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The streetlights shaded the street with a yellowish light, which highlighted the rain as it slashed down. Swirls of smoke rose from brick chimneys as we drove down the street. The wind caught them up, whipping them round and round before being absorbed into the darkened night.
I loved this time of year. Autumn, with its burnished leaves and whistling winds and incessant rains. It was my time—and Camille’s and Delilah’s, too. The time of the vampire and the witch, of the werecat. It was the time of ghosts and spirits and our goblin menaces—all sorts of bogies in the night.
Camille made a left turn, easing into the parking lot in the Rosecross MiniMall. There was a supermarket here—a QFC—and Bartells, a drugstore. A pizza joint, a Pad Thai noodle place, a small bakery—Seattle Supe Cupcakes—a dry cleaners, a yoga studio, a satellite branch of the King County Library System, and—of course—Starbucks.
As we dashed out of the car and into the coffeehouse, trying to dodge the stinging drops that splattered hard and heavy against us, I glanced up at the sky. Once again, the roiling cloud cover made me think of Elqaneve. While I hadn’t been out in the storm proper, Delilah and Camille had described it so vividly that I could all too easily imagine what it had been like. Hell on Otherworld.
Once inside, Camille glanced around, then headed toward a table near the restrooms. A pale, tall Fae sat there. His hair was the color of spun platinum, and his eyes frosty blue—almost mirroring my own.
He stood, clicking his heels and giving us a short bow. “Thank you for coming.” His accent was thick—Germanic to a degree, but more exotic, with a hint of the ancient woods lingering in his voice.
Camille got herself one of her mega-lattes, and Kitten bought hot chocolate. Trillian opted for a cup of tea. As we gathered round the table, the Black Forest Fae sat back, toying with his coffee cup. His hair was a mop of unruly curls, cut short, but it was his eyes that entranced me. Alpine pools in the winter. That was what they reminded me of. Ancient and frosty and veiled. I wondered how old he was.
The Earthside Fae were from the same stock we were, but they had evolved in a different way. They’d had to live in a world filled with FBHs, and an evolving world of technology where they were long thought a myth. Now they were emerging into the light, along with the rest of the Supes, and I had a dread feeling that there would be a backlash as they tried to reclaim their lands and the humans fought back.
“Not to slide past niceties, but you said you’ve had a vision of Violet?” Camille leaned forward. “We want to save her—to find her. So give us what you have.”
He toyed with a piece of lemon pound cake. “I was performing a ritual that… I told you we are bound through a ritual, did I not?”
Camille nodded. She motioned to Trillian. “This is Trillian, one of my husbands. He and I went through the Eleshinar ritual many years ago. It bound us together like that. And all my husbands and I are soul-bound. I understand what you are talking about.”
Tanne studied the pair, then gave them a faint smile. “I can see the tattoos layered under your skin. I see the connections in your magical signatures. I have that gift. So yes, you know of what I speak. I was deep in a ritual to search for Violet’s signature and I finally caught a trace of it. I followed it—sending my spirit out—and what I saw was a dark labyrinth of tunnels. Bricks and broken boards lining them and faded writing on signs.”
I perked up. “That sounds a lot like Underground Seattle.” We’d had a number of run-ins down there. The labyrinth of underground tunnels had been created during the great fire in Seattle, when the entire area that had gone up in flames was raised up. The storefronts and shops that had once stood aboveground now lurked below the city, a testament to a forgotten time. But over the years, creatures had built new tunnels, and forged homes in the old ones, and now there was a thriving but dangerous community that utilized the underground in all too many nefarious ways.
“I traced her energy through a coiling path, until I arrived at a brick wall that covered the walkway. There were two sconces to the side, and her signature stopped there. The sconces were all a pale glow. And as I watched, a man in a suit appeared.”
“Human?” Camille took a long sip of her iced latte.
“I think so. His signature reads as human. He reached up and pressed a knob on one of the sconces and a secret door opened. I followed him through, and the passage led to another door, then things got misty, then I found myself in a hallway running through a long line of cells. Violet was in one of them, crouching. She looked…” He stopped, his voice growing harsh. “She was bruised, and covered in filth.”
I stared at the table, a slow boil beginning to rise. I glanced up to see Camille staring at me with the same look in her eyes. We’d both been there, we’d both been the victims of freakshow pervs before. Maybe we hadn’t been captured to sell off as slaves, but we’d been kidnapped, used, and abused. There really wasn’t much difference. Whether the psycho was out to make money on us, or out to just hurt us, the end result was pretty much the same thing. Slavery and abuse.
“There’s a lot of the underground to go through.” Camille turned to Delilah. “Any way to narrow it down?”
“You said you saw signs, Tanne. Do you remember what they said?”
He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and his breath trickled out in a slow stream. “Let me think. I see the sign—it’s to the right, broken and off to the side. The words were painted in white, with a faint drop-shadow of red. I glanced at it and the sign read… the sign read… yes! The sign reads PETE’S BARBERSHOP. And there’s a red-and-white barber’s pole painted beside it!” His eyes flew open and he sat up straight. “That was it—Pete’s Barbershop! There has to be a way we can find out where that sign is located without searching every inch of those tunnels.”
“I don’t doubt there is.” Delilah pulled out her laptop and flipped it open, typing quickly as soon as the screen booted up. As she began to search, Trillian pushed back his chair.
“Anybody want any more coffee?”
“I’ll take a cookie, if they have any.” Camille held up her latte. “Still good here.”
Delilah mumbled something about a brownie, and Tanne gratefully held up his cup. “Refill, please. Cream, no sugar.”
As Trillian headed up to the counter, I glanced around the shop. Even this late, it was buzzing. It occurred to me that, without caffeine, the entire greater Seattle metropolitan area would shut down and die an unruly death. Both Seattle proper, as well as the Eastside—just across Lake Washington, where Microsoft and Google roamed free in the sprawl of back-to-back cities.
Camille excused herself and went to the restroom while we waited. Delilah was nose-deep into her computer and Trillian hadn’t returned, so I leaned over to Tanne.
“What’s the Black Forest like?”
He gave me a long, quiet look, but it was friendly, if reserved. “Your forests here—they are old and wild and tangled, and filled with fern and bracken. The Black Forest is different. We have fir, like you do, in the highlands, but there are vast swaths of beech and oak, and we have wide meadows that open out to catch the sun. The history of my area is rich—but most of it is human history—where here, the mountains grew untouched by most human mythology. Civilization is still new to the lands here, while across the ocean, it was established when there were no inklings that North America even existed.”
“I think… I think I prefer it the way it is here, but I see how the cultural heritage over there might be a nice thing to have.”
“Ah, but it is not my cultural heritage—it belongs to the humans.” Tanne smiled again, and once more I was struck by the fact that though he looked very much like any handsome man on the street, his Fae blood crept out to tinge everything he said and did.
