She Dies at the End (November Snow #1) (42 page)

Neil stared at her for a moment.  “Do I know you?” he asked her confusedly, not quite remembering her, of course, since she had enthralled him months before.

“We met at the carnival one time,” she admitted, supplying no details.

Neil looked around at the bizarre group gathered in the large living room of his ramshackle house.  “Humph.  Is someone going to explain what’s going on?” he asked.  “Haven’t I seen you on TV?” he added to Ilyn.  Everyone looked at the king, waiting for him to take the lead.  He lay November gently down on a sofa, turned back around, and seemed to make a decision.  He went with the truth, though incomplete.

“My name is Ilyn Zykov.  I own casinos, among other things.  One of them was destroyed a few days ago in a terrorist attack, which is why you’ve seen me on television.  My son Luka is the one who orchestrated the attack.  He wants to, shall we say, take over the family business, and I am unwilling to give it to him.  November has been in my employ since she left the carnival.”

“Doing what, exactly?” Neil interrupted suspiciously.

“Serving as my soothsayer.  Nothing untoward, I assure you,” Ilyn answered.  “You are aware of her gifts, I presume?”

“We never talked about it.  She didn’t like to, you know?  But I could tell she wasn’t fakin’ the whole psychic thing,” Neil admitted.  “Creeped people out, but not me.  I just thought she was special.”

“Well, then you must understand how valuable her ability might be.  Luka is also aware of her value and absconded with her.  Hector and Carlos here were also victims of his penchant for kidnapping.  We liberated them along with November earlier this evening.  As you can see, November was rather heavily drugged during her captivity.  I do not yet know what other mistreatment she may have suffered.”  Here his voice grew thick with anger.  He calmed himself before continuing.  “Now we need a place to hide and rest until we can catch a flight to somewhere she’ll be safe.”

“This worthless son of yours – is he dead?”

“Unfortunately not,” Ilyn replied.

“He’ll come for her again?” Neil asked gruffly.

“Most likely, and soon.  Sheltering us might well endanger you,” Ilyn answered forthrightly.

“Stay as long as you want,” was Neil’s steely-eyed reply.  “I’ve got four extra bedrooms and a finished basement, if that suits you.”

“That will be perfect.  Thank you for your hospitality.  Now, let me introduce everyone,” the king replied.  Once all the head-nodding and hand-shaking was concluded, everyone scattered and found places to rest.  Ilyn put November in Neil’s daughter’s old room, still decorated with purple curtains and pictures of horses.  Pine stayed with her has she slept, as did Ilyn until almost sunrise.

Neil cleaned and bandaged Hector’s leg, after which Hector took a guest bedroom.  He slept uneasily on the soft mattress after months of captivity, falling into an exhausted sleep only after moving to the floor.  Zinnia stayed with Carlos as he slept in another bedroom.  The boy spent a good twelve hours curled up on her chest like a baby.  The vampires settled into the basement for the day, of course, barricading the door from the inside for protection.   All rested, not knowing how soon danger would reappear.

It was such a relief for November to wake slowly, warm and calm and safe.  She opened her eyes to see a patch of late-afternoon sunlight falling across her legs, little motes of dust dancing in the light.  She saw that someone had changed her into some purple and pink plaid flannel pajamas.  She wondered idly what had happened to her dress.  She hoped they had burned it.  Whatever they'd done with it, someone had removed the fairy lantern from the pocket and left it on the nightstand.  Her rosary sat next to it.  She smiled.  She turned her head to see Pine sitting across the room, and her smile turned to a laugh.  Pine looked relieved to hear the sound.

“What, you don’t think I look awesome?” Pine asked, standing and turning to better model his ridiculous ensemble.  “Neil had to scrounge in the attic for clean clothes for everyone to wear while we wash our own.  Apparently, he was quite hip circa 1970.”  Pine was sporting an epic pair of lime green bellbottoms along with an orange paisley blouse.  “You should see Savita's outfit.  She looks like she belongs on a commune, courtesy of Neil’s sister.  The king looks like a cowboy undertaker.  As for Lord William, I have two words for you: lumberjack chic.”

November sat up in bed and took stock of herself.  She was pleased to find that she felt pretty decent, other than being ravenously hungry. “He stayed by your bed until dawn, you know, and Hazel practically had to drag him away to rest in the basement,” Pine reported.  November knew he referred to the king.  She reached out to look for him and found him dead to the world, ramrod straight on his back underneath a foosball table.  He looked strangely fragile.

She was moved by the image, but still, she replied, “If he’s only able to love me when I’m asleep or about to get killed, that isn’t going to work for me.”

“He’s afraid of you.  And for you,” came Zinnia’s voice from the door.  She sounded uncharacteristically subdued, but she had a smile for her friend.  November leapt up to hug her.  “I am so glad you’re alright,” the fairy said fiercely.

“Right back at you,” November replied.  “I was so afraid I’d lost you all.”  She pulled away for a moment to look at her friend.  “I’m so sorry about your mother.”

“I know,” she replied and squeezed her hand.  “But right now, let’s worry about you.  Do you have wounds that need healing?  Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“Not really, but I guess I should.”

“The king could sense your suffering.  I could, too, a little,” Zinnia said.  “It was awful, but at least we knew you were still alive.”

“For the first couple of days, I couldn’t find any of you with my gift.  All I could see was the hotel coming down.  I felt so hopeless.  When I finally caught a glimpse of some of you in the desert, it was all I could do to hide my joy from them.”

“Were they terribly cruel to you?” Zinnia asked worriedly.

“Some of the time.  They would go back and forth, kind one minute and terrible the next.  I guess that’s how you do it, right?  When you want to break your prisoner?"  She shook her head.  "I expected it from Luka, but Willow . . . that was almost worse.  She’s a true believer.  She’ll do anything for him, no hesitation.  And I think she’s probably mentally disturbed.”

“I should have seen it coming.  Or Lord William should have,” Pine said, reproaching himself.

“Not your fault,” November countered.  “Anyway, it could have been a lot worse.  I could have been raped, or maimed, or turned into Luka’s vampire.  It was mostly fear and humiliation and getting knocked around.  And having to drink his blood.”  She shuddered at the memory.

“That’s plenty,” Zinnia said sadly.

“Yeah,” November replied.  She sighed.  “On that cheerful note, let’s take a break for breakfast.  I smell bacon,” she said with somewhat forced cheer.

Pine showed her to the kitchen, where they found Carlos and Hector eating Neil out of house and home.  Zinnia sat down next to Carlos, who brightened immediately.  Hazel was “taking a walk.”  November supposed that there would be an awful lot of dead animals in the vicinity by the time they departed.  Neil was at the stove, happy to be cooking for hungry people and secretly pleased to have a full house in the loneliness of the off-season, even if the circumstances were odd.  November ran and gave him a huge hug, which he returned, spatula still in hand.

“It is so good to see you!” November exclaimed to her old friend.  “Thank you for taking us in.”

“I gave you my address in case of trouble, and it sounds like you’ve had plenty of it,” was his reply.  “Now sit down and eat, and you can tell me everything later.”

November sat down next to the two werewolves.  Carlos smiled shyly and showed her the pancake Neil had made him in the shape of Mickey Mouse.  Hector nodded to her but was too busy chewing to speak.  The werewolves had gotten washed up.  They were both in clean clothes, Carlos wearing a faded concert t-shirt of Neil’s that came down past his knees.  Hector was about Neil’s size, so he’d hit the borrowed-clothes jackpot and landed some duds from the current decade.  It looked like someone had given them both haircuts.  

Hector had a bandage on his leg that was suspiciously free of blood, and November was certain Zinnia had made good on her offer to heal the wolf.  November knew that their invisible trauma would be far more difficult to fix, but the food and care did seem to have perked them up.  She soon dug into her own breakfast, the most delicious she could remember ever eating, made so enjoyable by the fact that she had feared never to eat anything but blood ever again.

Once she had eaten her fill and the others had moved on to the living room, Neil’s questions began.  She tried to be as honest as she could without using the words “fairy” or “vampire” or “werewolf” or "demon."  She told him about her mother’s murder.  “Two lowlifes killed her over a watch,” she said, which was more-or-less true.  She was glad that her shirt covered the awful scar on her arm so she didn’t have to explain that.

“I was hoping you’d call and let me know how you were doing,” he scolded once he had gotten the highlights.  “Those ‘missing’ posters had me pretty worried.  My brother told me CPS had come for you, but then the news said you were a runaway . . .”

“I’m sorry.  I should have called,” she apologized.  “I didn’t find out about the posters right away, and there’s been so much going on, and I didn’t realize that you would worry.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?  I mean, kidnapping – that’s pretty heavy.  Did they hurt you?” Neil asked fiercely.

“Just scared me, mostly,” she fibbed.  “I’ll have some bad dreams, I expect.”

“These people you’re with – they seem a little odd.  But awful attached to you,” he added, trying to be fair.

“That’s a pretty accurate description,” she replied with a rueful smile.  “I’ve gotten pretty attached to them, too.  I don’t have to hide what I am from them.”

“Well, you watch out for that Ilyn guy – he’s got eyes for you, and he’s way too old to be looking at a girl your age,” he counseled.

“Seriously, though, he’s not going to try anything,” she replied, laughing.  Of course, she didn’t tell Neil that Ilyn was too old to be looking at a girl of any age, nor that, as it turned out, she herself was not as young as she appeared to be.

As soon as the sun set, the vampires surfaced.  Neil noticed that none of them ate any food, just as he’d marked Pine and Zinnia’s abstinence from breakfast, but he said nothing.  Ilyn made a beeline for November but didn’t seem to know what to do once he’d found her.  “You are well?” he asked her awkwardly.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied with a bit of a smile.  He reached out and brushed a hand lightly against her cheek.  Then he fled without saying anything else.  November sighed and rolled her eyes.

Greg, William, Hazel, Savita, and Ilyn congregated on the back porch, presumably to form some kind of plan, she hoped.

Ben, excluded from the meeting, sat awkwardly in an armchair in the living room, watching Zinnia playing with Carlos on the floor.  Pine stayed close to November, as usual.  Hector was brooding by the fire, his leg miraculously improved.  Neil stayed silent about noticing that, too.  Ben stared at November.  She, in return, didn’t know what to say.  How could she thank him for killing all those innocent people?  But if he hadn’t done it, she would probably be worse than dead.  She finally settled for asking him if he was okay.

“I’m relieved you’re alive,” he answered, “but I’d be better if Luka were dead.”

“I think we can all get on board with that sentiment,” she replied with a strained smile.  “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.  I assume Luka has a bounty on me, so I can either live on the run or wait somewhere nice for the inevitable.”

“I’m sure they’d give you sanctuary,” she offered, tilting her head in the general direction of the conclave then in progress on the porch.

“It’d be more like house arrest.  I mean, how could they ever trust me?  I wouldn’t trust me, either,” he said morosely.  “I don’t know that I can bear to be around all of you anyway.  It’s just too painful.”

“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely.  He gave her a crooked half-smile before walking out towards the basement stairs to find the solitude he now preferred.

November, feeling antsy and uninformed, went back through the kitchen to eavesdrop on the porch conference.  They noticed her, of course, but kept right on going, which she appreciated, as it made her feel like less of a pawn and more of a player.

“You should have killed him and let her fall,” William said with his typical ruthlessness.

The group made general sounds of protest.  “That would have been dishonorable,” Hazel scolded.  “November is under our protection.”

November inserted her own comment as she came through the door, saying, “He’s right.  Luka dead is of more benefit to the universe than me alive, as far as I can tell.” At Ilyn’s stricken look, she hastened to add, “Not that I’m not grateful to be alive.  But I’m really frightened about what he might do, especially now that he’s backed into a corner.”

“What’s done is done,” Ilyn declared, striding over to November and placing his cloak on her cold shoulders.  He looked at her like a drowning man looks at a lifeboat before turning back to the group.  “He was at the very limit of my range anyway.  I couldn’t be sure of my grip on him or of my aim.  I’m satisfied that I made the right choice.  The question is what to do now.”

“We hunt him down,” William declared.  “Without Willow’s magic, it will be harder for him to hide.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure that Willow is out of the picture,” November cautioned.

“Pine said Philemon left a silver hatchet in her head!” William countered.

“I had a vision a few nights ago of Luka pulling a hatchet out of the aforementioned head,” came November’s reply.  “She’s a survivor.  She’s also completely loyal to Luka and two thirds crazy to boot.  I wouldn’t count her out.”

“I just can’t get over it,” Ilyn said sadly.  “Willow.  I used to read her stories every night before dawn.  Marisha would take her riding on her favorite horse.”

“I think it started that night you and Luka found her.  He purposely worked to win her love, so he could use her later.  Luka was the first one to pick her up after her family died.  I think there’s some kind of fairy magic bond there,” November ventured.

“That’s impossible,” Greg said.

“Tell that to your king,” Hazel said.  “I didn’t think it could happen between a human and a vampire either, but here we are.”  She cocked a head in November’s direction.

“Was Willow why you couldn’t find me without Ben and Philemon?” November asked.

Ilyn nodded guiltily.  “The blood was useless.  Willow must have enchanted the place when it was built.  We had no idea she was a hider.  We thought that gift had died out.  It was always rare, and I haven't heard of a hider in centuries.  We would never have found the fort without Philemon leading us there.  I put you through drinking my blood for nothing.”  November grimaced at the memory.

“Besides needing to worry about Willow, Daphne wasn’t there.  If Luka had her miss his moment of triumph, she must be off somewhere doing something both important and awful,” Hazel pointed out.

“Who’s Daphne?” asked November wearily.

“Luka’s Second.  A night-powered fairy, a very rare gift.  Means she can feed and heal others at night as well as by day.  She’s a very dangerous woman,” Greg answered.

“Well, where are we going to go?” William asked, getting the conversation back on track.  “I say back to Oakland.  We’re fortified and well-staffed.  He won’t dare come at least until he’s had time to regroup.”

“Your house is also in the middle of a city, surrounded by innocent people,” Savita pointed out, chiming in for the first time.  “And he took down the hotel with one enthralled human and a stolen airplane full of C-4.”

“Only because he made sure November wasn’t in it first,” William countered.  “He won’t risk a bombing anywhere she might be.”

“The Livermore ranch?” November asked.

“Hard to defend.  Hard to escape,” came William’s reply.  "Wouldn't want to stay more than a night."

“Should we split up?” Pine asked from the doorway.  “No, bad idea,” he said in answer to his own question.  “He’ll just go for November.”

“He’ll be able to find me anywhere?” November asked with quiet dread.