AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Seven
The thing to remember about dubba-trolls is that they're big, stupid, and their hide is pretty much the consistency of magically enhanced leather armor. Bullets bounce off, daggers have to be magical or silver to pierce them, and swords better be serrated, or they don't stand a chance in hell of slicing through that nasty, stinking flesh. But a good hammer or mace, now one of those babies can make a dent, especially on the head. And dubba-trolls are susceptible to fire magic. Ergo, while my magic was bound to the moon and weather, I could call in lightning which, in its own way, was akin to flame.
We asked Feddrah-Dahns to stay home with Iris and Maggie—the logistics of getting him in and out of Chase's SUV were difficult at best, as we'd already found out—and Smoky, Chase, Trillian, Delilah, Menolly, and I headed out. Chase took his SUV; Delilah took her Jeep. For once, Smoky rode with her and didn't make a scene. Trillian and I jumped in Menolly's Jag.
On the way, we discussed various ideas on how to dispatch the trolls with the least amount of collateral damage.
"I wish to hell I had a couple of Roz's fire bombs," I said.
Rozurial, an incubus, had helped us track and destroy my sister's sire. The man, or minor demon to be precise, was a walking arsenal, complete with everything from a miniature Uzi to silver chains to garlic bombs for disabling vampires, all hiding in the folds of his duster, which he was fond of yanking open like some weapons-crazy flasher. He was a menace to anything alive. Or dead.
"Fuck the fire bombs. I just wish we had Roz with us," Menolly said. "But he's caught up with Queen Asteria at the moment. I talked to him via the Whispering Mirror the other night. He told me that he's on some mission for her right now and can't get over Earthside for a week or two."
"What park are these trolls supposed to be in?" Riding shotgun, I stared through the window. It was a Tuesday night, going on eight P.M., and traffic had thinned enough to be called sparse. Seattle did have its nightlife, but the parties and gatherings were found in the clubs rather than out on the streets. New York City we weren't, and I was grateful for that.
"They're near the Salish Ranch Park, somewhere between the cemetery and the arboretum."
The Salish Ranch Park was located on the boundary between the Belles-Faire district and Seattle proper. It buttressed up against the Wedgewood Cemetery. The two were separated by a side street. Menolly made a sharp left off of Aurora Boulevard onto Borneo, which would take us to the park.
"Great, just what we need. Cemeteries aren't exactly the most delightful place to wander around," I said. "I wonder if they're there, scaring up dates. Maybe they have a few ghoul friends hanging around?"
Trillian snorted. "Bad, bad, bad woman." He reached over the seat and traced one finger along my neck. I shuddered.
"Don't start what you can't finish," I warned him.
"Oh, we'll finish it all right… but later."
"Get a room," Menolly said, but she grinned at me, the tips of her fangs exposed. I wondered if our play had stirred her up a bit.
"Yeah, well, I wish I knew where Morio was. He was supposed to drop by tonight, and he's never late. I hope he's okay." Together, Morio and I were proving to be a far greater force than I was by myself. My Moon magic could be devastating, or I could lay one hell of a dodo egg with it. But Morio… he was teaching me something else, altogether.
He'd been teaching me the death magic he'd learned at his grandfather's knee, and it seemed I had a knack for it. Maybe because it wasn't Fae magic, or maybe I just had a bent for the deadly, but whatever the case, I was proving adept so far. And when we joined forces, we packed quite a punch, although sometimes I wondered how working within the Shadowlands of the astral would affect me on a long-term basis. With what we were facing, though, I pushed those thoughts to the side. If the magic didn't kill me, Shadow Wing's cronies probably would. I'd take death by magic over death by demon any day.
"He probably just got stuck in traffic. Iris will tell him where we are when he arrives at the house." Trillian let out a loud sigh. "At least you have magic. About the only thing I can try on them is charm, and you can bet I'm not about to kiss their ugly mugs in order to subdue them."
"You're a lot better in a fistfight than me."
He snorted. "Right. Like my fist—or my sword—is likely to do any more than give them a nasty scratch. And I don't do blunt instruments, unfortunately."
"You have a point." I glanced out the window as Menolly turned left onto Fireweed, the street that divided the park from the cemetery.
The fifty-acre park's main attraction was an incredible arboretum. A huge series of glass buildings stretching across at least an acre of land were filled with rare flowers and cacti and delicate ferns, all kept within temperatures designed for them to flourish. Morio and I had strolled through the conservatory more than once, whiling away the evening hours.
My phone rang, and I answered. Delilah was on the other line. "Camille? Shamas just called Chase. The trolls are definitely in the cemetery."
"We're almost there. Give us five minutes," I said, hanging up. "Trolls are in the cemetery. Shamas is there, so at least we've got one other mage on hand."
"If anybody can knock a troll on his butt, it's Shamas," Menolly said. "I'd still like to know how he grew so powerful. He never studied much magic when he was a child, but he might as well sign up for duty as an arsonist by proxy."
As the park came into view on our left, I thanked the gods the trolls hadn't discovered the arboretum yet. I could just imagine them crashing through the glass-plated greenhouses. The resulting destruction would be heart wrenching.
"We've got to stop them before they get anywhere near the conservatory," I said. "Before they cross the divide into the park."
Menolly pulled into one of the parking spaces. "We'll go on foot from here."
We tumbled out of the car and took off at a run. The night was chilly, and I was glad I'd stopped to grab my capelet. Menolly ran on ahead, clad in tight, skinny jeans, high-heeled boots, and a turtleneck. But she wouldn't have noticed the cold even if she ran buck naked through the street at midnight. Trillian wore black pants, a silver crew neck sweater, his scabbard and short sword, and over it all he'd tossed a midcalf duster to act as both heat source and to hide his weapon from any unwelcome authorities who might object.
The cemetery came into view as we crossed the rise leading to the gates. Lit by an updated version of old-fashioned lampposts, the winding dirt paths that led through the maze of tombstones and markers were compacted, with a light cobblestone overlay. The cobblestones were slick, but the dirt acted as grout, keeping them from being too dangerous.
