A Stroke Of Midnight

Blood flew from around the skillet, a bright surprised scarlet spray. He collapsed to his side, moaning softly. His nose looked like a squashed tomato, and there was so much blood it was hard to tell what other damage I’d done to his face.

There was a thick silence in the room. I think I surprised everybody, including myself.

Rhys shook his head, squatting down by the fallen man. “You really don’t like him, do you?”

“No,” I said, and realized that the thought of letting Onilwyn touch me was repulsive. He’d been one of my main tormentors when I was a child. I still hated Cel and some of his cronies enough to feel nothing but a sense of utter satisfaction at the ruin of Onilwyn’s face. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t heal.

The little terrier he had kicked came up to him growling. She sniffed his blood, then sneezed sharply as if he smelled bitter. She turned her back on him, and dug her feet into the floor, throwing blood into the air, a dominant, defiant gesture.

The dog went back to her mistress and the two other dogs so the three of them sat in a smiling, butt-wriggling row at Maggie’s feet. Maggie May was gri

I nodded, and handed the bloodied skillet to her. “Yes, yes, I am.” I smiled at her and she laughed, a great roar of laughter. She wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tight. It surprised me for a heartbeat, but then I hugged her back just as tight. Here was someone else who wasn’t touching me to gain anything. She hugged me because, just because. Hugs for no reason, just because were nice, and lately I wasn’t getting enough of them.

CHAPTER 10

A HIGH, RINGING SOUND CAME. WE ALL LOOKED AROUND THE room, but there was nothing to account for the sound. It came again. It was as if the finest crystal goblet were being struck with metal, so that it made that high, ringing, bell-like tone only the best crystal makes.

Rhys was unsheathing his short sword. “I left Crystall in charge outside with the police.” He held the naked blade up before his face. “You rang?”

Crystall’s face appeared dim and pale in the blade. “Rhys, I am unsure how to proceed.”

“What’s wrong?” Rhys asked.

“I think that we need someone here who is more conversant with modern police and modern politics.”

Rhys shook his head. “I didn’t ask what you needed. I asked what’s wrong.”

“As far as I can ascertain, the humans are arguing about who is in charge.”

“In charge of what?”

“Everything,” Crystall said. “They seem to have no clear hierarchy. It is like a game of too many princes.”

Rhys sighed. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, Crystall.”

“I am sorry, Rhys, but none of us here spend much time outside the land of faerie.”

“It’s all right. I’ll be there.” Rhys wiped the blade clean with a movement of his hand. He looked at Doyle. “I didn’t think we needed someone more modern with the police; I should have.”

“Do not apologize,” Doyle said. “Simply fix it.”

Rhys gave a bow and went for the door. He walked past me, but it was something on the other side of the room that attracted my attention.

I saw something over Maggie May’s shoulder. Movement. The curtain under the sink, where I’d hidden as a child, fluttered. Something was behind that piece of cloth, something bigger than a small dog.

Adrenaline rushed through me so hard and fast that my fingertips tingled with it. I had assumed that someone had searched the area for the killer. Had I assumed wrong?

I broke the hug with Maggie May with a squeeze, fighting to control my face and body. I wanted to alert Doyle and the others without alerting whoever was hiding.

Doyle was just beside me as if I’d given myself away, by some hesitation or movement. He opened his mouth, but I touched his lips with my fingers. He took the hint. He stood mute before me and did not ask what I’d feared, not out loud. With his dark eyes, he asked, What is wrong? But not out loud.

I glanced, using only my eyes, behind me. I tried for the angle I wanted but wasn’t certain he’d understand.

He knelt by Onilwyn’s moaning form and said, “Why did you leave us, Onilwyn? Why did you come ahead to the witnesses?”

The only answer was a soft, bubbling moan.

Doyle positioned himself so he could see the sink area while he questioned the fallen man.

I fought not to look behind me.

Doyle leaned in close to Onilwyn. “Are you saying a brownie and a half-human princess have struck you such a blow that you are brought low?”

He made no sign that I could see, but Galen called out, “Peasblossom, Mug, come out and talk to us.” He walked around the table, and for a moment I thought the two little fey had been the ones hidden under the sink and I was simply too suspicious.

I turned to see him go to the open cabinets above the sink area. Mug, the pale blue fey that had come to fetch Rhys, and another tiny winged figure were peeking out from among the teacups. It was Mug’s voice, high and twittering like the song of birds made human speech, that answered, “We feared Maggie’d forget us in her anger, Galen Green Knight.”

He was by them now, gazing up at them. “So you hid among the teacups.”

“Unless she was bogart for good, she’d not bust up the good china. No she wouldn’t!” Mug walked carefully out from between the cups and flittered sky blue wings to flutter down to Galen’s shoulder. I remembered Mug now; she’d been a pet once of one sidhe or another. But when her last master had grown tired of her, Maggie had invited her into the kitchen, so she could earn an honest living and not have to cater to the whim of one of the large ones. Large one was an insulting term used by the lesser fey for the sidhe. Mug had come to the kitchen about the time I left faerie. Peasblossom, on the other hand, her I knew.

I called to her, “Peasblossom, there’s no need to hide.”

Frost had moved up on the other side of the sink from Galen, who was chatting away with the tiny blue fairy on his shoulder. She’d cuddled close to his neck, hands as delicate as pale blue petals, stroking along the bareness of his ear. Mug had a real “thing” for sidhe men. I’d never asked, nor wanted to speculate, what pleasure she and her masters had gotten from each other. She was smaller than a Barbie doll and more delicate looking. I did not need the visuals. I was able to look at them and keep an eye on the curtain without staring at it. Galen gave us all a reason to look in that direction.

Frost said, “Come down, little one, so we may question you.”

The tiny face scooted back among the good china, like a mouse ducking back into its hole. Her voice was like the sighing of the wind, a delicate spring breeze that warmed the skin and made you believe that the flowers merely slept under the snow. And were not dead. Her voice brought a smile to my face before I had time to think glamour.

“I don’t remember your voice being so sweet, Peasblossom,” Galen said.

“I’m frightened,” she said, as if that explained it.

Maggie May translated, “When the demi-fey be scared, they use what defense they have.”

“Their glamour,” I said.

“Aye,” she said. She was watching us all with narrowed eyes. She knew something was up.

“Come, little one,” Frost called, and even extended a hand like you’d offer a perch to a bird.

“I fear you, Killing Frost, as I fear the Darkness,” the voice said from among the cups.

“Do you fear me, Peasblossom?” I asked.

Quiet for a moment, or two, then, “No, no, I do not fear you.”

“Then come to me,” I said, and held my hand out to show I preferred a less intimate perch for her.

“You will protect me from the Darkness and the Killing Frost?” she asked.

I fought the urge to smile. It took concentration to fight off that pleasant sound. Touching would make it harder still, but I wanted her away from the sink area. She was a civilian, and if whatever was under the sink fought, I didn’t want any civvies in the line of fire.