I clenched my jaw with concentration.
The light hit Shelob and she rolled backward, legs flailing, then popped up again, unharmed. Behold, my invincible spider of Mordor! Nothing could hurt her—not unless I decided she could be hurt.
Which, uh, maybe I should’ve done.
The darkfae snarled quietly, and the red pinpricks glowing in his shadowy face—his eyes, I was guessing—swung to me. Okay, Plan B.
Shelob dug into the ground like the world’s biggest, leggiest gopher and disappeared. From beneath the churning earth, something new rose: long, bulbous head with bared teeth, three-jointed legs, skeletal body, bony tail, and glistening black skin. A perfect rendition of the Xenomorph opened her terrifying mouth and let out a ghastly shriek.
I couldn’t remember the exact pitch of her shrieks in Alien, but close enough.
The darkfae froze, quite possibly paralyzed by the realization that he wasn’t the ugliest thing ever conceived. His body had grown more solid, with spines jutting from his limbs and his six arms thrashing. The shimmers of green light over him were brightening, and where licks of neon glow touched the earth, the sooty dirt bubbled like molten goo.
The Xenomorph loosed another horrific scream—and the darkfae smiled. Maybe. With that face, it was hard to tell if he was smiling or sneering or just had some bad indigestion.
“You think me fooled, petulant boy-child?” the darkfae hissed, his arrogant laughter gone.
He strode forward, the earth seething in protest under his feet. The Xenomorph leaped at him, but this time, he didn’t evade. The slimy alien passed right through his body like she wasn’t even there. Which, technically …
And now nothing stood between Skully the Douchebag Darkfae and Lienna.
She had the skull in one hand and a marker in the other as she scribbled frantically across the yellowed bone and chanted in Latin. Goulding hovered helplessly beside her, gripping a silver wand—no doubt from Lienna’s satchel—and gawking in terror at the approaching darkfae.
Shit on a stick. Plan C?
I ran forward, stooping to grab one of Blythe’s broken fence posts as I went. With loud pops, two dozen knee-high creatures appeared, huge ears flapping and teeth-laden mouths gaping with squeaky cackles. The gremlins leaped at the advancing fae—and these ones were wet, exposed to bright lights, and glutted on a freaking feast after midnight.
The fae tried to walk through them, but my evil minions weren’t mere visions. When Skully McSkullfae felt their clawed hands on his shadowy legs, he lurched to a stop. Roaring, he swiped at the creatures. His toxic green talons passed through them—but he could feel them scrambling up his body. Sight, sound, touch—all a little too warped for him to figure out what was real and what wasn’t.
With another bellow, he whirled in search for the source of the pests: me.
I was already rushing him, and as he turned, I rammed the fence post into his lizard maw. My gremlins might lack substance, but that three-foot length of splintered wood sure didn’t.
The darkfae flung his head back, two of his six hands tearing the post out of his throat—but I’d forgotten about his other four hands.
Twenty clawed digits seized my arms and lifted me effortlessly. The touch of his earth-melting magic felt about as awesome as I’d imagined it would, and my vision went white with pain. Hot breath reeking of dead things bathed my face, and that gaping mouth opened wide to chomp my head off like I was a life-size gingerbread man.
Two fence posts flew out of nowhere and slammed into the fae’s head from either side.
His hands opened and I dropped to the ground. As I crumpled, Lienna shouted a final Latin command. Behind the fae, she held a lighter to the pink gum sealing the crack in the skull. The gooey substance came alive in a shower of sparks and flame, and orange light swept over the bony surface.
An unearthly shriek tore from the shadowy darkfae and the green glow that had infused his limbs flared a fiery orange. He launched at Lienna, but before he could impale her on his countless claws, he disintegrated into glowing embers and dust.
A haunting howl, like wind slipping through a window crack in a sixties horror flick, rose from the skull. The beast’s ashen remains swirled into a funnel cloud that was sucked into the eye sockets. The bubble gum fire faded and Lienna slumped onto her butt, breathing hard, with the skull balanced on one palm. Its eyes glowed red, but the crack was gone.
“Holy shit,” I wheezed. “You did it.”
“Agent Morris.” Blythe limped into my field of vision. That’s where the final flying logs had come from. Made more sense now. “How badly are you injured?”
I glanced at my arms. My sleeves had melted away and my skin looked like hot dogs that were roasted in a campfire too long.
Goulding hurried over to me, her brows pinched together. “I can help. I have burn treatments and magical residue neutralizers in my bag. Give me a minute.”
As she rushed off, I picked myself up off the ground and pretended I didn’t want to whine pathetically from the throbbing agony in my arms. Asshole fae. Speaking of which …
I shot a nasty look at the skull. “No commentary from the newly resealed peanut gallery?”
Silence.
“Nothing?” I asked, peering harder at the glowing eyes.
Nope. Nothing.
Lienna handed the skull to Blythe. “I think my seal is stronger than the original one. The fae can’t speak anymore.”
Blythe glowered into those red eyes as though she could pry answers out of it with sheer force of will. Considering what else she could do with sheer force of will, I wouldn’t be surprised if she succeeded.
Lienna leaned toward me and asked softly, “You okay, Kit?”
I forced a smile, like a proper wounded hero. “I’ll be fine.”
“Well,” Blythe barked, sounding remarkably normal despite the way she was listing to one side. I wasn’t the only one in need of healing. “Where are we at?”
“Whoever owned this farm buried a case of dark artifacts in their alchemy garden,” Lienna said promptly. “They were from a mixture of magic classes, including Spiritalis, which suggests the owner is a collector of some kind.”
“The woman who died on the front steps wasn’t the owner,” I added. “And whoever killed her did everything they could to destroy this place as viciously as possible, probably as a big ol’ FU slap to the farm’s real owner.”
Lienna and Blythe stared at me. What? Hadn’t they figured that out yet?
“I thought we had one dark arts master on the loose,” Blythe growled. “Not two.”
“Two highly dangerous rogues who are at war with each other.” Lienna stared at the scorched valley, the beads in her long hair clinking from the cold wind. “With magic that can inflict damage like this …”
“We need to uncover what really happened.” Blythe looked between us. “Agent Shen, Agent Morris, this is your case now. Find out who owns this farm, where they are, and who killed the woman. Find out everything—and report directly to me. Involve no one else.”
Lienna’s eyes widened a fraction, and I suspected we were wondering the same thing. Why did Blythe want us to keep this investigation quiet? Was she hiding something from the MPD or worried someone in the MPD was hiding things from her?