Dark Swan Comic 1-4

  Around us, I felt the tingling of a banishing. Roland was opening up a hole to the Otherworld. He chanted the words and then snapped, “Eugenie, get away!”

  I did, jerking backward lest I get sucked in with the choking gentry. Power crackled around him, and a moment later, he disappeared, shoved back to his own world.

  Silence fell. I was sitting on the now-muddy ground, soaking wet with my heart pounding. Roland walked over and extended his hand to help me up. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  He snorted. “You can’t end a call like that and not expect me to show up.”

  “True,” I said. I was weak and woozy from the combat and the magic, and my bare legs were skinned up from the fight. I’d need some soap and antiseptic. “Thanks.”

  Roland shrugged, not needing my thanks. Even in the dimness, I could see the angry look in his eyes. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

  Seeing as I’d just done several things, I wasn’t entirely sure which he was referring to. “What do you mean?”

  “That.” He pointed to the spot where we’d banished the gentry. “You were…you were using magic to choke him!”

  “I was keeping him subdued while you banished him,” I growled, unwilling to admit I was kind of freaked out myself. It had all happened so fast. My only impulse had been to incapacitate the gentry. The means had just sort of happened. Realizing what I’d done—again—gave me a sick feeling. I’d sworn I’d never do it.

  “Pinning him with the athame would have worked! Where the hell did you learn to do that?”

  “I’ve picked up a few things here and there.”

  Roland’s face was a mask of fury. “You have no business using that kind of magic, Eugenie. None.”

  My own anger was growing. “In case you’ve forgotten, that magic is in my blood.”

  “No,” he said softly. “I haven’t forgotten. Which is why it’s so important you don’t use it. What else can you do? How long have been using this kind of power?”

  “It’s not important. I can do a few things—things that have kept me alive when assholes like this come try to rape me—and it’s not a problem. I can control it.”

  “You need to stop this. You need to stay away from the gentry. You’re getting too involved with their world, with their magic….”

  “It’s part of who I am. You can’t change that. And if you didn’t want me taking drastic steps, then why’d you break the wards?”

  Roland frowned. “I didn’t. I thought that gentry had.”

  “No, he crossed them, but his buddies were locked out—for a while, at least. Then I heard someone undoing them. It was our kind of magic. I thought it was you.”

  “Why on earth would I do that?”

  “Then some other shaman did.” The accusing tone in my voice provided no need for elaboration.

  “Stop this. Art and Abigail aren’t out doing what you think. They certainly wouldn’t break the wards so gentry could attack you. You think they’re out in your neighborhood right now? One of the gentry must have done it. You were probably distracted.”

  “Have you lost all faith in me? All you keep saying tonight is that I’m wrong, that I’m mistaken. Roland, I know what shamanic magic feels like. Just like I know what gentry magic feels like, especially considering—as you keep pointing out—I use it all the time.”

  I’m not sure which part of my tirade did it, but I could tell he was done with the conversation. There was something weary in his face that made him look older than he was. “I’m not going to stand out here in the dark and argue with you, Eugenie. All I can ask is that if you can’t control yourself for my sake, then think of your mother. Otherwise, do what you want.”

  “Roland…”

  But he was already walking away into the night, and as I watched the man I’d always regarded as my father leave, I uneasily wondered whose daughter I truly was.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tim surfaced the next morning after some liaison or another, and I decided not to mention that our wards had been broken. He handled my array of paranormal activities fairly good-naturedly, but that was largely because they usually didn’t follow me home. So, I called the witch who’d originally laid the wards and asked her to come back and discreetly redo them, scheduling a time when I knew Tim would be out.

  After that it was off to the first shamanic job I’d had in a while, fighting a nixie who’d taken up residence in some poor family’s swimming pool. The ease with which I dispatched her was a bit alarming. Earlier in the year, Dorian and I had fought off a group of them that Jasmine had sent. Dorian had done the fighting, and at the time, they’d seemed overwhelming. Now, with my magic becoming more and more instinctual, fighting a water creature like this was ridiculously simple. Admittedly, I still banished her the old-fashioned way, not wanting to rely on magic more than I had to. I didn’t agree with Roland about its use—though my fight with him still stung—but it was exhilarating recalling how easily I’d fought the water elemental. If I could only summon water creatures like Jasmine could, my life would be easier still.

  And speaking of Jasmine, I summoned Volusian away from her later that evening. I was going to the Thorn Land shortly and felt confident that she wouldn’t get knocked up before then. Well, I hoped so, at least.

  Volusian appeared in the darkest corner of my bedroom, scaring off one of the cats that had been sleeping on my bed. “My mistress calls,” he said in his monotone.

  “I have a job for you.”

  “Of course.”

  “I need you to go to Yellow River and check out the house of a shaman there. Do not let him see you—or sense you, if you can help it.” My vibe from Art was that while he could fight Otherworldly creatures, he didn’t possess the same sensitivity I did.

  “And what would my mistress like me to do once I am there?”

  “Look around. Tell me if there’s anything suspicious going on—particularly in regard to any gentry girls. Make sense?”

  Volusian’s look was scathing. “Certainly it makes sense. Do not confuse me with the other underlings who serve you.”

  Once he had the address, he disappeared in that way of his, and I sighed. It might be worth enslaving another minion destined for the Underworld. It was easy enough for me, particularly if I got one who wasn’t too strong. I didn’t have a huge amount of respect for Volusian, but he’d been right about one thing. He was so powerful that his skills were better suited to protection and battle. A lesser spirit would suffice for all these errands I seemed to be sending him on lately.

  That was a thought for another day. For now, it was back to the Thorn Land. I planned on spending the night there since I wanted to get an early start on our demon hunting. Kiyo had said he’d come at sunrise, and I didn’t want to miss a moment of being with him.

  When I arrived at my castle, I was a bit surprised to see a party going on. Well, not a true party, but Shaya, Rurik, and a few of the other head servants were hanging out in one of the parlors, drinking wine and laughing. Girard was still around and had joined them. Even Ysabel was there, looking happy for a change. None of them seemed to have expected me that night and most leapt up like naughty children. Shaya started to stammer something like an apology, but I silenced her with a gesture.

  “No, no. Keep having fun.” I somehow always thought of them as utilitarian fixtures around here, but of course, they were only human—well, figuratively speaking—and entitled to their downtime.

  After a few uneasy moments, they settled back down, and Rurik offered me a glass of wine. I shook my head. “You know,” he said, “that your minion disappeared.”

  “Yeah, I know. I sent him on a task.”

  “I doubled the guards on her when I heard.”

  “Good. Let’s hope she’s managed to keep her clothes on in this short of time.”

  “You should have killed her,” Ysabel noted darkly.

  I ignored that and turned away, leaving them to their party. “I’m going
to check on her myself.”

  The bedroom Shaya had assigned Jasmine was one floor up and very cleverly chosen—not that I’d expect any less from Shaya. It was spacious and furnished but not so large that the guards within couldn’t see her most of the time—the bathroom excluded. The room’s one window was only a tiny slit, too small for anyone to get out of. Four guards stood on duty outside and four within. To my relief, Jasmine simply lay on her bed, reading one of the books I’d sent. Girard’s new cuffs had a longer, thinner chain that gave her much more range of motion but was packed with iron. Those blue-gray eyes looked up at my approach, but the rest of her didn’t move.

  “Oh. You.”

  I sat down on a narrow wicker bench and sent the guards outside with a curt nod. “I came to check on you.”

  “Right. Because you care so much.”

  “I do. Well, kind of.”

  “The only things you care about are having the heir yourself and forcing me to get rid of your monsters.”

  “Demons,” I corrected. “And believe me, the last thing I want is to have the heir.”

  “I heard the guards talking. They said you’ve been hanging out with Dorian a lot. Why else would you do that? No one else would rather have our father’s grandson. Well, except Aeson.” A grimace fell over her face at the mention of her old lover.

  “Dorian’s just my friend, something you’ll understand when you’re older.” Oh, Eugenie, you are such a hypocrite. “And you’re better off without Aeson.”

  Her eyes returned to her book. “I loved Aeson. You have no idea what love is.”

  “Oh, I do. I know that it’s the best high and the worst hurt all at the same time—not to mention confusing as hell.”

  Jasmine looked back at me, still sullen but with a new sort of consideration. “What do you want? Are you just here to babysit me until that fucking imp comes back? God, I hate him.”

  I started to tell her to watch her language and then decided there was no point. “I came to tell you we’re going to take out those demons tomorrow.”

  “At gunpoint.”

  “I don’t have a choice. They’re terrorizing people. How can you not understand how serious that is?”

  She shrugged with her typical apathy and pushed some of that long blond hair out of her face. “Your problem. Not mine.” Self-centered brat. She frowned for a moment, though. “Are they still taking girls?” She sounded almost concerned. Almost.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know if this group’s connected or not. I actually think there are humans involved.”

  The book slipped to her lap, forgotten. “Why would they do that? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I’ll tell you when you’re older,” I said dryly, which was silly considering all that she’d been through. “And you’re certain…you’re certain the group chasing you wasn’t human?”

  “Yes, for like the hundredth time. They were shining ones.”

  “You said they were soldiers….” A startling thought came to me. “Leather armor? Red shirts?”

  “That’s how soldiers dress, isn’t it? Well, maybe not the red shirt. Depends on who they work for, I guess. I don’t remember the color.”

  “Does it happen a lot?” I asked, recalling past thoughts about the similarities between the two of us. “Are guys coming after you a lot to…you know…”

  “Get me pregnant? Yeah, sometimes.” There was a sad look in her eyes, a very vulnerable one.

  “But…you don’t always give in…”

  “Jesus Christ, Eugenie. I won’t sleep with anyone. What kind of a slut do you think I am?”

  A considerable one, actually. But I didn’t say so, and I wondered if she’d ever been raped. “Sorry. You just seem so anxious to have that baby.”

  “Yeah, well, not with just anyone. And certainly not through rape.” She held her head up, a fierce look in her eyes. “No one does that to Storm King’s daughter. It’s an insult to our father’s awesomeness.” Try as she might to deny her heritage, only the human part of her could have pulled up “awesomeness” to refer to a tyrannical fairy warlord.

  “You know I don’t quite share the same regard for him that you do.”

  “I know,” she said. “Which is why you have such bad taste in men. You wouldn’t catch me sleeping with a kitsune. I need someone worthy…like Aeson.”

  I started to argue again that Aeson had been a despotic asshole but knew logic and love rarely worked together—particularly if my own life was any indication. I was saved from further commentary when a coldness settled into the room and Volusian appeared.

  “Fuck,” said Jasmine. Man, did she have a mouth on her.

  I stood up, crossing my arms and trying to look imposing. It was a common attitude I kept around Volusian so there would be no question of my control. “Did you go to Art’s house?”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  “And? Did you find anything?”

  “No, mistress. I could not enter.”

  “What do you mean? Did he invite you out back for beer too?”

  Volusian didn’t blink. “The house was warded.”

  “The house was warded,” I repeatedly flatly. “And you couldn’t cross it?”

  “They’d have to be some serious wards if he couldn’t,” said Jasmine.

  “Thanks, Little Miss Stating the Obvious.” I racked my brain, thinking of the local witch network. I didn’t know them well enough, not like I knew the shamans. “Where the hell would he find someone that strong?”

  “The wards were not the usual type found in the human world. They were laced with magic from this world as well,” continued Volusian.

  “What? How would Art get gentry help to lay wards—especially if he’s abducting them?”

  “Maybe he put a gun to their head,” said Jasmine, in a fair imitation of my own dry tone. Another family trait, perhaps.

  “I’ve got to get into that house,” I muttered. “I guess that’s gotta wait like everything else, though. Well, thanks for trying, Volusian.”

  “I neither require nor desire your gratitude, mistress. I want nothing in these worlds save your death.”

  Jasmine laughed.

  “Well, I’m sure you guys’ll have a great time together.” I opened the door and beckoned the guards back in. With Volusian back, only two needed to be inside. “I’ll see you both in the morning for demon hunting.”

  After that, I considered joining the others for their impromptu party but decided that would be the same as a boss crashing her employees’ happy hour. Instead, I made my way to my own room but was intercepted by Girard.

  “Your majesty.” He swept me a bow in that flourish-filled way of his, making his cloak flare out dramatically. “I’ve made considerable progress on the project you requested.”

  “Already?” I knew he had magic for this kind of thing, but still.

  He smiled. “The queen asks, and I obey.”

  From within the folds of his cloak, he produced a rolled-up piece of parchment, which he opened up for me. On it was a detailed diagram of a sword, and scrawled all around it were assorted technical notes about weight and composition. Those meant little to me. Mostly I noticed the sword’s beauty, particularly its hilt.

  “This is lovely,” I said.

  “I should hope so. Fit for a king.”

  In spite of myself, I smiled back. Dorian had left me in a miasma of emotions, but I’d been trying hard not to let that interfere with the honest favors he’d done me. And when he’d mentioned needing a new sword, I’d gotten the idea yesterday to have Girard make one. By all accounts, there were few more skilled, and his ability to touch iron made him particularly gifted.

  Girard traced the line of the sword’s blade and tapped the end. “I can work iron into the tip here, and it shouldn’t harm the Oak King so long as he’s holding the hilt. It also shouldn’t affect his ability to control the rest of the blade.” As a master of the earth and its contents, Dorian could infuse coppe
r and sometimes bronze blades with magical heat.

  “But the tip will be deadly to his enemies,” I said. The idea to work iron into it had been mine.

  “Considerably. I can begin production right away, but I’ll need to get an understanding of his current sword’s balance before I can finalize this one.”

  “He’ll be here tomorrow. You can talk to him then.” Dorian too had offered to help oust my demons.

  “Excellent. And Mistress Shaya tells me you have the materials here that I could use, if I have your permission to do so. Otherwise, I can return to my workshop in the Rowan Land.”

  I shook my head. “No, no. Use whatever you need here.”

  His lips twitched in a wry smile. “That’s probably just as well. Were I to return home…well, I suspect my lord prince would spend days asking me about you.”

  I sighed. “Is he still upset about that?”

  “He was, forgive me, quite heartbroken over your rejection of the gift and of him.”

  “I didn’t want that. I liked him—still do. I just wanted us to be friends.”

  “In my experience, your majesty, men and women often have difficulty with that. It’s not impossible—but not always easy.”

  I thought about Dorian. “That’s for damned sure. Well, thank you for this, and let me know if there’s anything I can do to help with it. But seriously—don’t go work on it now. Go back to that party. Drink up. Flirt with Shaya. She could use a good guy.”

  Girard erupted into laughter. It was a rich, honey-filled sound. “I treasure my neck too much to risk the captain of your guards wringing it.”