“To answer your questions: the Ante-Fae do not have a cohesive legal or social system like the Light and Dark do. However, if we kill Straff, even if his father doesn’t care, other Ante-Fae will hear about it and will be far less likely to help us in the future. Some of them may even come after us, feeling we are a threat to them. It’s much harder when you’re dealing with rogue elements than when you’re dealing with an organized agency. That’s one thing I’ve learned over the years.”
“So how do we take him into custody?”
“We have to subdue him. Be cautious. I have the feeling he’s inherited some of his father’s abilities. Those puncture wounds on all of the bodies? Did you notice Blackthorn’s fingernails? They look like the spikes on a blackthorn tree. My guess is that Straff has the same trait. I’m speculating here, but I have a feeling that he can transfer energy to himself through those thorns, while injecting poison into his victims.”
That set me to shivering. “All right then, make a note of that: Watch Straff’s fingernails. Anything else that you think you might have?”
Herne shrugged. “Nope. While we have tabs on a number of the ancient Ante-Fae, we don’t have a lot of information on all of their children. And I believe that Straff is a relative newborn. If his mother had a wasting disease that required her to feed off of others, then Straff has probably had this his whole life. His father seemed clear that Straff was a youngster and rebellious.”
Herne stopped as he nodded up ahead. “There, to the left.”
I looked at where he was nodding. Across the road, and a turnout away from the shore, there was an old building. A large sign read Whitaker’s Old-Time Boat Rides. The building was covered in boards, but I could see lights flickering from within, and sure enough, Astrana’s Jeep was parked right beside it. I wondered that nobody had ever reported squatters to Astrana. But what if they had? She knew who was there. She would probably have reassured any tattletales that nothing was wrong, and to go on their way.
Herne parked along the shoulder of the road. Up ahead, I spied Yutani’s car. I texted Viktor that we were there. He slipped out of the driver’s seat, shutting the door and walking back to where we were parked.
“I see you finally got here. So you think that Straff is in there?” He leaned down, resting his elbows on the driver’s side window.
Herne nodded. “Did she make any stops along the way?”
“No. Everything was quiet at the sheriff’s office until she came racing out of there, and I do mean racing. She beat a path straight to her Jeep and almost took out another car in her haste to get out of that parking lot. It’s a good thing I got there when I did or I would have missed her. By the way, the tracker on her Jeep works like a charm.” Viktor glanced up the road at the boarded-up building. “I wonder what tipped her off?”
“Could Rayne have called her? Why would he have a reason to?” The thought that we had been double-crossed played through my mind.
“He wouldn’t have done so in order to help her. I wonder…she owes the Vampire Nation Worldwide Bank a large debt. What if he mentioned to someone on the bank’s board that she had become a security risk? Could they have called her loan so quickly?” Herne furrowed his brow.
“I doubt if they would have acted quite so quickly. It’s in the Vampire Nation’s best interests for us to catch Straff and expose him for what he is. I’m pretty sure that, even though she still owes them three and a half million dollars, that’s a drop in the bucket to the likes of their kind.” I shook my head. “No, something else set her off. I’d like to know what, but we can leave that for later. We’d better get in there if we want to stand a chance in hell of catching Straff before he vanishes.”
We slipped out of the car. Herne paused to arm himself with a handheld crossbow as well as his sword. Weapons ready, we skirted the side of the road, trying to keep in the shadows of the trees. Ahead the building loomed, backed up against an embankment. Across the road, there was a faded sign that I imagined had, at one time, pointed the way down to the cove for the patrons seeking an “old-time boat ride.” Briefly, a thought flickered through my head as to exactly how an old-time boat ride differed from a modern one, but I shook it away. This wasn’t the time to let myself get distracted. I wished we had Yutani with us—the coyote shifter was handy in altercations and he had a bit of magic tucked away that proved itself useful.
As we neared the building, I squinted. In the light of the waning crescent overhead, I could tell only that the siding was weathered and peeling, and the boards that had been tacked over the windows and doors were nailed haphazardly, as though someone had just wanted to get the job done and it didn’t matter to them how it looked. From the front, it was hard to see if there was any other entrance.
Herne motioned for us to follow him and we skirted around the back. There, we found the answer. There had to be a basement—because we saw a stairwell leading down to what I assumed was a door. There was also an exit on the ground level, but that too was shuttered by long planks and nails. Herne edged toward the stairs. He held out a small flashlight, then covered it with a handkerchief before turning it on. The light was muted. If anybody was watching us, they would have noticed, but he trained it on the ground so it didn’t flicker across any of the openings between the planks.
Slowly, we descended the steps, Herne first. I went second, and Viktor brought up the rear. The staircase was made of concrete, the steps broken and crumbling in places. Grass was growing through the cracks, and moss, and the railing was iron. I found that out the hard way. I reached out to steady myself and as I touched the railing, a jolt of bone-deep pain raced through me and my stomach lurched. I reeled back, yanking my hand away.
“Fuck,” I blurted out before I could stop myself as Viktor steadied me.
Herne swung around, aiming the light at my hands. My left hand now matched my left wrist in terms of damage—my palm had blistered up and now I guessed it had turned bright red. I averted my eyes. I wasn’t squeamish, but if I couldn’t see how bad it looked, then I might be able to ignore the pain.
Viktor fumbled in his pocket and brought out his own handkerchief, which he tied around my palm. I hoped to hell he hadn’t blown his nose on it. Then, clasping Herne’s shoulder for balance, I nodded that I was ready and once again, we headed down the steps.
As we approached the bottom, the flashlight showed the faint outline of a door. No boards, so this was probably where Straff was gaining entrance. We paused long enough to draw our weapons before Herne tried the door and the knob turned. He eased the door open, then peeked inside. A second later, he motioned for Viktor and me to follow him in.
The room was dimly lit by what appeared to be battery-operated candles. Of course, the electricity would be turned off, I thought. The shop had been closed for some time.
It appeared to be a storeroom, with old boxes and crates sitting around, and a desk and chair against one wall. Then we saw a bed against another wall, and a bottle of wine on the desk, along with a glass. A piece of rope hung over a nail on the wall, and Herne grabbed it. Here and there, tendrils of ivy and brambles had encroached from the basement windows, and they were busy growing into a tangle to cover the walls.
Herne nodded to the opposite side of the room. Another staircase led up, into the building proper, and we could hear voices echoing down. I recognized Astrana’s voice from when she had stopped Herne and me, while the other voice was male. They appeared to be arguing, judging by the tone and pitch of their words.
“You have to get out of here. It isn’t safe for you, and because of you, my position has become tenuous. That damned godlet is determined to put a stop to your feeding.” Astrana sounded frantic. “I can’t hide you any longer.”
“You aren’t going to betray me.” The voice was smooth like silk, but threatening in a way that I couldn’t pinpoint. But I could hear the deliberation behind it, and it jarred my nerves.
“I don’t have any intention of it, b
ut you can’t expect to continue on, business as usual, now that they know what’s happening.” Astrana paused. “If that damned Rhiannon hadn’t set them on track, everything would be fine. But they’re onto you, and I don’t want to have to turn you over to them just to save my own skin.”
There was a tense pause, and it occurred to me that she could have just signed her death warrant. Astrana might be smart, but her panic had clouded her judgment.
Herne readied his crossbow and began to creep up the stairs, motioning for us to follow. Grateful that, although I was left handed, I could use my blade with my right, I checked the railing before touching it this time. It was wood. I used my fingers to steady myself—gripping anything with my blistered hand would hurt like a son of a bitch—and followed him. Viktor brought up the rear, amazing me once again by how quiet such a large man could be.
As we neared the top, the growing illumination made it easier to see. The door to the basement was open, and whatever lights Straff was using were bright enough to show us up the minute we hit the top of the stairs. We’d be visible in seconds. Herne seemed to realize this as well. He paused, then gave us a nod, and ran up the last three stairs, charging out into the main room. I didn’t think, just followed suit. Viktor was hot on my heels.
We burst into the room and froze. Brambles and ivy twined through the room like some monstrous plant creature, covering walls and part of the floor. In the center of the room was a long narrow table covered with dried blood, and I had the sudden feeling of being inside a thorny bird’s nest. A serial-killer bird’s nest.
As Herne took aim at Straff, Astrana turned to stare at us. Sitting on the counter beside her, with an expression that bordered on murderous, was a tall man who reminded me of a young version of Blackthorn. Straff had the same markings as his father on his body. He was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and what looked like an expensive sports coat, and his hair tumbled down his shoulders in a cloud of raven black.
When he saw us, the markings vanished and he suddenly looked nothing more than a tall, elegant human with fingernails that looked like spikes. I blinked, but then shook off the surprise.
Before we could approach him, he grabbed Astrana, pulling her to him with his arm around her waist. With his other hand, he toyed with her throat, stroking the flesh with those long, sharp thorns.
“One step closer and she dies.” Straff’s eyes glittered, as though he were almost enjoying the scene. “Shoot me, and you shoot her.”
Still holding his bow aimed at Straff, Herne held up his other hand. Viktor and I skidded to a halt. We stood there, in a standoff.
“Let her go. Come with us and we won’t hurt you. In the name of Cernunnos, Lord of the Hunt, I’m here to apprehend you, Straff, son of Blackthorn.”
“Call me the ‘Prince of Thorns,’ ” Straff said, scraping Astrana’s throat with one of his nails.
She gasped. “What are you doing? Let me go. I’m on your side.” She sounded almost offended and I almost snorted.
“Do you really believe you mean anything to me, Astrana? You’re a means to an end, my dear,” Straff said. “And your usefulness is obviously over and done with.” He glanced up at Herne. “Why should I come with you? Your father holds no covenant with the Ante-Fae. When my father hears about this—”
“Your father gave us permission to kill you, if need be.” Herne stiffened. “And quite frankly, given the nature of her crimes, if you want to use Astrana as a pincushion, be my guest. I’m not going to stop you, but your threats won’t buy you an escape.”
Astrana let out a hiss and, without warning, jabbed Straff in the stomach. She must have put muscle into it, because he abruptly let go of her, and she darted out of reach. She pulled out a gun, which she trained on me.
“It appears we’re at an impasse,” she said. “You can shoot Straff, but you come at me and the tralaeth eats it.”
I froze, staring at the handgun. Bullets might not do a lot to Herne, but they could damage me, and probably Viktor as well.
Herne gave her a slow nod. “Make no sudden decisions, Astrana. I’m not after you.” His voice was gentle, but I noticed that he was eyeing the walls. Then, I saw one of the brambles behind her rising up. I quickly looked away, not wanting to give her any hint of what Herne was planning—at least, I thought it was Herne, because it could have been Straff as well.
Straff’s expression flickered from murderous to amused, but he just leaned against the counter, waiting.
“Now,” Herne said with a slow breath, and the bramble whipped around Astrana. I leapt to the side as she squeezed the trigger. The bullet sailed past where I had been standing, but she dropped the gun as the thorn-covered vine dug into her skin, wrapping her tight. She began to swear in what I assumed was a dialect of Light Fae.
Straff cleared his throat. “Now that that little matter is taken care of, you do realize that we are evenly matched. Your arrow might hit me, but you must be aware that I can command these vines as well as you. The fight would be a standoff.”
Herne shook his head, still holding his aim. “I can’t let you go.”
“Then you’ll have to kill me. Because I’m not turning myself over to you. I enjoy my freedom far too much.” Straff jumped up on the counter as a large cane from the thicket of brambles lashed out, aiming for me. I saw it coming, and leaped to the side again, swearing as I rolled hard on my blade, cutting my leg a little in the process.
Viktor lunged forward, aiming for Straff. He swung his sword toward Straff’s leg, aiming to disable him, but Straff was lithe and quick, and he leaped atop the counter, out of the way. Herne held up one arm and his voice thundered as he shouted, “Rise!”
The ivy vines shot forward, aiming toward Straff, and as they wrapped around his left arm and leg, they took on a dark green glow, looking for all the world like rope instead of vegetation. They stiffened, holding him tight. He barked something at them, but they didn’t budge. I suddenly realized that, while Straff could control the thorns, he couldn’t control plants that were thornless.
Astrana struggled, screaming epitaphs at…well…everybody.
Straff let out a bellow, then another command and the entire nest of brambles began to move and twine around us, edging in.
“Silence him!” Herne held out a hand, aiming for the writhing mass of canes that twisted and writhed. “He can still control the brambles and I can hold him off, but he’s strong.”
“How about you just shoot him?” Viktor lunged toward the counter where Straff was standing captive, but one of the nearby brambles shot out and wrapped around his leg, digging in. Viktor shouted, bringing his sword down as he hacked against the canes. The room was covered with them. They slithered like massive snakes to fill every surface of the empty floor.
I gauged the distance between Viktor and Straff. Viktor was close enough that, if I used him for leverage, I could leap the distance between the two.
“Hold still,” I shouted at Viktor. He glanced at me, puzzled, but froze. I made a running jump toward him, landing on his back. He seemed to understand what I was doing, because he let go of his blade, reaching up to steady me as I rose to stand on his shoulders.
Straff started to say something, but Herne shouted “Gag” and a large tendril of ivy wrapped around Straff’s mouth, thrusting itself down his throat.
As the Ante-Fae struggled, trying to tear the vines out of his mouth with his free hand, I sucked in a deep breath and leaped to the counter. Landing precariously atop the old cash register, I tried to balance.
Straff ripped at the ivy that Herne was trying to shove down his throat.
As I steadied myself, a flicker in the back of my mind took hold. I had learned a few odd spells here and there over the past few months of working with Morgana, and now, one stood out in my mind. I didn’t know if it would work, but I began to whisper the conjuration.
Rise, mist, I conjure thee.
Every drop from every tree,
> From every bramble, save ivy vine,
Collect and rise, mist of mine.
A mist began to rise from the floor as some of the canes lost their color. They were drying out, the moisture sucked out of them, as the mist collected it. The fog filtered over the brambles, leaving the ivy alone, pulling the moisture from the canes and leaving them dry and lifeless as I focused my will on it.
I was getting ready to bind up Straff when laughter echoed from the corner of the room.
The brambles holding Astrana had fallen to the side.
Shit. I hadn’t thought of that.
She was free and had pulled out a dagger, and now, she sent it flying through the air. I realized it was coming toward me too late. The blade bit deep into my leg and I stumbled, losing my concentration as I fell into a pile of brambles. The mist evaporated and they took life once more, trussing me up like a turkey, their jagged thorns coming dangerously close to my face.
Chapter 18
I LET OUT a scream as the canes whipped dangerously close to my face, and I shut my eyes although I knew that wouldn’t stop them from blinding me. As the thorns bit deep, I focused on how to get free. Struggling only made it worse, so I forced myself to stop moving. The canes held me fast, but they stopped digging into my skin.
I chanced opening my eyes. From where I was lying, I could see Herne. His eyes were glowing with a dangerously brilliant light—a yellowish green that mirrored the sparkle of peridot. The next moment, he let out a roar.
“Wrong move.” He raised his bow and pulled the trigger. The arrow sang straight and true, lodging deep in Astrana’s chest. She froze for a second, then toppled into the writhing canes. Then, turning to Straff, Herne called out, “Fire!”
A blaze started, burning along the ivy as it traveled toward Straff’s face. He screeched around the vines that were filling his mouth, and the canes holding me suddenly loosened. Viktor was freed as well and he lunged toward the counter.