Naming Day (Jake Underwood Book 1) (16 page)

The van had sped up the street once the action started and blocked the driveway so that the Sienna was stuck there. It looked like a dwarf behind the wheel. He saw me standing in the door and started point at me, trying to catch the ogre’s attention. That just wouldn’t do.

Ogres aren’t the same as other Fey, say for example, Elves. They aren’t craft users so I was pretty sure that his shield was probably the result of Elf or Dwarf magic. In any event, it wouldn’t be proof against my Fey specials.

“Hey!” I shouted “Ugly!” I drew the Glock and sighted as the Ogre started to spin around. He smiled or growled, it’s hard to tell with ogres, and was leveling the gun at me when I started firing. Ogres aren’t susceptible to iron the way elves are but the bullets went through his shields like they weren’t there. I got off five shots before he even noticed that he had actually been shot. He looked surprised as I continued to unload the clip into him, one shot after another. By this time he was trying dodge and backup at the same time. As he spun trying to retreat from the iron bullets that were striking him I could see that some of my shots had barely penetrated his thick skin. That was problem with shooting ogres, they take a lot of killing.

The obviously ogre sized M16A dropped from his hands and he finally fell face forward to the porch. He wasn’t out yet as he caught himself and used his hands to prop himself up. He was panting like a dog as blood dripped from several of wounds. I gave him a push with my foot and he finally toppled over, still trying to get back up.

I called out to Marty and reloaded the Glock with another clip of Fey Specials and staggered towards the van. The dwarf who had been inside the van had managed to extricate himself and had landed on his feet. He was obviously shocked to see somebody walk away from gunfight with an ogre and that bought me a little time. He wasn’t sure what was going on and he wanted to wait before committing himself to an action.

I made my way around the Sienna and I could see that the Dwarf had placed himself in a position where I could he see the front the house and me. He looked confused and didn’t seem to know what to do. I suspected that he was low man on the team and was used to taking orders from someone, probably the elf.

“We don’t have an ocean of time here, dwarf. Mortal authorities will be arriving soon and it won’t suit either of us to be found here.” I waited for him to respond.  My head was pounding from the concussive blast of the lightning and I was having a hard time staying focused. “Maybe there is way we can both get out of this without being discovered by the authorities, Mortal or Fey.”

I heard a sound behind me and saw Marty run up to the porch and stare at the still thrashing ogre. Smoke was beginning to pour from the open front door as the house began to burn. He just shook his head and worked his way around the minivan to where I was. I sent him back in the house for Dalia and told him to load her into the Sienna. He turned and went back to the house hopping over the convulsing ogre.

“I’m listening. Make it quick. I bore easily.” The dwarf was a tough talker and I was pretty sure that he could back it up if he had to. More lights were coming on and I could see movement on some of the other porches. It was too dark to see much, especially with the streetlights conveniently “out”. I was sure the dwarf was aware of the mounting activities of the neighborhood.

“I propose a simple trade. You roll that van of yours back and let us drive out and then you can fetch your team and get the hell out of here.” It wasn’t bad deal, it just probably not in line with his orders.

“Why should I bother? It looks like most of my team is dead anyway. The fire should cover my tracks and this undermount grenade launcher should take care of you bunch of bastards nicely.” He grimly waved his M16 and showed me that he wasn’t bluffing.

“They aren’t dead. At least not yet. You know how hard ogres are to kill. He’s hurting, no doubt, with at least nine slugs in him, but he’s not susceptible to iron. He could make it if you can get him to some help.” I paused and I watched him grunt in acknowledgement of exactly how tough ogres were. “Your elf isn’t shot, but he does have a nasty burn on his face and he may be iron poisoned. I won’t lie to you, he could be dead. But he was still alive when I left him. He will certainly die if you don’t get him out of there. I don’t know about the other guy.

“I give you my word on the Compact that neither I nor any of those loyal to me will oppose your recovery of your team in any way as long as you do not interfere with us leaving.” A wave of nausea swept me as I leaned against the minivan. My head was pounding and my vision was starting to waver. I had been concussed before and this certainly seemed like a doozy. I just had to hold it together a little longer.

Behind me I heard the Sienna door open and spared it but a glance. If it wasn’t Marty then there wasn’t much I could do about it. I hoped Dalia was still alive.

Up the street, I saw blobs of light moving in the darkness. Probably flashlights. I hope that none of them got shot for being so curious. The dwarf seemed to be considering his options and he finally sighed and lowered his weapon. All he said was “Okay. Get the hell out of here! But fair warning, when we catch you, you will be the deadest sonovabitch who ever lived.”

I was never really sure if it was my speech or the rapidly encroaching neighbors that spurred him to a final decision. The last thing I remember was sliding in next to Marty as he put the minivan in gear and sped off into the night. I gave in to the pressure in my head and passed out.

My head was pounding and it felt like little men with heavy boots were mining in my head with pickaxes. Not only were my ears still ringing, but my vision was a little blurry. The sight that greeted my eyes was the morning light filtering through the overcast sky. It took me a few minutes but I gradually realized that I wasn’t in the mini-van any longer.

I took a deep breath and straightened up and realized that it might have been a mistake. I looked around me and automatically felt for my gun. It was still there, snuggly cosseted in my shoulder holster. I was in some kind of sedan and Marty was at the wheel. There was a faint smell of smoke and blood. I carefully turned around and found Dalia covered with a blanket, she looked a little pale but that’s kinda normal for a Fey. I also noticed that her Glamour was gone, revealing her Elfin nature. Her ears were pointed and she had that impossibly delicate structure that hid a deceiving strength.  Marty was driving and he looked worse for his activities. His eyes were puffy and red and he had gripped the wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white and straining. I couldn’t identify where I was exactly. The landscape sped by and I came to realize that we were someplace outside of Houston. The gray skies couldn’t hide the fact that we were heading east.

“Where are we?” I croaked.

“Good morning, sunshine.” He said sardonically. “I was afraid that you might be in a coma. We are currently heading east on Interstate-10, towards New Orleans. We just passed the exit to Alexandria.” He looked at me and said, “Pardon my French, but you look like shit. I hope you feel better than you look.”

“Not really.” My voice was starting to steady as I started coughing up smoke clogged phlegm. After a few minutes of what felt like trying to spew my lungs onto the dashboard, I was able to get it under control. “Can you find a place to pull over? I need to piss and stretch my legs.”

Marty grunted and turned the car around. Apparently he had spotted a rest area a few miles back. He didn’t say anything the few miles that it took to get there. He drove in and pulled all the way to most secluded parking space he could find. I got out and quickly discovered that while my head still hurt most everything was where it was supposed to be. I was stiff, but a few stretches put that right. My clothes were stained with blood, probably Dalia’s, and various burns from the firefight last night. I asked Marty about clothes and he told me that the only clean clothing we had was Dalia’s and he didn’t think it would fit me. I was forced to agree.

I went into the bathroom and took care of necessary business and washed my face and proceeded to spot clean my clothes as much as possible. I’m not vain, at least not in regard to my sartorial splendor, but I didn’t want to attract any more attention than I had to.

Feeling fresher than when I had entered, I came out to discover Marty leaning against the trunk of the car and smoking a cigarette.

“I thought you quit.”

“Seemed like a good time to start back up.” He looked at me with hard eyes. “We need to talk.” He dropped his smoldering butt and ground it out with his heel. His coat opened and I could see that his holster was still unstrapped.

“Yeah, we do. But indulge me for a few minutes more. What happened after I passed out?” Marty seemed calm, but that didn’t fool me. He was tightly coiled and close to snapping.

“I’ll tell you this, an already crappier night got worse while you were getting your beauty sleep.” He took out another cigarette and lit it, apparently trying to make up for the years that he hadn’t smoked.  “I drove down the street slowly, hoping that maybe no one pays any particular attention to the minivan, after all, they didn’t know anything weird was happening yet. As soon as I hit the highway, I could hear the sound of sirens and I knew it was time to ditch the van. I knew it was only a matter of time until the started looking for the minivan that was registered to that address, so I went to see Carlos. You remember Carlos?”

“Yeah, he runs an auto lot in South Houston, one of those pay by the week places that caters to illegals. Isn’t it the one with the Model T on the sign that says they have been in business since 1910?”

“That’s him. It’s also a cover for a chop shop. You owe him a big favor by the way. Not only did he fix us up with this nice Crown Victoria but he has a cousin who’s a doctor, or at least he used to be before he came north. Not a bad street doc. He fixed Dalia up. She was still bleeding a little and bandaged her up pretty good. He gave me a couple of dressing changes and bag of pills for pain in case she needed them. He also took a look at you decided that your head was too hard to break. Cleaned up a few cuts and bruises and declared you cured of being dead. Carlos was discreet, He didn’t ask questions, although I am sure he had quite a few, hell he even didn’t ask about the her ears, although he did make the sign of the cross when he saw them. It cost us most of that money you had hidden in the money belt, but it got us a clean car that no one is looking for.”

“What happened to the Minivan?”

He smiled. “Carlos again. He assured me that no one would ever see it again, at least in one piece.” He paused for a moment and took a long drag on his cigarette. “My sister’s gonna kill me. First, I get her house shot up and burned out and then I get her vehicle chopped. I hope whatever is going on is worth all the crap I’m going to have to put up when all this is over.”

“Why are we heading to New Orleans?” I asked. Don’t get me wrong, I love New Orleans, but I couldn’t think of any reason to go there.

“I wasn’t sure where to go and considering how fast they tracked you to my sister’s place, no place I could think of in Houston would really be safe enough. Actually, I was hoping that you would have come around before now so you could give me a little direction and clear things up for me.” He looked at me doubtfully. “If you are up to it I could use some help with the driving. I haven’t slept much and I am pretty much wiped out. Maybe we could hole up some where and recover, I’d like to get Dalia into a real bed instead of back seat, she could use a little peace and quiet. She’s been in and out of consciousness and isn’t resting easy.” He paused and glanced at Dalia through the back window.

“What is she Jake? She has the oddest eyes and her ears make her look like a Star Trek reject. And what the hell was that thing you shot on the porch, it couldn’t have been human. It had tusks and horns for godsakes!”

He was waiting for me to answer his question, but more importantly he was waiting for the truth that I had promised. I owed it to him and at first I thought the words would stick in my throat, but I found that I wanted to tell him and so I did.

“Not human exactly, not Mortal certainly, but still with all of our Mortal faults. It was an Ogre. She is an Elf, full blood by the way, sorta rare here. I’m much more common as halfbreed although there aren’t so many of us around that you would notice.” Marty just looked at me trying to decide if was just being cute. He gradually came to realize that I wasn’t any cuter than normal.

“Your’e saying you’re…an Elf?” The look of disbelief was plain in his face.

“No, a halfbreed, although technically we are called chimera. An Elf is only an Elf if he is a full blood. Actually, I would call myself a Fey. You know, short for Faerie. This kind of thing is very important to most Fey, so keep it in mind. It might prove useful later on.”

It took him a few minutes to digest what he said and look for inconsistencies before he realized that it was too absurd to apply Cartesian logic to. I could also see that he knew that I believed what I was saying and that he would let it play out to see where it went.

“I always knew there was something weird about you.” He said calmly. “I thought maybe you used to be in the CIA or something. I didn’t realize that you were crazy. Do you really expect me to believe that you are a halfbreed Elf? You’re human, just like me!” He flicked his cigarette off and waited for a reply.

“Not unless you were born in the year 1900 and are over a hundred years old. Look, I know how weird it sounds and I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t have to. But circumstances have forced me into a corner. It’s not through either. There are more things that I have to tell you that I am afraid you might not want to accept.” He started to interrupt and I held up my hand up. “This will go a lot quicker if you let me finish before asking questions. Let me ask you another question first; that thing I shot on the porch, nine times by the way, was it human? Did those tusks and horns look cosmetic?”

He stopped to think about it for a moment. “No. They looked functional, lethal in fact. From out in the bushes where we were trading shots he looked like a giant of man, but when I got to the porch I could see that he was not proportional. Ya know what I mean?” I nodded my head.

“Yes, Ogres are more heavily muscled in the torso than they are in the lower body. Not so much that it makes them ungainly, just enough so that they are extremely strong in their upper body. Don’t think that just because they are strong that they are stupid. They aren’t. They are incredibly skillful fighters and they know the things they want to know. Ogre society is pretty closed even to other Fey. They nominally serve the Court of Dawn, although individual Ogres often take service with the Court of Twilight.” He eyes were wide open and staring. He was having a hard time taking all this in. Not that I blamed him, it was hard for me to grasp sometimes, let alone someone who didn’t believe in the Fey or had never heard of them.

“Court of Dawn? Court of Twilight? What the hell are they?”

“It’s complicated and I am bound by oath not to reveal any of this to a mortal.” He looked disturbed. “Look, I know it sounds crazy. Don’t you think I know how crazy it sounds? If we were back in Houston, I could prove it to you by showing you things that would be acceptable beyond doubt. But I can’t. Don’t be freaked out by that ‘Mortal’ stuff. I think of myself as more mortal than fey. That fact has caused me some small amount of trouble over the years. I can tell you everything you want to know about my dual heritage and the Fey, but first I have to ask you something. For me to tell you these things carries a risk, a risk to both of us. If I break the Compact, which I will explain shortly, I will be risking not just my life but everyone connected to me who could be smeared by me being declared Unclean.”

“I can avoid this if I bring you in to my world, in other words, to make you Fey.” He started to object and then shut his mouth. I guess he figured that I was either bullshit crazy or I was serious.

“Of course, I can’t actually make you a Fey by birthright. But I can make you sort of an honorary Fey, I can call you to service and swear you in as a member of my band. It doesn’t happen much anymore, but I am told that long ago when the Fey walked here and ruled in some places that it wasn’t an uncommon honor for a few select Mortals to be sworn so.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yes. Again.  I am deadly serious, as serious as those Fey who tried to kill us. This will go a lot faster if you believe that I am not having a joke on you and that I am telling you the truth as far as I know it.” He nodded.

“First before I can take your oath, I have to explain the Compact to you. It is important that you understand exactly what oath you are taking and what you will be swearing by. This isn’t like swearing to tell the truth in court on a bible. You break this oath and very bad things can happen.”

“The Compact is an agreement between the Court of Twilight and the Court of Dawn, both of which make up the Bright Kingdom. In some ways, it is the ultimate peace treaty. Both Courts had spent centuries fighting each other, exhausting the noble houses both of blood and vitality. In addition, the world of Mortals was changing. There was little room for the Fey in the world that they had once used as a playground. Religions and faiths friendly to them had fallen and hostile ones had arisen. The Catholic faith was the most aggressive in despoiling the places where they could live and cross from their realm to ours. They made it very difficult for the Fey to live here.”

“I certainly don’t blame the church, the Fey can be a bunch of bastards and they use people up with little thought. Most of them treat mortals as playthings and it doesn’t matter if they get used up since they live so short a time compared to the Fey. The Church was willing to sign the compact if it would rid the world of the Fey and technically, it does. No Fey may live here, they may only pass through to another place. Further, the Fey could no longer take mortals against their will or kill them for sport. Basically, it forbid the Fey to do much of anything here except pass through.”

“Of course there are exceptions and loopholes and you can be sure that both courts work them to their own advantage. Half breeds like myself can choose where they want to live. That’s why I’m here.”

“You mean the Catholic church knows about you...guys?”

“They used to. I’m not sure if they really believe it or not anymore. They may not even remember. The Compact was signed with the church in 575 AD. That was a long time ago. But it doesn’t matter, as long as the church doesn’t break the Compact, it will stay in force.

“The most basic thing about the Compact is that all those who signed it are bound by it. In Faerie magic, names are important. The signatories of the original Compact and their descendents lend power to ceremonies that invoke the Compact. If you violate the Compact, then you are not protected by it any longer. Worse, all who are covered by the Compact are required to capture you and turn you over to the judgment of the Court. If you are forsworn and declared Unclean, no one can help you and every hand is raised against you. Most who are declared Unclean don’t survive long. The best you can hope for is permanent exile, the worst is eternal torment.”