Shadow Rising (27 page)

Ivana Krask. To say she was a freak show was putting it mildly. One of the Elder Fae, she lived by her own rules and complained about the lack of “bright flesh,” her chipper term for babies. Served raw. On a plate. Ivana also kept a little garden out back, a kitchen garden to which she confined the ghosts she so loved to torture. I had a feeling those were just the bare bones of her delightful antics.

She answered the phone on the second ring. What the Maiden of Karask was doing with a phone I didn’t know, but some of the Elder Fae had tried to assimilate into society, if only to continue wreaking havoc on the world.

“Ivana? It’s Menolly.” I wondered if she’d remember me, but I needn’t have worried. She remembered me just fine.

“Well, Dead Girl. What are you thinking of tonight,
meat on the hoof
?” Her tone was jolly. I must have caught her at a good time.

Rule One:
Never ask the Elder Fae for favors. If you admit to asking their help, you’re in their debt forever and they’ll take it by the pound out of your hide.

Rule Two:
Show respect. But never show fear if you want something from them. Fear would get you in deep shit.

Rule Three:
Never welsh on your debts.

Rule Four:
Never, ever turn your back on one of the Elder Fae.

All other rules were subject to the matter at hand. And when in doubt, throw the rules book out the window, and run like hell. Because if you have to ask what to do next, they’re going to chase you down till you wish you were dead.

“Ivana, I thought you might be interested in striking a bargain.
If
you can produce results.” I waited, knowing the inevitable response.

“
Bright flesh?
You have bright flesh for the bargaining?” Her hungry voice gave me the shivers, and even though I’d be considered the monster by most people, I knew very well she was by far and away worse than I could ever imagine being.

“No bright meat,” I scolded her. “
Never
bright meat! But prime beef or plump chickens.”

She sounded disappointed. “You are a harsh one, Dead Girl. But…I think I hunger for oinkers. A suckling babe of an oinker, if the deal be struck. But before I commit to such a deal, tell me what you wish to trade for.”

I could have sworn I heard a shriek in the background. I did not ask who—or what—was with her, especially when she giggled.

“Can you dispatch will-o’-the-wisps? And we may have some ghosts for your garden.” I watched the wording carefully. Elder Fae were worse than the djinn for twisting the meaning of words.

Ivana paused, and I could practically hear the turning of those nasty little wheels in her head. After a moment, she said, “Aye. I can suck up the Corpse Candles and spit them out through my teeth. They fear neither Younger Fae nor Elder Fae, but Ivana knows how to handle them. Bugger the nasty pests, they get in my garden at times and I shoo them away when I don’t feel like dispatching them.”

“So you
can
take care of them? We have a yard full of will-o’-the-wisps and we need to get them off our land.”
I glanced at the clock. I had to get moving. I settled the phone in the docking bay and activated the speaker as I pulled out of the parking lot.

Ivana snorted. “I can take care of them. An oinker babe, suckling and plump, juicy and raw.”

I groaned. Where the fuck was I going to find a suckling pig this time of night? But we had to have her help. “Fine, a deal struck. I will meet you in two hours at the edge of our land. We live—”

“Oh,
I know
where you live, Dead Girl. Never think I don’t know all about you and your sisters. A deal is struck on a tentative bargain. But ’tis not set until we shake in person.” The line went dead.

“Phone, off.”

Disconcerted that she knew where we lived, I stared at the road.

Where the hell was I going to find a suckling pig? I’d have to have it when she showed up. And then, I remembered. One of the werewolves we knew kept pigs and sheep. It was late—too late for a social call, but I didn’t have time to wait. I stared at my phone, trying to decide whether to call first. But that would give Frank a heads-up, meaning a chance to forbid me to drop over. Weres and vamps weren’t always the best of friends, though we were doing our best to put some of the old animosities to rest.

I brought up Frank’s contact info and checked his address. He lived about twenty minutes out of Seattle, and with the light traffic at night, I could make it there and back before Ivana met me at the house.

At times like this, I missed being able to let out a long sigh. There was something so satisfying about letting out a breath,
oomphing
, as it were. Oh, I could do it, but it required me to focus, rather than being instinctive, so it was pretty much a waste of time.

I missed that, just like I missed making noise when I walked, which was why I wore the ivory beads in my hair—they clinked, reminding me that I was still alive. And high heels clicking on sidewalks helped, too. There was an eerie silence that went along with being a vampire. No breath
filling the lungs, no heart or pulse beating. Once I’d died and been turned, I began to realize how many sounds the living body makes, sounds that I never noticed, but took for granted. As a vampire, all the sounds of life within were silenced. Oh, we had blood in our veins, but it moved slowly, quietly, magically.

As I turned onto the exit leading to the freeway, I glanced at the clock. It was eight thirty. I hoped Frank would still be awake. He tended to keep farmer’s hours—early to bed, early to rise. I knew that because we got my bottled blood from him, and from a few other farmers around, and sometimes I came out instead of my sisters to buy blood, meat, and eggs. I’d show up at five in the morning, and every time, he was fully awake, breakfast tucked away, coffee in hand.

When he slaughtered the meat, he’d drain the blood, sanitize it, and pop it in the freezer. Selling it to us brought him some extra cash, and supplied me with necessary sustenance.

I glanced over my shoulder and, seeing no one behind me, shifted lanes, speeding along at a good pace. Seattle was a bustling metropolitan area during the day, but in late evening, when there weren’t any baseball or football games in play, traffic was fairly light. Afternoon rush hour tended to last from around three to seven
P.M.
After that, the streets were relatively clear.

The rain started up again, bouncing on the windshield in fat drops. I flicked on the wipers, then turned on the radio, running through the stations until I found the evening news.

There had been a murder in downtown Seattle—gangbangers roughing it up. And a policeman—no one we knew—had been hit while he was directing traffic around an accident. But the announcer said the cop would recover. I breathed a sigh of thanks. I didn’t pray to the gods much. Oh, I knew they existed, but I had no truck with any of them. They’d never done anything to help me, and they’d done plenty to hurt others. But for the cop’s sake, I whispered a simple thank-you to the powers that be. There was too much bad news in the world, and I was grateful for the good that we heard about.

My phone rang.

“Answer phone,” I said. There were laws against holding a cell phone while driving—for good reason. While we might break a lot of rules, there were some laws we actually followed.

It was Iris. “Camille and Morio are home, and they’re trying to do something about the will-o’-the-wisps but not having much luck. Menolly, I’ve tried to call Nerissa several times and she isn’t answering. I tried both her home phone and her cell. I’m worried. This isn’t like her.”

I kept my eyes on the road, but my mind began to spin. Where the hell was she? “Iris, can you call Yugi and ask him if she showed up at work today? Then call me right back.”

“I’ll do that now.” Iris hung up.

I wanted to turn around and go home, but now we needed that pig, and even though I was worrying up a storm, I had to keep going. Less than two minutes later, Iris called back. “Menolly? I talked to Yugi. He said that Nerissa was at work today. She told him she had some shopping to do this evening. I would think she’d be back by now.”

I eased down my speed. “Not necessarily. A lot of the malls are open until nine, and you know that Nerissa can shop till the stores close. I think I know what she’s looking for.” Images of wedding dresses flashed through my mind. “If she’s not back by the time I get home, I’ll go out looking for her. But right now, I’m working on a solution to those fucking will-o’-the-wisps.”

“What are you doing, Menolly?” Iris sounded suspicious.

“I’ve engaged help and she’ll be there in about ninety minutes. I’m procuring…payment.” I knew what Iris was going to say but there was no getting around it. She’d out me if I didn’t out myself. “I called Ivana.”

There was a brief silence, then Iris exploded. “Are you mad, girl? You contacted the Maiden of Karask, after we warned you against it?”

“She can suck down the will-o’-the-wisps as well as ghosts. You yourself said that nobody was having much luck—”

“Yes, but Smoky and Camille just left for Aeval’s. What do you think will happen if the Queen of Shadow and Dusk comes here, and then one of the Elder Fae shows up? Don’t
you realize what a terrible combination that is? The Elder Fae detest the Fae Queens, and the Fae Queens have little love for the Elder Fae!” Iris sounded horrified. “Menolly, what were you thinking?”

“Listen, I’m tired about worrying who’s going to piss off who. Iris, I have to go. I’m coming up on my exit and need to focus on the road. Phone, hang up.”

The phone went silent. There’d be hell to pay once I got home, but I’d deal with that later. Iris’s hormones were in full form, and she’d become a terror on heels. Well, not heels—she was wearing flats now, and she was already starting to show. Which made sense, now that we knew she was carrying twins.

I changed lanes and eased onto the exit ramp. Frank lived just north of Mountlake Terrace, on three acres nestled in a suburb. He didn’t keep a large farm, but it was tidy and neat and provided meat for his family as well as several friends. Camille said he made the best sausage she’d ever tasted, so we bought all our pork from him. Not that I ever would be able to taste the meat, but at least the rest of the family loved it.

As for animal blood, what we bought from him wasn’t too bad. I never tasted antibiotics or hormones in it, like some of the commercial animal blood on the market.

I eased off on the speed and turned onto the private lane Frank lived on. There were plenty of kids in the neighborhood, including Frank’s three daughters, and animals running around, so I edged along slowly. The street was lit by a couple of streetlights, but it was still dim. As I pulled into the driveway, I was relieved to see lights on in the house. I parked and hopped out of the car, dashing for the door to escape the rain beating steadily down around me.

As I rang the bell, a noise sounded inside, and then the door opened to reveal Esme, Frank’s youngest daughter. Around eight—or what the equivalent would be among Weres—her eyes went wide as she stared up at me. Her hair was curly, held back in a ponytail, and she was wearing a modest jumper and saddle shoes. Frank did not allow his daughters to dress beyond their ages.

Esme called over her shoulder, “Da! Miss Menolly’s
here.” And then, she looked back at me and solemnly curtsied, her finger crooked in her mouth. “Da will be here in a moment.”

“Thank you,” I said, stifling a grin. She was too cute for words.

A moment later, Frank appeared. He opened the screen door. “Menolly, is something wrong? Did you run out of blood? Come in.” I was touched by his concern. He could have forced me to stay outside, but instead he had assumed I needed help and allowed me into his household.

“Thank you, Frank. I’m sorry I came around so late. I wouldn’t have, if it wasn’t a matter of…well, not life and death, but we have a situation with will-o’-the-wisps and need your help.”

“I have no clue on what to do about Corpse Candles, Menolly.” He ushered me into the living room.

“Oh, it’s not them in particular that I need help with. It’s…well…”

I sat in the chair he showed me to. Frank’s house was modestly decorated, tasteful, cozy, and homey. I smiled at the family photograph hanging over the fireplace. That was new, and they were a handsome-looking clan.

“What do you need?” Frank Willows was tall with broad shoulders. He had black hair with a shock of white through it, and thick lips. He
looked
like a farmer, and he was proud of his work. His wife worked in IT, but she seldom came out to speak to us. Frank was definitely the head of the household, as was common among werewolves, but we never saw any sign of abuse of power when we visited. And we’d never heard a word against his character.

I cleared my throat. “I need a suckling pig. Preferably still raw.”

Frank stared at me. “That’s your solution to an invasion of will-o’-the-wisps? I didn’t know they liked pork.” A smile escaped his lips.

“Well, yes, in a way. I’ve engaged one of the Elder Fae to come help us and she demands an ‘oinker’…a suckling piglet. It’s better to meet their demands rather than to try to circumnavigate them.”

Frank’s mirth quickly vanished. “You’ve called on the Elder Fae? Do you have a death wish?”

I shrugged. “I’m already dead, so that’s rather moot. Seriously, I’ve worked with her once before and she was of great help. We can’t seem to figure out a way to get rid of the damned things, and she can.”

Tapping my fingers on the blue upholstery of the chair, I said, “I know it’s a fool’s venture, Frank, but we have a lot of worries right now, and we can’t be distracted from our main tasks. A yard full of will-o’-the-wisps may not seem like much of a danger, but anything that interferes with our primary focus is an impediment.”

Frank rubbed his temples. Most people didn’t realize that he was part of the Supe Community Council, but he was. And he was one of the few who knew about the demon menace. He was quiet, always staying in the background, but he exerted a steadying influence on some of the more volatile Weres, and since Exo Reed’s death, Frank had been assuming more power in the Council.