Clash of the Otherworlds: Book 1, After the Fall (19 page)

"I'm not sure if I consider him worse than Torrie, necessarily, but that's the basic idea, yeah."

His hands froze out in front of him.  "And you made a deal with the demon?  You actually
did
that?"

"Well, kind of."  I was feeling nervous all over again.  "He offered me help in exchange for a promise."

Tim dropped to his knees, his hands held out in prayer now, looking up at the ceiling.  "I tried, Great Spirit.  I tried.  But she keeps putting her head in her butt, and there's nothing I can do to stop her, apparently.  I don't know what to do!  Please give me your guidance!"

I leaned over and pushed him onto his side.

He fell stiffly, not moving his hands or changing his pleading expression.

"Shut up.  It's not that bad."

He laid there, his hands still clasped together, but now he was looking at me.  "What did you promise?  Please tell me it wasn't your first-born."

I frowned, trying to remember exactly what I'd said.

"What?  Tell me!" he demanded, his hands coming unclasped and dropping to the bed next to him as he stared at me, the anticipation of hearing really bad news written all over his face.

"I will.  I just want to remember it right.  I think I said that I'd send him back to where he belongs one day when he asks me to."

"Where he belongs?  Did you specifically say
belongs
and not the
Underworld?"

"Maybe," I said meekly, now realizing I probably should have used a better, more specific word.

Tim stood and straightened his hair and clothes out, tugging the bottom of his tunic down to pull out the wrinkles.  "All I have to say is, you've got a lot of nerve calling Baby Bee a spaz after that stunt."

"I never called him a spaz."

"Well, you thought it."

"That's probably true," I admitted.  "But what the hell else was I supposed to do?  I'm fighting Maléna someday, and I need to know what to do to take her down."

"First, you are fighting Maléna
tomorrow
, in fact; that's one of the bits of good news I had planned to share with you before you blew me out of the water with your doomsday prophecy.  And second, I hope the information he gave you is like, sea-scroll-worthy, because you traded it for something I have a very sick feeling you're going to regret."

"He told me that to take her out I had to take her Wind from her.  Without it, I guess she's nothing."

"Did he perchance tell you how to do this?"

"No.  He said Ben would teach me."

Tim started laughing hysterically, maniacally even, bending over and holding his stomach as he stumbled around the top of bed.

"Shut up," I said, frowning at him.  I felt monumentally stupid, and he was making it worse with every second.

"I can't ... I can't ..."  He was holding one arm out to the side, in a stop-gesture.

"Laugh all you want, twerp.  I'm going to talk to Ben about it."

"Wait!  No!" he yelled, trying to fly after me.  But his laughter made it impossible for him to go straight.  He ran into one of the trees coming out of the ceiling and had to grab onto a leaf to keep from falling.  He dangled in front of me, up above my head a little.  "Don't leave.  I have too much to tell you.  And the Ben thing ... we need to talk before you go."

I crossed my arms over my chest.  "So talk.  You have five seconds.  Five ... four ... three ..."

He let go of the leaf and hovered in front of my face, shaking a finger at me.  "No fair using the parental counting technique on me, Jayne.  You're not the parent."

"Neither are you, but you used it."

"Some might argue with you on that, but let's move on.  Fact is, right now you might want to avoid Ben.  Seems he came out of his little trip into your dream in a bit of a mood.  Now I know why.  And second, we need to talk about the Maléna thing and your training.  And last, we need to talk about what Tony has found.  And his little, er, issue."

I dropped my arms to my sides.  "Wow.  That's a lot of shit to discuss when I'm this hungry."

"Just wait a second, and I'll be right back."  He had flown towards the door, but came back to my face again.  "Promise you won't leave or make a deal with a demon or go to sleep or put anyone in a coma until I return."

I smiled.  "You've got five minutes."

"Wench!" he yelled, flying out of the room.

"Make that
two
minutes!" I shouted out after him.

I walked over and stood in front of the mirror to finish with my hair.  I was using the damp towel to fluff it out a little, hoping I could get it somewhat dry before putting it in a ponytail when I heard a giggling from the wall near the bathroom door.  

I sighed.  "Come on out, Willy.  Your dad's gone."

The little bug flew over to join me at the mirror, bumping into it before falling down to the dresser where he landed on his butt.  "Where'd Papa go?" he said, smiling brightly up at me.

"He went to get me some food, I think."

"Your nose is pretty inside."

"Thanks.  I think.  But you really shouldn't go in there."

"Why?"

"Because it's my
nose
.  And it's ... dirty."

"Why?"

"Because all noses are dirty."

"Why?

"Because we breathe shit in all day with them, I don't know."

"Why?"

I leaned down until I was just an inch or two away from him.  "Because if we don't, we will die and turn all stiff and then our bodies will explode and our guts will come out everywhere and stink like dead, rotten animals."

He looked up at me sweetly and said, "But why?"

"Jayne!" gasped Abby from behind me.  "What are you saying to my child?!" She buzzed around my face and swept Willy up into her arms.  "Come on, Lovebug, Momma needs to get you to the garden."  She frowned at me harshly as she zoomed past with Willy struggling in her arms.

"Don't wanna go!  Wanna stay here and talk about the guts!  Wanna talk about the
guts!
  Bad, mommy! 
Bad!"

It was the last I heard as they left the room.  Tim passed her in the doorway, not stopping for an explanation, but continuing his journey over to me flying backwards.

"What was that all about?"

"Uhhh ... nothin'."

Tim faced me.  "Corrupting the child again, are we?"

"I guess."

"Nicely done," said Tim, grinning.  "Abby's too uptight.  Poor kid needs a little distraction now and again."

I grinned back, glad I wasn't in trouble with him too.  "I'm not sure your wife agrees with you."

"Meh. 
She'll come around.  And if she doesn't, well, I'll send her to a pixie colony."

"Tim!" I yelled, barking out a laugh.  "How can you say that?  I hope you're not serious."

"Of course I'm not serious, gimme a break.  I could sure
try
to do that, but believe me ... Abby's stubborn.  She'd refuse to go."

"Well, I hope so.  This isn't the sixteenth century, you know."

"Oh, that it were ..." he said, getting a faraway look in his eyes.

I poked him to bring him back to the present.  "Did you get me some breakfast?  I'm dying here."

"Yeah.  Netter will be here soon.  In the meantime, I've got to fill you in on the latest and greatest.  Which do you want first?  Chase?  Tony?  Ben? Pick your bad news."

"All of it's bad?" I asked, feeling sorry for myself again, wondering when it was going to be a list of good news to choose from.

"Yep.  Pretty much."

"Tony, then.  If he's in trouble, I need to help him first."

"Okay.  Well.  Tony is a Gray-walker, right?  So he's walking in the Gray while you were playing sleeping baby-pixie-in-the-nostril girl, and he stumbles across this group of Underworld creatures wandering around in there.  And you know Tony, not being the most muscular of fae, he just ... you know ... did the best he could with what he had."

I slammed the brush down on the dresser.  "What?!  What happened?!"  I was ready to grab Tim and squeeze the juice out of him.

He must have seen the pixie-squeezing gleam in my eye because he flew out of my reach.  "He's okay, he's not dead.  But he's in recovery, and he wants to talk to you."

I ran over to my side table and grabbed Blackie, strapping it onto my thigh as I walked to the door, stopping only long enough to tie the bottom strings around my leg.

"Wait!  I'm not done!" yelled Tim.

"Just talk while we run."

"But you haven't eaten!" he shouted, following me out into the sitting area.

Netter came into the room through the main door, wheeling a cart with some dishes on it.

"Hey, Netter.  What's up?" I said, running over to the cart and grabbing food off the plates , shoving it into my mouth.

The brownie stared at me in open-mouthed fascination.

"Forry.  I gotta go mow.  My fweind's fick."  I took two rolls and pushed them into my pant pockets and rolled up two slices of meat to eat on the way.  I swallowed so I could say goodbye.  "I'll get you some tokens later, okay?  Tony's in the hospital."

"Is there anything else I can do?" he asked, waving his hand over the mess I'd just made.  I knew that meant soon it would be all cleaned up with his brownie magic.

"Maybe later.  Sorry ... gotta go!"  I grabbed the door and yanked it open.  Becky was standing out in the hall with her hand up like she was about to knock.  Finn was standing behind her.

I grabbed her tunic and pulled her along.  "Come on.  I'm going to see Tony."

"That's what I came to tell you.   He's been moved.  To his room."

I stopped.  "Oh, shit.  I have no idea where his room is."

"Follow us," she said brightly, going in the opposite direction as I had been.

I took her good mood as a positive sign, even though she would probably be smiling the same way if Tony'd been turned into a frog.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

"IS TONY BETTER?" I ASKED as we strode down the hall.

"Yes.  Much," she said, a little too brightly for my comfort.

"What the hell happened?"

"Didn't Tim tell you?" Finn asked.  "I'd-a-thought that'd be the first thing you heard when you finally woke up."

"He did.  He tried, actually, but I had news too, so it all got kind of messed up."

"What's your news?" asked Becky.

"I'll tell you later."  I wasn't anxious about sharing another story of monumental screw-up.  And if Tim's reaction was any judge, that's what it was.  I needed to find out about Tony first, anyway.  Everything else could wait.

We stopped at a door that appeared on the wall, and Becky pushed it open, tapping on the wood as she went.  I pushed past her to get to Tony's bed.

He was covered with a quilt, only his pale face showing.  His eyes were closed and for a moment, I thought he was dead.

"Tony!" I screamed, running over to his bedside, dropping on my knees to the stone floor, my chest instantly starting to ache.

His eyes opened slowly and looked at me.  "Hey, Jayne," he said in slightly slurred speech.  "Where'd you come from?"

"What the hell happened to you?" I asked in a more normal tone of voice, a little less concerned now that he was going to die in the next two minutes.  But he didn't look good at all.

"I got jumped in the Gray, I guess.  I don't remember all of it."

I looked around at my friends.  "Who in the hell is responsible for this?  Who was supposed to have his back?"  I looked at Tony again.  "Was it Gregale?  Was he supposed to be there?"

Tony shook his head slightly.  "No.  I was alone.  No one was supposed to be there."

"My ass," I said, standing.  "Someone go get Gregale for me, please.  I have a few things to say to him."

"Are you sure you want to do that, Jayne?" asked Becky, giving me a nervous smile.

"Yes, Becky.  I am.  Now either you pop over there and get him, or I'll do it my way.  You choose."

She shook her head quickly.  "No, I'll go.  We don't need you sending the werewolves into a frenzy again."  She gave me a scolding look before disappearing into thin air.

"Man, I wish I could do that," said Finn, staring at the space where she'd been standing.

"You can use telepathy with the other green elves.  She can't do that." I reminded him.

"Yeah, but still ... nothin's cooler than zippin' 'n zappin' all over the place like them water sprites can do.  Plus they get to breathe underwater."

"Awesome.  Breathing in fish crap.  Sounds nice.  You're right," said Tim.  "We should all be jealous."

I turned my attention back to Tony, while translating Tim's reaction to the envious green elf.  "Tim says they breathe in fish crap, so he's totally jealous too."

Tim blessed me with a pixie fart, impressing me again with his ability to produce them at will.

"Nice," I said, shaking my head.

"Do they do that?  For serious?" asked Finn, now looking less excited about the idea of being a water sprite.

"Would you focus, Finn?  You're too brave and too much of a good shot to be a wienie water sprite anyway."

He pursed his lips and nodded.  "You got that right.  Okay.  Let's get down to what's happenin' here.  Looks like ol' Tony got his butt whooped in the Gray.  Is that right, Mister Wrathe?"

Tony nodded his head.  "Pretty much."

"Who did it?" I asked, ready to make a plan for their imminent demise.

"I don't know who they were.  Just some guys.  I guess they were demons, but they looked like regular fae."  He closed his eyes, and for a second, and I thought he'd fallen asleep.

"Tony?" I pulled the covers back and pulled one of his arms out so I could hold his hand.  It was like ice.  "Holy shit, why are you friggin cold?"

"Aftereffects of the Gray.  I stayed in too long," he whispered.

I pulled the covers back the rest of the way so I could get in next to him.  "Come on, Finn.  You get in on the other side.  We need to warm him up."

He looked at us with extreme distaste.  "Oh,
hell
no, I ain't doin' no cuddlin' with that boy.  Huh-uh, no, sir.  I ain't gay."