Emerald City Dreamer (41 page)

"
What other choice did we have?" Sandy asked.

"
There were other options," Jina insisted, her voice becoming strangely quiet. She turned a little and stared at the smeared chalk. "Jett would have known what to do."

"
Your... Your girlfriend? Is she a shrink? A cop? Is she a monster therapist who could have helped him 'work through his trauma'?" She made mock quotes with her fingers.

Jina's stare flicked up like a knife and bore into Sandy's eyes. "She's an elf."

Gretel's jaw dropped.

Sandy grit her teeth, resolute. She tried to unhear what Jina had just said.

Jina's gaze returned to the floor. "I should have told you before this, but now that you know, will she be next? Do I need to protect her from you?"

"
No need to worry about that," Hollis said. He stood in the doorframe, dusting chalk from his hands. "Sandy is too afraid to hurt your girlfriend. Just like she's been too afraid to kill Pogswoth over the last couple weeks, when she had the chance."

Jina looked back and forth between them. "You... what?"

"
I..." The buzz of the hunt was wearing off, and Sandy caught herself craving a bottle. She pushed the desire down. She was stronger than that.

"
I tracked Pogswoth down more than a week ago," Hollis said. "She's known where he lives ever since."

Sandy tried to blank her expression, but some of the guilt must have seeped through. "We weren't prepared," she started to explain.

Jina just stood there with her accusing glare, and worse, tears were forming in her eyes, until at last, she squeezed her hands into fists. Then she snatched off her Ordo medallion and threw it on the floor. "I want not part of this bullshit. I'm leaving!"

Jina turned, and Sandy reached out a hand, as if she could stop her. "You're supposed to be my friend," Sandy said.

"
And you were supposed to be mine." Tears flowed freely from Jina's eyes, landing like raindrops in the chalk, until she disappeared up the stairs.

Sandy listened to the sound of Jina's feet in the room above, a closet door opening, then drawers slamming. Minutes later, she watched her friend storm out the front door. Sandy could have stopped her. She could have stopped her a dozen times. But she didn't.

Sandy stared at the medallion laying there in a curl of chain and felt the comforting burn of Lonach flowing down her throat. How did the bottle get into her hand?

Hollis still stood in the doorway.

"
Why did you... Why did you tell her?" Sandy asked.

"
She's weak," Hollis replied. "Someone needed to toughen her up. When she comes back, she'll be contrite, grateful to be here."

Yes. She would be back. After a few nights on a couch someplace, she'd be right back, and they'd go after Pogswoth then. Or Haun. Or Jett.

They could take on the whole faerie kingdom at this point.

Sandy took another swig in celebration.

If only she could celebrate with her best friend.

EIGHT HOURS AGO, SHE STOOD on the edge of a sword and fell off one side.

She chose not to tell Sandy about Jett, and it ended in the death of an innocent. If she had come clean, things might have gone a lot better.

Or a lot worse.

Jina kicked a pebble down the block, hard, and shifted the backpack in her hand.

Maybe she should have grabbed Sandy by the ears and shaken her, made her go to an AA meeting.

Maybe she should have tried harder to convince Sandy to go after Scarf.

Maybe, somehow, she should have convinced Sandy to give Ezra to Jett.

A ridiculous idea. It never would have happened.

Jina paused at the trunk of her car and fished for the keys in her pocket. Shit, she'd left them back at the house.

When she turned, she nearly bumped into Pogswoth.

"
Boo," he said.

Instinctively, Jina threw her backpack at his face and ran, back towards the house she swore she would leave.

She reached for her amulet and found it gone. It was on the floor, where she'd thrown it. Her sword was locked in the car, and she'd forgotten her knife when she rushed out of the house.

He appeared between her and the mansion in a blur, trapping her between the neighbor's hedge and a row of cars. She could not avoid seeing his true form. He must be showing it to her. Now Pogswoth had long ears, red eyes, impossibly beautiful hair, and boils and warts on his huge head.

He held up her backpack on a single finger. "Looking for this?"

Jina held her ground and tried to look confident, crossing her arms in front of her. He didn't have to know she was unprotected.

"
You can't touch me," she said.

He chuckled. "Look at that glamour prance freely about your shoulders. Seems like you've lost something else, too. Maybe... a bit of iron."

Shit. Without the amulet, he could cast anything he wanted on her. He could whisk her away and no one would ever see her again.

He took a step forward and she a step back.

She'd have to make her own magic. She rattled off the rooting spell, but her emotions were too frayed, her mind too scattered, her fear too great. This wasn't how she imagined facing him - ambushed and weaponless. She struggled to believe her spell, but he was laughing at her, distracting her, overcoming her confidence.

Please Sandy, run outside and apologize
, she thought. Her eyes stung.

The door remained shut, and Scarf kept walking forward, slowly closing the gap between them, like a wall between safety and freedom.

"
Sunday, Monday, Tuesday..." he sang, swinging her backpack.

The thought of the Hindu concept of karma forced its way into her mind - the idea that she deserved this end for allowing Ezra to come to harm. She blanked her mind, pushing that concept as far away as possible. She didn't need the glamour being influenced by anything that would lower her chances of escape.

She rubbed the piercing side of her nose and concentrated on what she knew about him. He was a korrigan. Korrigans like to steal babies, kidnap lovers, and sing about the days of the week.

"
Monday... Tuesday..."

And if you said the next day of the week, they'd either thank you, or curse you.

"
Sunday..."

And they were most susceptible to...

"
Monday..."

Boxwood.

Jina smelled the stench from the hedge right next to her. She hated the things, a common shrub with tiny round leaves, but smelly as hell. She loved them now.

She grasped a branch and ripped off a sprig. She quickly blessed it with as much belief as she could muster, then she thrust it in front of his face, making up a rhyme on the spot.

Evil faerie, go away,

Come again another day.

Shit, a bad word choice. It was the only rhyme she could think of on short notice.

Scarf stopped and frowned.

That's it Scarf, wear a frown,

And while you're at it, put that down.

She motioned towards her backpack with the sprig. He just laughed. For a moment, she thought it wasn't enough to keep him away, either, but as she backed up, he stayed put.

When she reached her car, she struggled to keep the boxwood aloft while searching for her spare key hidden under the driver's side door. The tiny magnetic box came away, covered in road grime. She slid it open and managed not to drop the key.

Scarf did not advance, but he kept that same creepy grin frozen in place.

Her hands shook as she unlocked the door. She locked it behind her and started the engine, pulling out of her parking place. Tension fled as she watched him get smaller in her rearview mirror. He just stood there holding her bag.

Jina had but one option, though it scared her.

She considered couch surfing at Brandon's, or calling up Trey; neither of those would work when she had nothing but a sword to protect her. Hollis had shown her how to use it, a little. But she hadn't practiced.

Normally after a "breakup", she'd go to Sandy's. That was obviously out. Thinking about it brought tears to her eyes.

She'd enabled Sandy to sink deeper and deeper into alcoholism and hate. By making it okay, Jina never made it not okay. She should have walked out long before it came to this. It was the same with her mother. The whole time, Jina thought she'd had no choice, no one else to help protect her from the fae, and no one to provide the leadership to protect others from them.

But she did have a choice-

Jina swerved, and narrowly missed hitting someone.

She looked back and Pogswoth waved at her from the middle of the street.

"
Fuck," she whispered. She hooked the twig of boxwood over the rearview mirror. It didn't keep him from appearing in the middle of the street again.

Jina's hands shook against the wheel as she locked on and accelerated. He disappeared into a puddle just before she hit him

A couple more blocks to the freeway, a couple more blocks. She risked a moment to turn behind her to grab the katana from the floor and set it on the passenger's seat.

Jett might be the unknown, but she would never have allowed Ezra to die. She would have taken care of him and shown him how to use his power to help, not harm. If Jina wanted someone to help her protect the innocent, Jett
had
to be a better ally.

She slammed the accelerator and took it up to seventy on the onramp. Scarf's face appeared in the rearview mirror. But he wasn't in the backseat. She stuck the boxwood on the dash, ripped the mirror off, and threw it out the window, rolling it back up quickly.

When he appeared in the side mirror, she ignored him. She started rehearsing what she would say to Jett.

THE CHAINS BURNED. Ezra bore it as well as he could. He'd borne cold winters, long hunger, loneliness, rejection... surely he could bear this... Just until they got the demon out of him. If it didn't work, he'd just be back on the street again, looking for another purpose.

And if he could trust these crazy people, surely he could trust Lady Jett.

He'd seen his bracelet hanging from the man's belt. He hoped they would give it back to him when this was over. When the demon was gone, would he still like it? How much of him would be the same, and how much would change? He hoped the demon would take away all the bad parts, and leave the good. Which meant he'd still love his bracelet. And then he'd be normal again, like everyone else.

The women started chanting. He wondered who they were. Not nuns. And not ministers; only men could be ministers, he thought. They were more like witches, especially now with the incense and chants and the big design on the floor.

Ezra felt something slither into his mind. It was the woman with the old accent. She started rooting around, then up and down his spine. He felt her touch his inner core.

The red haired lady, Sandy, she said his name, his true name, and he convulsed.

How did she know it? Where did she find his name?

She pronounced it three times, commanding it to go... as if the name was the demon, and the demon was the name. Each time she said it, he felt sicker. Something wasn't right. She said the nykk would be unhappy about being cast out, so that was probably it. But his name was him, and he was his name.