Blood, Smoke and Mirrors

Chapter Seven

For a heartbeat I was afraid I’d been dropped into the same earthen cavern as last time but with a different dragon, one that’d be more open to barbequing me. After all, maybe that had been the point of the original test, and the Council hadn’t realized that the dragon they’d plopped into the room with me was an easygoing pacifist who just wanted to watch celebrity Jeopardy!

The thought faded as the lights came up around me, allowing me to see my surroundings. The floor beneath me was made up of rough carved blocks of stone coated with a thin layer of dampness that soaked into the seat of my jeans. Though I could see, the light was still dim, produced by a series of torches placed around the room. The air was humid, and the sound of dripping water echoed around me.

“Well, I don’t think this is our level,” Lex commented. Surprised, I turned toward the sound of his voice and saw him getting to his feet. He won’t be able to protect you during the next test. My father’s words echoed in my head, and yet Lex was here.

“Yeah, definitely not. I think our trip to your next contact is going to be delayed.”

Reaching down, he took my hand and helped me up. “Looks that way. Let’s find out where we are.”

We walked down a corridor toward a better lit area, and as we approached, three doorways loomed into view at the end of it, each crossed with ominous, thick metal bars. A prison? A dungeon? It was difficult to see what lay beyond those doors, so I took another hesitant step forward.

“They are all guilty.”

Startled, I turned to my right, and Cecelia of the Silver Crescent stood next to us as though she’d appeared out of thin air, her gaze turned toward the three doors.

“Guilty of what?” I asked.

The faerie woman turned toward me, ignoring my question as she coolly regarded me with her regal stare. “It is up to you to determine their punishments. At least one of these criminals deserves the sentence of death.”

“Death?” I blurted. I couldn’t call for someone’s death, not a stranger. Not anyone-well, with the very deserving exception of my father. Aside from that though, I was against capital punishment in my world, and I wasn’t about to start doling out death sentences here.

“You may speak with the prisoners. When you have decided their fate, speak with me again.” Folding her hands together, she took a step back, watching me with an air of infinite patience in her perfect posture.

“Okay. Now, though I’m happy I got to bring backup with me this time, why is Lex here?” The faerie woman didn’t answer, her expression unchanging. “Great.” I sighed quietly. I guessed they were allowing him to be a one-man cheering section, which was fine by me. I needed all the help I could get.

Licking my lips, I approached the first cell. Peering through the bars, I spotted an imp sitting on a cot, its tiny legs swinging back and forth as it stared at a spot on the floor, its bright red skin a startling splash of color in the dull gray cell.

“What did you break?” I asked. Imps are one of the less intelligent creatures of Faerie, and thankfully less powerful as well. If faeries are the embodiment of magic, imps are the embodiment of mischief. They seem to serve no purpose other than causing destruction and mayhem. Despite what you may think, those aren’t necessarily bad things. Often a little purification by fire can go a long way in raising awareness about a problem, bringing attention to an area, things like that.

The imp looked up at me with its beady little black eyes, and its tiny shoulders slumped in obvious defeat. “It wasn’t that important!” it protested in its high-pitched voice.

“Important enough to get your butt tossed in jail, buddy.” I pointed a scolding finger at it. “What was it? Cut somebody’s brake line? Cause a pile-up on the Kennedy during rush hour?”

“No.”

“Cough it up. Confession is good for the soul, you know.”

The imp sniffled and then burst into tears. I suppose I should have felt bad, but I’ve had enough bad imp experiences to not be fooled by their crocodile tears. I didn’t believe it was sorry for whatever it was it did-it was sorry that it had gotten caught. Rolling my eyes, I decided to move on to the next and come back later to find out what the little bugger had done. I didn’t have time for crying imps, I needed to go home so we could talk to Lex’s next contact and figure out why the vampires wanted their puppet as Oberon.

I moved to the middle cell. This one was much darker than the one the imp occupied. A dank, musty odor permeated the air, and there was something vaguely familiar about it. Frowning, I leaned forward and was rewarded by nearly getting my dumb face scratched off as a furred arm shot through the bars and swiped at me with a set of wicked claws.

“Cat!” Lex shouted. Dragging me out of harm’s way, he held me tight against him as my pulse thudded loudly in my ears. Cackling laughter reminiscent of a hyena’s call sounded from the darkness of the cell, and I glared at it.

“Cute, real cute,” I growled between gritted teeth. A snuffling noise answered me, and a stubby snout approached the bars, sniffing in my direction like a dog. It was some sort of canine, caught halfway between human and beast. Pale gray eyes stared from above the snout-they were human and not animal eyes, and a gleam of madness shone in them. Despite the fact that shapeshifters are controlled by wild magic, most of them are very stable, sane people. However, when wild magic is loosed on a weak, fractured mind, the results are catastrophic. Shapeshifters are not creatures of Faerie though, and belong to Earth. If this one was being held here, it must have done something to harm a resident of this world.

Lex released his grip and stood by my side, and together we stared at the shapeshifter. “That one’s lost. It’s got no control left.”

“I know,” I answered him and then addressed the shifter. “So what’d you do to get tossed in here?” I barely heard the click of claws on stone as the shifter moved, pacing up and down the row of bars as it watched us.

“Witch…” it whispered in a soft hiss. A chill ran down my spine and I couldn’t help but shudder. I swear it laughed at my reaction. “Witch. I am guilty of no crime.”

I raised an eyebrow at it as the shifter continued to pace. “Okay. What do they think you did?”

“They think I hunted the hunter, but I did not.” The shifter snarled with a snap of its teeth. “The hunter hunted me, I defended myself. That is no crime!” It shrieked, an inhuman howl worthy of a werewolf movie that echoed off the stone walls.

“Hunter?” There were those who hunted shapeshifters exclusively, for a variety of reasons ranging from the benign to the malicious. Attacking a human or magician hunter wouldn’t have landed the shifter here, though. “Do you know what it’s talking about?” I asked Lex.

“It killed a guardian,” he replied, his voice hollow. “That’s the shifter that killed Thompson.”

“I had to, it would have killed me,” the creature snarled.

“What’s the story here?”

“Thompson was a guardian in Arizona. He was killed while tryin’ to enforce a warrant on that shifter. Happened last week.”

Like in an old western movie, the good guys weren’t supposed to kill an outlaw unless it was wanted dead or alive, or just plain dead. If the shifter had a death warrant, yeah, I could see why it would have fought back that ferociously. The question then became how had it earned a death warrant in the first place?

“What’d you do that they sent a guardian after you?”

“I was a very bad dog. Come a little closer, and I will show you.”

“Thanks, I’ll pass.” I shuddered, glad I was out of arm’s reach. The wild magic had broken this one. I didn’t have to know the details of its crimes to know it had committed at least one inhuman atrocity, if not more. It simply couldn’t help itself-it had all the instincts of an animal and no control over them.

I moved on to the final cell and saw a thin, scrawny teenage girl seated on her cot, her arms wrapped around her legs. She looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes, her gaze heavy with fear and sorrow. The sight of her made my heart ache.

“Oh, honey, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry.” She hiccupped. “I just wanted him to like me, I didn’t-” The girl’s eyes filled with tears and she swallowed down a sob. “I didn’t know.”

“What didn’t you know?”

“I didn’t know he was allergic to the pollen.”

“Pollen?” For a moment I pondered that, wondering just what sort of magic the girl had used on the poor boy. If a flower was involved, it was probably used in a potion, and love potions were the most popular recipes. However, there was only one love potion I’d heard of that contained an ingredient that would catch the attention of the faeries.

“Was the pollen from Medb’s flower?” I asked, and she nodded miserably. Medb’s flowers grew only in Faerie and were famous for their ability to control the minds of men. “You’re an alchemist?” The girl nodded again. “And the boy’s not a magician?” Another nod. Poor kid, talk about dumb luck. It was hard to tell what magical ingredients a straight will have an adverse reaction to, particularly in the age of allergies.

“He’s…he’s in the, the hospital.” At least the boy hadn’t died, that was a good thing. If a healer could sneak in to see him, the kid could probably be put to rights, no permanent damage caused.

“You know love potions don’t cause real love, don’t you, honey?”

“I just wanted him to notice me. I thought if he did he’d see that I’m so much better than that stupid Jennifer.”

Ah, young love. I hadn’t suffered from a real debilitating crush until college, myself. Probably because I was convinced that men were the worst kind of scum and should be avoided like the plague. It took some time and therapy for me to realize that it was unfair to blame all men for the crimes of my father.

“Even if he did notice you because of the potion, it wouldn’t be real. It wouldn’t last. True love’s a rare thing, you know? Can’t put it in a bottle.”

She nodded, sniffling miserably, and I hoped she understood what I was saying. I couldn’t see how this poor kid could possibly be deserving of a death sentence. Hell, she ought to be considered not guilty by reason of mental defect (said defect being teenage hormones).

Lex put a hand on my shoulder, and I turned toward him. “There’s somethin’ she’s not tellin’ you.” I frowned at him, curious, and watched as he studied the girl. “A severe allergic reaction isn’t enough to get her tossed in next to the likes of that shifter.”

“Oh. Good point,” I replied sheepishly. Sure, it seemed pretty severe to me, because for a witch interfering with the free will of another falls into the category of harming someone. Alchemists don’t suffer from those kinds of moral issues though. They’re a mercenary lot, ready to stir a spell for the highest bidder with no questions asked.

“What’s your name?” I asked, focusing on her again.

“Jane.”

Ugh, plain Jane, no wonder she lost out to a Jennifer. “Jane, did something else happen?”

Squirming, she turned away and stared at the opposite wall. “Not to Todd.”

“Okay?” I prompted, waiting for an explanation. Jane refused to elaborate, continuing to stare sullenly at the wall.

“What happened to Jennifer?” Lex asked.

“Her hair fell out.”

That was odd. True, it was the sort of spiteful thing I expected from a teenage girl, but it also wasn’t a very big crime. “Was whatever you gave her supposed to make her hair fall out?”

“No. It was supposed to kill her.”

“Right then,” I said. Guess high school really is tougher these days. Without another word I turned and headed back to the first cell, giving the shapeshifter a wide berth. The imp had returned to staring dejectedly at the floor. “Okay. Tell me what you broke.”

“I broke the metal bird.”

“Metal bird? What metal bird?”

“The big silver one with the red and blue stripes.”

A sinking feeling formed in the pit of my stomach. Oh no. “An airplane?” The imp nodded. “Lord and Lady,” I whispered. “What did you break on the airplane?”

“A big round thing.”

I really hoped it meant a wheel and not an engine. “What happened to the airplane after you broke the big round thing?”

“The round thing started to smoke, big black smoke, and then it went boom!” There was a note of manic glee in the imp’s voice. “And then the metal bird fell out of the sky and there was an even bigger boom!”

A nauseous, lightheaded feeling washed over me as I realized just what the imp was guilty of. The little bastard had brought down a plane-not just a “oh the landing gear failed” kind of thing, but the sort of fiery explosion that the more bloodthirsty cable news networks like to show over and over again. I hoped it was a small plane, but a lot of the big airlines had red and blue in their logos. No matter what size the plane was, the imp’s tampering caused the death of innocent people. With that in mind, the imp’s punishment seemed like a no-brainer, so I didn’t know how it could be considered a test of my abilities. There had to be some sort of catch I was missing-

Lord and Lady. Mac’s plane left that morning.

“When did this happen?” I asked the imp, a spike of fear slicing through me.

“Just now.”

“Like when? This morning? Ten minutes ago?” The imp shrugged its tiny red shoulders. “Where did it crash? Where was it going?”

“I dunno. Somewhere in the human realm.”

Frustrated, I turned and walked over to Cecelia. “What plane was it? When did it leave?”

The faerie woman raised a regal eyebrow. “Will the answer affect your decision?”

“Was it Mac’s plane?” I nearly shouted, at the end of my patience.

She seemed to ponder my question for a long, tense moment, and then she nodded. “Yes, it was.”

It felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room, and I struggled to breathe. My knees wobbled beneath me as I stumbled backward. “Imma be sick.” Turning, I caught a glimpse of Lex’s expression-the color had drained from his face, and his mouth was set in a grim line. My legs threatened to give out and collapse beneath me, but before they did he grabbed me and pulled me into his arms. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against his chest, letting him comfort me as I broke down into hysterical sobs. Lex murmured to me, stroking my hair as I struggled to pull myself together and regain my composure. Eventually I pulled away to dig through my purse for some tissue.

“I’m better now, thanks,” I murmured as Lex released me. “You have any advice here on possible judgments?” My voice was as raw and as weak as my knees had been, and I winced at the sound of it.

“You’re gonna have to put that dog down, it’s worse than rabid,” he replied, and I nodded. “I don’t know what to tell you about the imp, you’re gonna need to decide that for yourself, but I think the kid might be redeemable. Teenagers are brain damaged that way, they do stupid things.”

“Maybe.” I had a pretty good idea of what judgments I was going to hand out, but I had a few questions first. With slow, uneven steps I approached Cecelia.

“Have you decided the fates of these criminals?” she asked.

“I have.”

“Very well. What do you decree for the imp?”

Of course she had to ask about that one first. Great. Well, it was a tough call. Yeah the little terrorist bastard deserved death in a good old-fashioned law of Hammurabi kind of way. But then again imps just don’t realize what sort of havoc they cause when they tamper with machinery on the scale of an airplane, because they’re not exactly problem-solving critters. Most of them stick to the small stuff, but when they escalate to something on this scale there’s really only one thing you can do to stop them. You can either kill them, or you can send them somewhere they can’t cause any more trouble.

If I wanted be a good witch, I’d spare its life by banishing it to the Gray, a realm without warmth, sound, or color, where it would spend eternity tormenting beings that deserved it. It’s Hell, essentially, or at least a version of it. But I’d already proved that I wasn’t a good witch, and right now I wasn’t feeling merciful.

“Death.”

“Done.” Cecelia nodded, and the little bugger gave a piercing shriek of protest and vanished from its cell. I was glad that it vanished. I wasn’t sure I could deal with watching it die. There was a part of me that was afraid I’d enjoy it.

“Your decision for the wolf?”

“I have a question first. Can you cure it? Remove the wild magic from it, I mean. Make it not a shapeshifter.” Strange as it sounded, I couldn’t blame it for “hunting the hunter”, as it put it. If its crimes were all due to its “bad dog” nature, it might be possible to save it. I’d never heard of such a thing, but faeries have incredibly powerful magic.

Cecelia almost seemed surprised, but then again her expressions were so controlled it was hard to tell. “I can, yes. You must promise not to speak of it. I have no desire to deal with other shifters seeking a cure.”

“Okay, you have my word. I want it cured then, and sent to a mental-health facility where it can be treated.”

“Done.”

The intelligent part of my brain warned me not to watch what happened to the shifter, but curiosity got the better of me and I turned toward the cell. I don’t know what I was expecting, probably that it would vanish like the imp had and I wouldn’t get to see the beast sucked out of it. Instead the shifter loosed a piteous howl, the sound echoing around us as the creature crumpled to the ground in an angular heap of furred limbs. I half expected it would dissolve into the form of a naked human like in the movies, but instead there was a whirl of red energy that swirled up and out of it, ending in a bright white flash that blinded me for a moment.

When my eyes adjusted, I spotted a dirty, nude figure curled up on the floor of the cell. It stirred and sat up, and I blinked in surprise as I realized the shifter was female. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman stared back at me-and young too, even younger than me. Someone who should’ve been in college, not tearing guardians limb from limb. She glanced down at her hands and then back up at me, her eyes large and frightened.

“What have you done?” she asked, her voice still rough.

“Saved your life. You’re welcome,” I said, my voice hollow. I didn’t feel particularly excited about it, I just wanted to go home and cry for a few hours.

“But you’ve taken my wolf. I’ll have no pack, no people.”

“You’ll get used to it. I did.”

Without another word she vanished, and I turned back to Cecelia.

“And the alchemist?”

“Well…” That was a bit trickier. I glanced over at her cell and saw Jane staring back at me anxiously. “A year of being barred from Faerie,” I began, and was interrupted by an indignant teenage shriek. Alchemists get many of their ingredients from Faerie, so this would seriously hamper her ability to make potions. Ignoring her, I continued with my decision. “During that time she can spend her extra energy doing community service, preferably in a hospital setting, so she can learn the benefits of healing others instead of interfering with them. Therapy is definitely in order too. Lots of it.”

“Done.”

“That’s not fai-” Jane started, but was cut off as she disappeared. She was probably sent to her room at home, where no doubt another punishment from her parents awaited her.

I raised a weary eyebrow at Cecelia. “Do we get to go home n-”

The floor disappeared from beneath me again and I found myself falling through darkness. Lex and I landed in a clumsy sprawl on my bedroom floor in front of my mirror.

“-ow?” I finished lamely. “Ow.”

“Sorry ’bout that,” Lex said as he tried to untangle himself.

“Hey, they’re back!” I heard an excited voice call from my kitchen. I looked up in time to see Tybalt dash into my room, Portia right behind him.

“Kitty!” the two faeries happily exclaimed in unison. At least someone was having a good day.