike asked.

The dullahan shrugged. “I have no way o’ knowin’. My lot aren’t so keen on the idea of royalty these days.”

“Trouble at home?” Mike asked.

Sulyvahn snorted. “There always be trouble in the Courts. It’s like a storm of piss, that place. Can’t stand anywhere without gettin’ hit by somethin’ that stinks.”

“The Court doesn’t seem very keen on being ruled.”

The dullahan shrugged as he walked toward the massive stone in the middle of the room. “Ye have to realize it be different fer us. The man who sat up there, he was lookin’ down on a kingdom o’ people who used to be strangers. Becoming king meant that he took responsibility for ‘em.”

“Or was supposed to, anyway.”

Sulyvahn nodded. “Aye. Ye get a good king up there, he’ll do right by the people. A bad one will only take.”

“This is exactly why strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government.”

“The Lady of the Lake was just tryin’ to do right by humans,” Sulyvahn countered. “We were hopin’ that we could strike an accord, restore balance to a world that had forced magic out. It failed.”

“Clearly.” Mike made it around the rock and studied the hilt of the blade embedded there. It was remarkably simple in appearance, which surprised him a bit. Surely the Fae could have embellished it had they wanted to.

Or maybe its simplicity was meant to be symbolic that the sword would be used to protect the innocent and drive evil from the land. After all, nobody would have time to appreciate the filigree on the hilt except in times of peace.

“Did ye know it was our king who started all this?” asked Suly, his eyes on Arthur’s throne. “The man truly believed humans could turn it around.”

“There’s no saying that they can’t,” Mike replied, noticing the dullahan’s gaze. “What was he like?”

Suly shrugged. “I didn’a see him a lot. He and the Queen were like my sister and I. Alike in the ways that mattered, and different in the ways that mattered even more. She sings for those who go willingly, I hunt down those who don’t. He was the one who thought humans would become the way forward. In the end, his obsession o’er them was worth more to him than the Fae he had helped to create.”

“I think… maybe he was a man who thought he was helping his family, but got caught up in it.” Mike watched Suly’s soul to see what the man might be feeling. There was a bit of anger and frustration at the mention of the king, all bundled up beneath those thin, golden chains.

“I suppose it don’t matter either way,” Suly finally said. “The man is gone to us now. Ye should get a good tug on that blade, we’re short for time as it is.”

“Okay. So do you think there's anything special I need to do to pull this thing out?" Mike asked. The hilt of the blade was at a slight angle and made him think of a golf club ready to be pulled from its bag.

Sulyvahn laughed. "I don't reckon ye'd be able to pull it no matter what ye did," he replied.

"Then why did you come?"

"To describe the look on yer face to Cecilia when ye can't do it." The dullahan sat down on the steps beneath the throne. "She believes you can do it, and I suppose Cerberus does, too. But they'd be the only ones."

Mike scowled at Suly. "Lack of faith?"

"Lack of logic. It would take an act o' the Queen herself to let you draw the blade from... from..." The dullahan's face went slack as Mike promptly freed Excalibur and waved it around in the air in front of him.

"Get a good look at my face." Mike grinned playfully. "So you can describe it to Cecilia later." He had actually been a bit disappointed while yanking the sword out of the stone. When he had touched the hilt, he expected some sort of magical intelligence to appraise him, or maybe a voice in his head declaring his worth. If he didn't know any better, this was just a regular sword that someone had jammed in a rock.

"Unbelievable," Suly whispered.

"Unexpected." Mike held Excalibur up in the air, then attempted a fancy flourish. “We’ve come to expect it.” He performed a few strikes with an imaginary foe.

"What are those buzzing sounds yer makin'?" asked Suly.

"Lightsaber sounds." Mike chuckled. "Are you ready to be a good little astromech for me?"

The dullahan sighed and held out his hand. "If ye don't mind, I'll stick it in. Wouldn't want you to nick my spine."

"The whip?" Mike asked. "Or do you have a real spine in there, too?"

"Even I don't know what all is in there," Sulyvahn replied. "And I've taken my head off and looked."

Once Excalibur was in Sulyvahn's hand, he used the other to rip his head off, black smoke leaking onto the ground. Suly tossed his head to Mike, then used both hands to carefully guide the blade into his neckhole.

"It just occurred to me," Mike said with a frown. "There's not a bottomless hole in there, right?"

"Nah. I feel the tip o' the blade ticklin' the inside o' my leg." The dullahan's body stood up straight, the pommel of Excalibur now visible just above his neckline. "It won't go any further."

"Here." Mike handed Suly his head back. The dullahan put it back on and adjusted it a few times, then frowned.

"This is a one-time thing, yeah?" Suly's face crinkled up like he was going to sneeze. "I'm right uncomfortable."

"We'll find better ways to smuggle swords into a party next time," Mike promised as the two of them walked toward the door of the throne room. His heart was pounding in his chest as they moved another step closer to being free of this cursed place. With Vincentius gone, he could go home and start his journey for a cure anew.

Mike let out a sigh at the thought of how much crap he'd gone through for nothing. This caused Sulyvahn to clap him on the shoulder.

"It'll be okay," Sulyvahn said. "I'm sure yer plan to kill a powerful vampyr lord will work and we won’t end up in a fight for our lives."

Now Mike had two things to worry about. If they hadn't retrieved Excalibur, then the backup plan was to attempt an assassination with Sofia's blade. The other option was to fry Vincentius with Cerberus’ hellfire, but asking a vampyr to hold still for such a thing was a pretty tall order.

If all else failed, they would take the Disney approach and toss Vincentius into the pit, but that would likely create more problems than it would fix. It also didn't solve the issue of the vassals, two of which were guaranteed to retaliate.

Beheading Vincentius at a party with a sneak attack was still the best plan on a short list of awful ideas. Mike hated this fucking castle so much.

They slipped open the doors of the throne room and stepped into the hall. Upon walking a few feet down the hall, Galahad stepped around the corner wearing a set of white dress robes.

“You’re not supposed to be in there,” he said.

“Door wasn’t locked.” For someone who didn’t want people exploring the throne room, Galahad sure was shitty at securing the place. “I wanted to see it for myself.”

“And?” Galahad lifted his chin to look down his nose at Mike. “What did you see?” The man’s soul was all knotted up within a ball of darkness. His eyes held an exhaustion that made it seem as if he would crumble at any moment.

“An old man,” Mike replied. “So broken that he refuses to acknowledge the knight he used to be.”

Galahad glared at Mike so hard that Sulyvahn shifted nervously to the side. After a tense moment of silence, Galahad’s shoulders drooped.

“The man I used to be died quite some time ago,” he said. “Along with any hope of completing his mission.”

“For the Holy Grail?”

Galahad nodded. “The quest for the grail began with a vision from God. We were informed of a magical chalice containing the blood of His son, capable of granting everlasting life. With it, he would be able to live forever and guide mankind into a golden age.”

“God, huh?” Mike scratched at his chin and thought about what he knew about Arthur and the Fae. Had God actually sent a vision? Or had it just been Fae trickery? Honestly, there was no way of knowing for sure without asking someone like Titania, which he couldn’t do. Or maybe God had worked in tandem with the Fae, which didn’t seem to fit the big guy’s MO. “And you never found it?”

Galahad sighed. “I devoted an entire lifetime of service to Arthur. Many lifetimes. When I learned of his injuries, I came here to see him, only to learn that he did not survive his wounds. Upon speaking with the Lady of the Lake, I was forced to make a decision. Should I spend my final years on Earth searching for a holy chalice for a man who had already perished? Perhaps the grail was never meant to be found, or maybe someone else had found it. I had no way of knowing, and no leads to follow. That was when the Lady of the Lake gave me a choice.

“I ended up becoming a custodian of this place, the sole mortal on an island of immortals. I was to help watch this place and guard it from harm. In a way, that was the first death of Sir Galahad the Pure. This place became both my home and my living tomb, an eternal penance for my failure.”

“That sounds pretty harsh,” Mike replied. “So why throw your lot in with Vincentius?”

Galahad shook his head. “I did not have a choice. When he came, he slaughtered the Sisters of the Lake who were here and sealed this place using his powers. Then he turned me and commanded me to begin my search anew. The only reason I am here now is that I was one of the lucky few who made it back before this world was sealed away.”

“That doesn’t sound much like luck, friend.” Sulyvahn shook his head. “The opposite, really.”

“I failed in my penance, and now toil ceaselessly in damnation,” he replied. “This is but the shell of a foolish man who hoped and believed. I serve a new master now.” The vessels in Galahad’s eyes burst, his sclera turning red. “So were you able to do it? Did you pull Excalibur from its stone?”

Mike held out his hands, and Suly did the same. “I gave it a good yank,” Mike admitted, his heart beating fast. “But you can see the result for yourself.”

Galahad studied both of them, then took a step forward and appeared behind them, his hands going beneath Mike’s coat and feeling the small of his back.

“Then you are not chosen by God,” Galahad said. “The grail was never meant for you.”

“But if it were?” Mike asked. “If I had pulled that blade, what would have happened?”

The knight shook his head. “Then my existence would seem like a blessing compared to yours. You are late for the festivities, Lord Radley.”

“And thus, we take our leave, ser.” Sulyvahn gave the man a bow, and he and Mike walked past, leaving the broken knight behind them.

---

Beth sat at the large dining room table with two different notepads in front of her, and an empty mug. Death was currently filling it with a cinnamon tea he discovered…somewhere. He mentioned those details when he brought it in, but she had simply forgotten them.

At the table sat Ratu, Yuki, Reggie, Zel, Callisto, Grace, and Opal. The Arachne was busy coloring and was apparently ignoring the conversation which involved quite a bit of yelling from Zel. The centaur was angry about what had happened to her tribe, and it had taken her people roughly a day to come up with what they thought might be an accurate number of missing people. True to the word of the Fae, the missing had simply been forgotten until Callisto had informed his mother what had happened.

Callisto had shared the details regarding Halloween and what had happened in the greenhouse with everyone present. Beth didn’t like the faraway look in his eyes and had secretly asked Ratu and Yuki to ensure the boy hadn’t been cursed, ensorcelled, or any other version of the phrase “magically fucked with.” On the plus side, he was clean.

Sadly, that meant he was likely suffering from serious trauma.

The home had been sealed from sound with sorcery. Outside, a fog had settled across the lawn. Death assured them all that the house hadn’t been stolen away. He could easily walk out to the street where the fog ceased. However, the Unseelie outside had started making horse sounds shortly after Callisto was transported to the house via rat portal, an obvious attempt to elicit a reaction.

Zelenia had tried to step outside the front door with the crossbow hanging from her hip, only to be dragged back inside by Yuki.

“Please,” Zel begged, her body temporarily human from a magical bracelet on her wrist. She was leaning against the table with tears in her eyes. “Tell me there’s a way to get my people back.”

Beth didn’t know what to say. Without Sofia to look things up, the burden fell on Eulalie. The temporary Head Librarian was busy dealing with some crisis of her own and had been forced to set Kisa and Tink on the task. What little they found regarding the Fae taking people wasn’t good.

In the few cases where the Fae had actually returned someone they had taken, a heavy price had been paid.

Yuki put a hand on Zel’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. Ratu, who sat nearby and held a teacup to her lips, let out a sad sigh.

“It’s pointless,” she said.

“How can you say that to me?” Zel demanded.

“Because nobody else here wants to,” said Ratu. “I am not speaking to be unkind. Planting false hope will only prolong your suffering. Instead, we should be focused on more preventative measures for now, as that is actually actionable.”

Zel groaned and started pulling at her hair. “What am I going to do?” she groaned. “I promised I would protect them.”

Ratu sighed. “We all make promises we cannot keep,” she said. “At no point could anyone reasonably expect you to protect them from the Fae.”

“You wouldn’t know what it’s like,” Zel snapped. “You have NOBODY!”

Ratu narrowed her eyes at the centaur. “I know what it’s like to lose everybody,” she replied coolly. “Even if there was a way for us to speak with the Fae and negotiate, who would it be? The one who took your people? The mysterious figure who tried to take Beth?”

“You could speak with their Queen.”

As if she had been there the whole time, Titania leaned back in her seat and contemplated the ceiling. “For all the good it would do you.”

Zel acted instantly, drawing her crossbow and pointing it at the Queen.

“You send them home right now!” she declared.

“No.” Titania glared at Zel. “I won’t.”

“I’ll shoot,” Zel replied.

“Please wait,” said Death. He briefly moved between them and set a mug in front of Titania. “It’s a lovely cinnamon blend from a man I know who gets it from Sri Lanka. Will you partake?”

Titania nodded. “I approve.”

“Good.” Death poured Titania some tea and set a cellophane wrapped cylinder of crackers in front of her. “These are called almond thins. They are quite good.”

The Queen regarded Death with a tilt of her chin. “You provide good hospitality.”

“Indeed,” he replied. “I wrote my own book about it.”

“How are you even here?” asked Beth. “I thought the geas kept you out?”

“I am not physically here,” said Titania. “This is a psychic projection—”

The crossbow clicked, and a bolt passed through the projection and planted itself in the back of Titania’s chair. The Queen arched an eyebrow at the centaur.

“What was that supposed to be?” she asked.

“A gift,” Zel growled. “Freely given.”

Titania laughed. The sound immediately took Beth back to her childhood. For just a moment, she was nine years old and sitting on a swing. Summer was in full bloom, and she pumped her legs in an attempt to get even higher, perhaps to even kick the clouds above.

Then she was back. Beth blinked away the random memory as the Queen spoke.

“Wonderful,” she said, clapping her hands. “I see you are in the perfect mood for our conversation.”

“Give me my people back,” said Zel.

“No.” Titania picked up the mug and sipped from it. Beth narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out how a psychic projection could be drinking tea.

“Why not?” Zel demanded. “Based on what I surmise, members of your Court came to my land and tricked my people. Entire lives have vanished, and people are in mourning for friends and family they can’t even REMEMBER!” The centaur slammed her hand on the table. “WHAT HAPPENED TO OUR AGREEMENT?”

“You and I don’t have an agreement,” said the Queen.

“BUT YOU DO WITH THE CARETAKER!” Zel’s face was almost purple now. Yuki and Ratu moved behind her and gently wrapped their arms around her torso, trying to coax her away from the Queen.

“Which terms do you accuse me of violating?” she asked. “You should be very specific.”

“YOU’VE—” Zel paused and took a deep breath. “You brought harm to my people.”

“I’ve done no such thing,” Titania replied.

“Hold on,” Beth said, moving to place herself between Zel and the Queen. She turned to face the centaur. “I am your family’s attorney, you need to let me do the talking.”

“But I—”

“Nope.” Beth put a finger to Zel’s lips. “I’ve let you speak long enough, and should have stopped you after your gift. If not for your sake, then for his.” She turned to look at Callisto, whose features had gone white. He was currently sinking beneath the table, and probably would have disappeared if Grace hadn’t reached over to yank him up by the collar of his tunic.

“Fine,” Zel hissed. “Fix this.”

“I’ll do my best.” Beth turned to face Titania. “Your Majesty, my client has an accusation of harm against her people that was perpetuated by potential members of your Court.”

“Oh, that.” She nodded. “I know what you allude to.”

“So you admit her people were harmed?” Beth asked.

“I do not,” Titania replied. “No harm came to them, at least not when they were taken. Every single one of them chose to come freely, or traded that freedom away in exchange for something else.”

“But that’s—” Beth had been about to say ‘not fair’ but realized that statement was meaningless. “By convincing Zel’s tribe members to leave, irreparable harm has been done.”

“Explain.”

Beth gestured at Callisto. “Well, for example, the son of the Caretaker, who you have an agreement with, has become an outcast among his own people. They blame him for what has occurred, and now his social standing and perhaps his future have been damaged.”

“Do they really?” Titania picked up the almond thins and opened them, taking far too long for a being with four hands. Beth waited patiently, though she could hear Zel grinding her teeth behind her. “I believe the mortal term for that is foolishness. Nobody should fault the boy for his actions. To my knowledge, he should be commended for his quick thinking and getting my people to agree to leave you alone.”

“That’s not how the tribe sees it,” Zel muttered.

“That is their problem, not mine.” Titania crunched down on the almond thin and made a face. “Are these stale?”

“They’re supposed to taste that way,” said Death. “Many people like it.”

“I see.” Titania ate a couple more crackers and nodded. “The taste grows on me. To address your point regarding harm to the tribe, the boy’s unfair treatment does not constitute harm by our terms.”

“What about the emotional damage for the people left behind?” asked Beth. “There are parents mourning their children.”

“Children they would have forgotten if not for the boy,” said Titania. “I tire of this circular logic. Are you mortals so fragile that you believe true harm comes from the loss of somebody in your lives? How many friends have you casually forgotten, people who you thought you would see again, then simply never did? Do you blame them for not reaching out? Or maybe you blame yourself?”

“That’s not the point,” said Beth.

“Oh, but it is,” Titania replied. “If you would like to define harm as the emotional damage from missing somebody who has departed abruptly, then I would argue that you should be attacking him for it.” She pointed at Death. “Is he not the instrument of their departure? Yet he is welcome among you. In fact, I do believe that not a single one of you blamed him when you said farewell to the one known as Cyrus.”

For just a moment, Grace set down her crayon and stared at the Faerie Queen as if contemplating her words. The Arachne looked over at Death, then back down at her coloring book.

“Death is a natural process,” said Beth.

“So is walking,” said Titania. “And every single member of that tribe walked under their own power into the land of the Fae. My people are under an agreement to do those under the Caretaker’s charge no harm, but we are allowed to attempt trade and commerce, which the people of the Moon Tribe participated in.”

“Why are you here?” asked Beth, flustered by Titania’s dismissive nature. She realized this was a dead end. “And what could we do to get those people back?”

Titania smiled. “See? This would be the start of a potential trade, which is allowed under our accord. I have been chosen as a messenger by the Fae Court.”

Oh, Beth really didn’t like that. The Queen herself serving as a messenger had many layers. She studied the woman, trying to figure out what was the best play here.

“Why you?” Beth asked. “Why not someone else?”

“A good question,” said Titania. “After much debate, it was decided that I would be the best party to deliver that message. You see, it has become abundantly clear that you have no intention of answering your door. The Seelie and the Unseelie also distrust each other enough to not trust the other’s representative. Seeing as I had made an agreement with the Caretaker, it was suggested that I was well suited for this role.”

“A role which could be interpreted as beneath you,” Beth muttered.

“Quite,” said Titania. “Why should a Queen come personally to deliver a message? It is an odd decision on her part, yet it was the one her people chose.”

“I also notice that you haven’t delivered the message yet,” said Beth.

“You’re right. I have not.” Titania took another cracker, but didn’t eat it. “Should you ask for the message, I will deliver it promptly and return to the Court to let them know my task is done.”

The gears in Beth’s mind turned rapidly. Based on what she knew already, there were problems within the Court itself. Many wished to see the Queen deposed and were using her relationship with Mike as a potential excuse. The Queen was stalling for time. But why?

“You are very thoughtful for a human,” said Titania. “Usually, I can tell what your kind are thinking, but I am stymied by that silver coin in your pocket.”

Frowning, Beth pulled the coin out. It was cool to the touch, so the Queen wasn’t trying to read her mind right now. There was a message there, but what could it be?

“That’s right,” Beth said, tucking the coin away. “I’m on retainer and have Attorney Client Confidentiality.”

“You do.” Titania sipped at her tea.

“I find it strange that the Fae could not bypass something as simple as a coin,” said Beth.

“The coin has become symbolic,” said Titania. “It certainly helps that it’s made of silver. Chaotic though their nature be, the Fae choose to obey certain laws.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” Beth admitted. “In fact, it very much seems that the Fae just adhere to whatever rule serves their whimsy. For instance, Callisto here was under the belief that some of his people may have become slaves in your land.”

“My land does not forbid slavery and the centaurs were not US citizens.”

“Right, so I guess my question is which laws or rules do you actually follow?”

The Queen of the Fae chuckled. “While in your land, we tend to follow the rules you have set that make sense. Sadly, your Justice System lacks the application of good sense or logic for most laws that are written. Are your laws not written by common people with flaws of their own?”

Beth frowned. “They are.”

“Your position as a mouthpiece for the family makes sense. Likewise, this privilege of confidentiality is also logical. For us to choose to break our own word, to violate our own truths, well… it would destroy us.” Titania leaned forward at the table, steepling both sets of hands. “Once we have given our word on a situation, we cannot break it.”

“It’s essentially a Law of Nature at that point,” said Ratu. “You can challenge it. You can bend it. But it will not be broken.”

“And when it does,” said Yuki. “Reality itself breaks down.”

“And we certainly do not wish for reality to break down in the Fae Realm,” said Titania. “It is the one place safe from the Others and their urge to unmake all that exists, to consume it in a feeding frenzy.”

Beth raised an eyebrow. Whatever message the Faerie Queen was sending was still lost on her. She had brought up the coin in an attempt to speak about the rules. Why do that?

“Are you beholden to the same rules?” asked Beth.

“Indeed,” Titania replied. “I am woven from the fabric of reality itself and cannot place myself above my own bindings.”

“Which is how…” Beth clucked her tongue, more pieces falling into place. “Out of curiosity, could these same rules be used to replace you?”

Titania shrugged. “Any efforts to replace me would have to be planned well in advance and have the support of a majority of the Faerie Court before any truth presented could be powerful enough to remove me.”

“What would happen if you were removed?” asked Beth. “Do you become like the other Fae?”

The Queen shook her head. “It is likely that my successor will simply become me. The being before you shall cease to be, and a new one chosen by the others will exist in my place as if they had always been.”

“That… huh.” Titania’s answer was confusing, but Beth thought she understood. “So whatever agreement we had would be—”

“Decided by the next Queen, yes.” The Queen sipped at her tea. “It would also be retroactive. From our perspective today, it would seem as if the past itself had changed. It could be as simple as a limitation on our agreement that ends now. Or perhaps I withdrew my support for Cecilia and Sulyvahn remaining here. On a bigger scale, my decision to force the Fae into their own realm for their protection may not have happened, and the Fae now roam the world at large again, making what happened to the Moon Tribe look like a tiny accident.”

“That’s time paradox nonsense.”

Titania shook her head. “Not quite. Everything would still happen exactly as it has before. You would just remember it otherwise. Past events are typically immutable, but just like any Law of Nature—”

“It could be challenged or bent.” Okay, Beth thought she understood what she was being taught here, but not the purpose. She studied the Queen, who now sat silently and nibbled on her crackers. “Is there anything else you wish to share with us before your message?”

Titania shook her head. “There is not. In fact, anything discussed prior to our message was just the typical idle chatter between a host and her guest, save for the Moon Tribe’s Chieftain’s baseless accusations of harm.”

Zel tried to lunge for the Queen, but Yuki interceded, calming the centaur.

Beth studied the Queen again, that last statement far clearer than any other. It was the same answer the Queen would give the Courts when she returned to debrief with them.

“What is your message?” asked Beth.

Titania nodded and looked over at Grace. “The Court would like you to know that they have accused Gracelynn Penelope Radley of violating the current agreement between myself, the Queen of the Fae, and the Caretaker, Mike Radley.”

Death, who had been looking at a map of Mars, paused and looked up at the Queen, his eyelights shifting colors.

“That is a very serious accusation,” he said.

“Am I speaking with you or the family’s attorney?” asked the Queen.

“All things speak to me eventually,” Death whispered, his eyes burning hot. “You would do well to remind the Court of this.”

“And I shall.” Unbothered, Titania looked at Beth. “What say you?”

“That is a very serious accusation,” said Beth. “What is it that the Court demands of us?”

“A trial,” said Titania. “I am to remain a neutral observer and am only to execute the wishes of the Court once judgement has been passed.”

Scowling, Beth picked up one of her notebooks. “Typically, in a trial, one side must present the other with any evidence.”

“Much of it will be circumstantial,” Titania admitted. “However, the key offense is related to the memory of one Callisto Radley, who witnessed Gracelynn using a spell from the Grimoire to harm a member of the Unseelie Court.”

“Can I see this memory?” asked Beth.

“You can at the trial,” said Titania. “Which will take place in 48 hours.”

“What?” Beth almost dropped her paper. “You expect us to prepare for a trial in two days?”

“No. What preparation is needed when you can only speak truths at such a thing?” Titania gestured at Grace. “The time difference is great enough right now that 48 hours for you will be just enough time for the noble families to gather together to witness such a thing. To me, I will be seeing you again in about an hour.”

“We need more time,” said Beth.

“Denied. In 48 hours, you and Grace are to proceed outside where a portal will be provided. You may bring other members of your family along with any evidence you deem important.”

“But…but!” Beth didn’t know what word came next. “We haven’t violated any agreement!”

“That is what you must prove. You see, Counselor, the agreement has been breached. Wrongdoing has occurred, and it can be felt through the very firmament of our words.” Titania stood. “Right now, all evidence points to the child as being the aggressor.”

“But her father isn’t here!” said Beth.

“Yet you were hired to speak for the family. It matters not.”

“Your people started this!” shouted Zel. “Why didn’t you keep them under control?”

“I am consistently in charge of thousands of beings powerful enough to rip your world apart.” Titania’s golden eyes flashed. “Those are big words for someone who allowed her son to sneak away from her very tiny village on Halloween night.”

Zel went white and sank into the nearest chair.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” said Beth. “So, what, we just prove that Grace didn’t start it, right?”

Titania snickered. “You must prove that someone else did.”

“What will happen to the child?” asked Death. “Should she be proven guilty?”

“That is for the Court to decide,” said Titania. “And it will be my duty to execute their demands.”

And therein lay the trap. It was extremely likely that the Court already had a horrifying fate set aside for Grace. Should the Queen fail to punish the girl, then she would be replaced. If Titania obeyed, then Mike would likely retaliate somehow.

“What if we don’t come?” asked Beth. “What if we stay inside?”

Titania’s eyes glowed malevolently. “Do not make yourself an enemy of the Fae Courts,” she said. “The Geas protects you for now, but courtesy and the rule of law is the only thing that have kept these walls from being torn asunder. Should you not show up, the child will be deemed guilty by default and I will be the one to retrieve you.”

Beth shivered. “It was just a question,” she said. “I have one more.”

“Ask.”

“If we can prove that someone else started this, then who decides their punishment?”

“Once again, the Court.” Titania paused. “However, should the Court itself be found guilty, you will be given the chance to demand recompense.”

“Recompense?” Ratu leaned forward in her seat. “Instead of punishment?”

“Mortals are seen as temporary beings. The Fae may be expected to compensate a mortal, but it can never be the other way around.”

“That hardly seems fair,” said Yuki.

“And we’ve already established that fairness doesn’t matter,” said Beth before Titania could speak. “Demanding the death of a Fae is to sever a life that could have continued for billions of years.”

“I believe you understand.” Titania looked at everybody. “You should also know that the Court demands that you return the Grimoire. They firmly believe that such a powerful object is not safe in mortal hands. Bring it with you.”

“What if we don’t?” asked Beth.

“I like your questions,” said Titania. “You are not on trial for the ownership of the book, and would be free to attempt to make a trade. Just remember that the Fae are capable of giving a great many things, so weigh your options in advance.”

The Faerie Queen waited for several seconds, studying each of them. When nobody spoke, she bowed her head. “My message has been delivered. Upon leaving, the Fae outside your home will also depart in order to return for the trial. If there are no further inquiries to the nature of—”

Titania was interrupted by Grace tugging on the hem of her dress. The Queen looked down at the child who had touched her and frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Gift.” Grace held up a piece of paper. On it, she had drawn a picture of herself and the Faerie Queen holding hands and smiling. There was definitely an emphasis on Titania’s extra set of arms, along with large loops of yellow that were the Queen’s wings. “Freely given.”

Titania seemed taken aback and carefully took the child’s drawing. She looked at it for nearly a minute as everyone remained in complete silence. Slowly, the Queen looked up at the others.

“Gift accepted,” she declared, then vanished. Beth moved to the other side of the table to inspect the tea and crackers to see if they had actually been eaten or if it had been an elaborate glamour. It seemed to be no trick. How had a psychic projection consumed food?

“She took Grace’s drawing,” said Ratu.

“And the crossbow bolt,” added Yuki.

Beth stared at the empty seat, her heart now slamming against the inside of her chest. “Yuki. Get ahold of Kisa and have her tell Mike what’s going on. Callisto?”

The boy emerged from his hiding spot beneath the table. “Yes?” he asked meekly.

“We need to go over your story for ourselves,” said Beth. “As for Grace, I—”

The Arachne put two fingers to her mouth and whistled. Tick Tock, still shaped as a backpack, came hopping into the room, its tongue lolling from the open zipper. Grace stuck her hand into the bag and pulled out a metal jar, which she gave a good shake.

Inside the jar, something screamed.

“Oh, fuck me,” Beth groaned.

---

Mike and Sulyvahn strolled across the long bridge that separated the village from the castle, their boots clacking on the stones beneath. Up ahead, it looked like a bonfire had been thrown together, and the villagers were playing music and dancing.

“I almost feel bad fer them,” Sulyvahn muttered.

“Because their entire world is going to change soon?” asked Mike.

The dullahan shook his head. “That’s a tomorrow problem. I was referrin’ to ruinin’ their party. These people deserve a little fun.”

“Maybe you can show them how.” Mike raised his eyebrows. “The Fae are known for their parties.”

“Aye, but not my folk,” said Sulyvahn. “As far as other dullahans go, I’m quite the rebel. Talkin’ and cavortin’ with the mortals like I’m one of you.”

“You are one of us,” Mike replied. “Not a mortal, but a member of the family.”

The dullahan looked like he wanted to say something, but just shook his head. “I dunno ‘bout all that,” he replied. “Beth treats me right, but I don’ feel the same connection Cecilia does with ye. I feel like I’m on the outside lookin’ in.”

“Beth is complicated,” Mike said. “And I’m not going to pretend I fully understand her, either. Sometimes, I feel like we’re getting close, but the distance between us continues to widen.”

“That be yer status,” Sulyvahn replied. “And how the Fae magic be changin’ ye. She’s tryin’ to keep up with a rocket even though all she’s been given is a bike.”

“Have you ever ridden a bike?”

Sulyvahn snorted. “It’d make my horse jealous.”

Mike laughed. “You know what? I have a question about that. Is your horse just an extension of you, or is it a separate entity?”

“Ah, now we be gettin’ to the personal bits.” Sulyvahn waggled his eyebrows. “What if I said it’s both?”

“Does your horse get bored?” asked Mike. “Is your… package hurting it?”

“Now ye be askin’ ‘bout me package, we’re closer than ever!” Sulyvahn laughed. “The horse be fine.”

“Does it have a name?”

Sulyvahn nodded. “Of course it does! Ye think I be ridin’ a nameless steed all these years without a proper name fer it?”

Mike waited, but Sulyvahn didn’t continue. “And?” He asked. “What do you call it?”

“Stubborn donkey, miserable bastard, gobshite mare,” Sulyvahn replied. “Even for a Fae beastie, it’s temperamental.”

“You don’t have any nicer names?”

Sulyvahn shrugged. “When we be gettin’ on like a pair o’ thieves, I call it—”

“There they are!” shouted a woman on the other side of the bridge. Mike noticed a small crowd of women clustered together, dressed up in their finest gowns. He couldn’t help but notice that they seemed to range in age from fourteen to maybe their mid-twenties.

He believes you to be under my control, whispered Charlotte in the back of his mind. He looked around to see where she might be, but couldn’t see her. These women are all of child-bearing age and ovulating. The only reason he still maintains the charade is because the villagers would be suspicious if the party was cancelled.

Gross fucker, Mike replied.

Hit on them, Charlotte said. Make him believe from the start that things are going his way. That you are a compliant stud, ready to sow your seed.

Will that really fool him? asked Mike. He’s not an idiot.

He’s essentially a god here, Charlotte replied. And right now, he has every reason to believe that he’s already won. Don’t convince him otherwise.

This is so gross, Mike replied, then turned his attention to the crowd of women. They were clustered together and waving hankies to get his attention. Letting out a quiet sigh, he wandered in their direction.

“Hello, ladies,” he said, letting just the tiniest trickle of his magic out. One of the younger women gasped, turned bright red, and fainted into the arms of another woman who looked like an older sister. Mike fought the urge to roll his eyes and did a little spin before pulling out the double finger guns with a wink at the sister.

She dropped her unconscious sibling on the ground and fanned her face.

Is that how men flirt in modern times? asked Charlotte.

Only the weirder ones, he replied. It’s not like Vinnie will know the difference.

And it works?

Depends on the man. Mike knelt down to help up the unconscious girl, then passed her off to someone random. “I look forward to dancing with you all later,” he said.

“Me, too!” added Sulyvahn with a grin. A few of the women smiled politely at him, but it was clear that Mike was meant to be the star of the show. That was totally fine with him. The more eyes on his body, the better.

At Mike’s official entrance into the open clearing just past the bridge, a band struck up and everybody shouted. It was odd to see so much jovial behavior, but then it occurred to him that these people had short lives and few occasions to celebrate it. Maybe this was exactly what they needed.

People immediately started dancing, and Mike suddenly felt homesick for the Moon Tribe. He and Kisa made regular trips down to the greenhouse for their parties, and the centaurs and his familiar had spent enough time teaching him how to do a two-legged version of some of their moves.

He was instantly accosted by some more women and pulled onto the dance floor. Whirling about from one woman to another, he scanned the area to get a feel for where everybody was. Sofia was circling the edges of the clearing, pausing to speak with the occasional native. Cecilia and Cerberus were dancing with a bunch of children by the fire. The kids cheered every time the banshee levitated, and the smaller kids were content to just hold hands in a circle with the hellhound.

Several gargoyles were also in attendance. Many of them were wearing some type of ear protection, with a couple actually mingling with the villagers.

The vassals were interspersed throughout the gathering. Galahad looked to be giving advice to an older couple. Gerard lurked in the shadows, the villagers avoiding him while he wrote in a journal. Victoria and Decima wandered amongst the humans, false smiles planted on their faces.

Of Vincentius, there was no sign. Mike didn’t see Charlotte either.

Where are you? he asked.

A child ate too many snacks and got sick, she replied. I am helping her clean her dress so we will return to the party in a minute.

Mike’s attention switched to the woman with whom he was dancing. She had pressed herself close against him, the bodice of her dress shifting to reveal more of her cleavage. It almost appeared that she had tugged it down herself.

Clearly, this village lacked any sort of modern developments, but some things were timeless. He continued dancing with the woman and noted her severe look of disapproval when someone else cut in. Eventually, Charlotte reappeared at the edge of the party with a ten-year-old girl, who she gently guided toward other children her own age.

Charlotte truly cared for these people. No matter what happened next, Mike would make sure they weren’t left behind to rot.

“May I have this dance?” The voice startled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see Victoria.

“Of course, Lady Cecilia,” he replied. Victoria’s grip was like iron as her hands found his and the two began a slow dance that the band had started playing. She leaned into him, her breath somehow cold against his skin.

“You’re quite the lucky man,” she whispered. “You get to bed so many of these women.”

“I am very lucky,” he replied, but definitely not in reference to what she had said. Could vampyr tell if he was lying?

Hey. Can vampyr tell if I’m lying? he asked.

Yes, Charlotte replied. But it’s through changes in the body that we notice.

“You know, it’s been awhile since we’ve had a proper stud around here.” Victoria nibbled at his ear. “I bet Father would let me play with you. Gerard was never into women, and Galahad is… well… a prude.”

“What about Lady Charlotte?” he asked. “Won’t she be upset?”

Victoria squeezed his wrist so hard that it felt like it might break. “It’s not up to her. Father makes all the decisions.”

“Is… the Caretaker really your father?” he asked.

The vampyr let out a laugh, then pressed herself against him. “He is the father of all vampyr,” she whispered. “But he turned me personally. When it is safe to return to the world of man, I will stand above all others and rule at his side.”

When Mike tightened up, she chuckled in his ear. “Does it scare you to know what we are? Do you remember what it felt like to have your blood drained, to feel your lifeforce ebbing? Are you worried that I would do the same?”

“Maybe?” he squeaked.

“You’re safe,” she said. “For now, anyway. Thralls favored by Father can live for hundreds of years, potentially thousands. Play by the rules and you will be around for a very, very long time.”

“May I cut in?” Sofia smirked down at Victoria, who stepped away demurely.

“Of course,” she replied with a grin. “I can’t wait for dinner with you later.”

“Likewise,” the cyclops replied, then slid into Mike’s arms.

He didn’t dare thank her, now worried that any of the vampyr may be listening. Victoria’s words weighed heavily on his mind. If Vincentius was truly the first, the progenitor of all vampyr, where had he come from?

But most of all, who was he so afraid of?

The festival, celebration, or whatever it was supposed to be now continued for another couple of hours, which caused Mike’s anxiety to skyrocket. Vincentius still hadn’t arrived, and Charlotte didn’t know where he was. Women were throwing themselves at him now, and with the addition of hard apple cider, inhibitions had been dropped. Younger children were ushered away by their older siblings as bedtimes came, leaving just the grownups behind.

When Vincentius arrived, it was as if he had been there all along. The man stood in the center of the crowd, smiling at the villagers and decked out in black clothing. His skin was unusually pale, and Mike finally got a good look at his face without the glamour.

Haunting was the best word for it. He looked simultaneously young and old, his features youthful but his eyes ancient and predatory. The man reminded Mike of a hawk or lion stalking their prey, and half expected the man to swoop in and snatch up a young maiden for himself.

“Are we having a good time?” he asked everyone. The villagers cheered and greeted him as they would an old friend. The man gestured for some of the men to get down on the ground before him. As if it were a common party trick, they got on their hands and knees to form a platform for Vincentius, who casually stepped up onto them so that everyone could see him.

“We are gathered here today to formally greet our new friends, including Mike Radley.” Vincentius gestured toward Mike, his fingers uncurling slowly. “Lord Radley will be ushering in a new age for the village, as he has agreed to remain with us permanently.”

There was more cheering, and several villagers slapped Mike on the back and sort of ushered him toward Vincentius. The vassals watched from the edge of the crowd while Sofia and Sulyvahn casually moved into position nearby Vincentius, as if to listen to him.

Charlotte swept through the crowd until she stood next to Mike, her hand on his shoulder.

Keep his attention on us, he told her. At all costs.

Of course, she replied.

“Ever since the plague robbed this village of a generation, we’ve been struggling to come back from it. You and your kin have made me very proud,” he said, those fingers curling into a fist. “You are survivors. We are survivors.”

Now people were slapping each other on the back, marinating in their keeper’s compliments. Sofia and Sulyvahn were almost directly behind Vincentius now.

“But this man will bring new vitality to our people,” he continued. “For not only does he possess the ability to harness and wield magic, but he also brings with him knowledge of the outside world, information that could greatly improve our own lives here.”

Now more people were clapping Mike on the back. Charlotte looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

Once the clamor settled, Vincentius’ features turned serious. “However, rebuilding and growing will take hard work and a willingness to bend the rules. I prayed on this idea with the Creator himself, and ask that you withhold judgement. We need children, healthy ones to carry the burdens of tomorrow.

“The easiest way to do this is to break the tradition of marriage itself, to allow Lord Radley the opportunity to sow his seed with many young women all at once.” Vincentius turned to Mike with sadness on his face. “Lord Radley feels the same way I do about marriage and was opposed to it. He also believes that a proper union is between one man and one woman.”

“Damn right!” yelled some guy in the back.

Vincentius looked in the man’s direction. “But after exchanging words with the holy Father, our duty to others is far more important than a singular rule. Lord Radley has agreed to marry Lady Charlotte and enjoy a proper marriage with—”

The man’s words were silenced by the absolute roar of the crowd. Men and women alike were coming up to hug Charlotte and congratulate her on the pending union. Mike could tell that Vincentius was irritated, but didn’t want to disrupt the positive vibes for a moment. Over at the edge of the crowd, he saw Victoria look at Charlotte and mouth the word ‘whore’.

Once the crowd had settled, Vincentius held up his hands to get their attention. “While wedded to Lady Charlotte, it will be his duty to grow the next generation. Every woman of child bearing age will be available to him, and no woman who has his child shall be shunned for what we previously saw as an indiscretion.”

This comment was far less popular than the previous. The villagers muttered to each other, and Mike noticed that nobody was slapping his back now.

“Caretaker?” A man near Mike held up a hand. “You said all women. Does this mean our… wives will be required to… participate?”

Vincentius smiled. “There is no requirement,” he said, which caused a massive exhalation of relief. “We do not wish to disrupt any relationships here, and—”

“I’d be proud if my wife carried Lord Radley’s baby!” shouted a farmer near the edge of the clearing. His wife, who stood nearby holding his hand, suddenly had a very hungry look.

“Yeah, let us do our part!” shouted a woman somewhere else.

Mike’s left eyelid twitched as he listened to people arguing over whether they wanted him to bang their wives, then let out a sigh. Apparently the sanctity of marriage here was about as thin as the paper it was written on. And he doubted they kept written records.

Vincentius, however, seemed very pleased. He didn’t seem to notice that Sofia and Sulyvahn were now directly behind him, the dullahan tugging at the collar of his shirt as if uncomfortable. Sofia moved to see what had irritated Suly’s neck, the dark seam there barely visible.

The false Caretaker held up his hands for silence again. The men he was using as a table were starting to sweat.

“These are big changes,” he continued. “But necessary ones. So many years ago, our home was beset by tragedy and many lives were lost. Today, with the help of Lord Radley, we can finally undo—”

“LIES!” The shadows cast by the bonfire gathered together in the middle of the crowd like bubbling ink. They rose together into a small column and then receded, revealing Nyx. The Fae princess’ eyes gleamed with intensity as she pointed a finger at Vincentius. “You are naught more than the sower of untruths!”

Vincentius didn’t even react, his features now like stone. “That is a bold accusation for one who is a guest in my—”

“AVALON BELONGS TO THE FAE!” Nyx hovered into the air until she was eye level with Vincentius. Behind him, Suly had twisted his head to one side as Sofia pretended to rub at a sore spot. In fact, once the moment presented itself, the dullahan would tilt his head away, allowing Sofia to draw Excalibur and behead Vincentius. Inadvertently, Nyx was providing an even better distraction than Mike could have planned.

“I see no Fae here other than you, Lady Nyx.” Vincentius crossed his arms. “This place was vacant when I came. I made it something more.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Mike saw Galahad duck away as if in shame.

“MORE LIES!” Nyx pointed at Vincentius, then pulled what looked to be an enormous bucket from the shadows of her cloak. “I shall prove it!”

“I will not tolerate an act of violence here,” Vincentius warned. Mike was surprised when the man armed himself with a large spear out of nowhere. It was identical to the one he had seen in the vision with Natalie, but now he got a closer look at it. The head of the spear was unusually large and seemed to be made of iron. The haft of the spear was some type of black wood that matched Vincentius’ aesthetic.

“Remember,” Nyx hissed as she overturned the bucket. Pebbles fell like sand, pausing in midair as they assembled into a humanoid figure with its arms and wings outstretched in pain. The crowd went silent as they watched a fragmented gargoyle appear before them.

“Remember,” Nyx repeated, and the world trembled. The bonfire and the villagers vanished as everyone was plunged into a different time and place. There was screaming and panic as humans ran through the village from Victoria and Gerard, both of them pausing to drain a young woman who had fallen in the streets.

The scene shifted rapidly, like a montage in a movie trailer. One moment, the gargoyle was helping people escape, the next, Decima was eating someone like a snake. Vincentius himself made several appearances in the distance as he lifted adults to his mouth and drained them into withered husks.

“REMEMBER!” Nyx commanded, and the gargoyle fell into an alleyway where it was finally ambushed by the vampyr. It cried out in agony as its body was pinned, flexed to the absolute limit until—

The vision popped like a soap bubble, revealing a different kind of frozen world. The villagers were staring at Vincentius, who had taken a single step forward and thrust forward with the point of his spear. The head was now lodged firmly in Nyx’s sternum, the Fae princess’ eyes wide with surprise as she looked down at the weapon that had just killed her.

With that single step, Vincentius had stepped out of range of Sofia and Suly, who had also been caught up in the vision.

“That’ll be enough of that,” said Vincentius. Any comfort or familiarity that he had faked earlier was gone. He scanned the people, studying them with the eyes of a killer, a man who knew he stood on the brink of losing everything. The few gargoyles in attendance had also gone still, but Mike didn’t know if they were in shock too or just had resting stone face.

“Re…” Nyx spat out a gob of blood and looked down at the weapon stuck in her chest. Grasping it firmly in both hands, she took a gasping breath and furrowed her brow in concentration.

“Remember,” she whispered as magic and blood poured from her body, and the head of the spear obeyed.

A high-pitched tone sounded, and Mike was seized by similar images of the massacre in the village. He felt like he was falling now as he watched every man, woman, and child that Vincentius had slaughtered over the centuries. Sometimes he used his teeth, or even his hands, but usually it was his blade. The spear’s memories centered on death and violence, and of both, there was plenty.

The spell was much like the Dreamscape, and what felt like minutes or even hours was all presented in a fraction of a second, instantly embedded in Mike’s mind like a rancher branding their cow. He fell to his knees as death surrounded him, the memories stretching and distorting until only a final scene remained.

They were on a hill, overlooking a city with giant walls. The spear was much longer now, and had just been stabbed into a man’s chest, just between the ribs. The man was on a cross, and the wielder of the spear was a mere soldier.

The wound bled freely. Mike didn’t know what the soldiers were saying to each other, and could only watch in awe as a very young, very human Vincentius stood beneath the cross and opened his mouth to catch the flowing blood on the tip of his tongue like a child catching a snowflake. He smirked at his fellows who looked at him with disgust, then gazed up into the trickling flow and let the blood wash over his face.

This memory rippled like water, and the village was back. Vincentius’ pupils had narrowed to pinholes as he looked out over those who were gathered. They were still frozen in terror from what they had just witnessed.

Vincentius licked his teeth, which had elongated. He lifted up the spear, which still had Nyx impaled on the end. If the princess was still alive, Mike had no way of knowing.

“Gerard.” He turned his head to face Charlotte’s brother. “Have your drawings gather a group of young women capable of pregnancy. Lock them in the castle. Charlotte, collect the children who have gone home already. Tell them a new plague has begun.”

The First Vampyr turned his gaze on Mike. “Meet Gerard at the castle. You are to begin your duties immediately.”

“What of us, father?” asked Decima, hopping up and down on the balls of her feet. She already knew what was coming.

“My children shall feast this night,” he said, then held Nyx toward Decima. “Dispose of this.”

The vampyr giggled and opened her mouth, the bones cracking as her maw became like a snake’s. The villagers screamed and tried to run, but Victoria and Gerard were already intercepting them. The latter had tossed his journal on the ground and inky aberrations were grabbing people.

Nobody was paying attention to Sulyvahn, who had knelt down and yanked away his head. Nor were they looking at Sofia as she drew Excalibur from his neckhole.

Vincentius swung his spear backward without looking, launching Nyx’s body through the air in a move that was clearly expected to simply parry the blow from behind. There was a look of surprise on his face when the butt of the spear was cleanly sliced apart, the blade flashing silver as it kept going and passed neatly through his neck.

Gasping, the vampyr stumbled forward, his hands somehow reaching up to hold his head in place as dark blood ran freely down his front and back. He spun around to face Sofia, his bloodshot eyes going directly to the blade in her hand.

“How?” he whispered.

“It was a pain in the ass,” Sofia replied, her eye flicking toward Mike. “Or it will be, anyway.”

The vassals froze, all watching their leader. Vincentius looked at the spear half on the ground, then up at Mike. Those calculating eyes suddenly seem to see everything so clearly.

“This means war,” he whispered as his body turned into a dark mist and shot along the ground, moving beneath the terrified villagers. At the castle in the distance, a trumpet sounded, followed by the sounds of drums and grinding stone.

“What the hell is that?” Mike asked.

“I don’t know,” Charlotte whispered in reply.

All around them, screaming began as the vampyr started to feed.