“Why would I want to?” Duncan asked, lifting his shoulders in what would have been a harmless shrug if not for the shadow wings, which flexed out with a series of cracks that sounded like a dozen pistols firing. A nephilim equivalent of cracking his knuckles, I supposed. “Without them, you won’t be able to become the hallow door.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, with more bravado than I felt. I didn’t like that he knew about the hallow door.
His face was suddenly inches from mine, his wings spread out above us, their barbs making a sound on the ceiling like fingernails on a chalkboard.
“You know, now that I think of it, no. I’m not sure. You have grown more powerful than I thought possible. I was hoping that you would eventually see reason and leave your little fairy friends behind to come over to our side. You would make a delightful companion.”
He touched my chin with one steel-tipped claw. I’d seen what those claws did to Bill’s throat. I searched my mind for a spell that would protect me, but my head was a jumble of confused images. The homesickness spell had weakened me, I thought, but then even that idea twisted in on itself. Home is what makes you sick. No, that wasn’t right. Good thing you don’t have a home. The voice seared through my brain with the precision of a scalpel dissecting a frog. I could feel it neatly probing the tender tissue, scraping at all my hopes and fears.
You’ve sent them all home, Callie, but you don’t have a home to go to. Do you think your incubus boyfriend is waiting for you in Faerie? Before killing him, I took a little trip through his soul, and you know what? It was empty. No soul. Nothing but lust. That’s what you coupled with. A rutting bull.
Images of a horned creature—half man, half bull—flitted through my head. In each of my memories of making love with Liam and Bill, I now saw the hideous bullheaded monster pumping away at me.
Is that what you’re going to Faerie to find, Callie? All your high-minded talk of freeing your friends and finding some mythical trinket to kill me is no better than the fairy tales you tell your students. They’re all lies. You want to go to Faerie so you can fuck your incubus boyfriend for all eternity. But you know why no one wants to stay in Faerie? Because after a while there, the glamour falls away and you see how things really are.
An image of Faerie appeared in my mind: the flower-studded meadows sloping down to a crystal-blue lake, a sky of melting purple and rose, my friends—Liz and Diana; Casper and his partner, Oliver; the beautiful Fairy Queen, Fiona, and her king, Fionn. But as I looked at them, they began to change. Sores erupted on their faces, their skin fell from their bones, horns sprang from their foreheads, crooked fangs protruded from their gaping, drooling mouths. They lurched toward me like zombies in a horror movie.
I turned to run from them and ran straight into William Duffy. “Come,” he said, holding out his hand to me. I took his hand and we ran down the sloping meadows into the Greenwood, his strong grip giving wings to my feet. If I tripped over a root, he righted me. When I grew tired, he gave me strength. I risked a look over my shoulder and saw that we had left the monsters far behind. We slowed to a walk, William still holding my hand. We had come to the glade and the ruins of the hallow door. William led me into the green circle, to the bed of emerald moss where we had made love. He stopped and turned around …
Revealing a monster’s face of decayed flesh and bone.
“What did you expect, Cailleach,” he said, through rotting lips. “You kept me waiting hundreds of years.”
I shrieked …
… and heard myself screaming in my office. Duncan had pushed me against the window frame, the sill pressing against the small of my back.
That’s what awaits you on the other side of the hallow door. Wouldn’t it be better to just end it right now, right here? All you have to do is let go.
His claws tapped my hands, which were gripping the window frame. I didn’t remember putting them there. Duncan’s breath was hot in my face. I could feel the cool air on my back, beckoning me … home. All I had to do was let go …
“Let her go.”
I thought the voice was inside my head. It was angrier than the other voices in my head but just as urgent.
“Let—her—go!” it said again, each word sharp as a pistol shot. Frank’s voice. It shattered into the mental space Duncan had carved into my brain. I could feel him recoiling, drawing out of my head. His claws, though, were still digging into my hands.
“I said—”
Duncan retracted his claws so quickly, I nearly fell through the open window. He whirled away from me, his wings slapping my face. I leaned away as far as I could, but the barbs still scraped across my face, drawing blood. The pain felt almost good, though, now that he was out of my head. I braced myself against the window and planted my feet against his back—and pushed.
Unprepared for a rear assault, Duncan stumbled. Frank lunged forward and swung something into his face. I heard a dull thud and the crunch of bone. Blue sparks flew into the air. I looked up from the crumpled wings and cringing form of the nephilim to Frank … only it couldn’t be Frank. This man was a good six inches taller and glowed. He held a long, bright object that emitted the blue sparks. Where had Frank gotten a sword? And since when did Frank wear mailed armor? As my eyes adjusted to the glow, I saw that the armor was only an illusion and the object in his hand wasn’t a sword at all.
“A baseball bat?” Duncan roared. “You think you can take me down with a baseball bat?”
“Not just any baseball bat,” Frank replied smugly. “Bucky Dent’s bat. The one he used to hit the three-run home run that beat the Red Sox in ’78. Imbued with the faith and devotion of baseball fans everywhere. You touch McFay again and you will feel the wrath of Bucky ‘Fucking’ Dent!”
Duncan snickered and spread his wings over Frank. I heard a scream—and then smelled something burning. Something that smelled like feathers.
Duncan retracted his wings, their tips singed. Frank was still standing, holding the bat, but his face was pale as death. Duncan drew himself up and folded his wings close to his body, then swept past Frank. In the doorway, he turned to look back at me.
“By the time I’m done, you’ll wish you’d gone home with your students,” he said. “And, remember, after you’re gone, they’ll come back. But you won’t be here to protect them.”
As soon as Duncan left, Frank dropped the bat. Bands of raw red flesh striped his hand.
“Jesus, Frank,” I cried, running to him. “What happened to your hand?”
“When I heard you scream, I ensorcelled the bat before I could protect my hand.”
Ensorcelled? I wondered, staring at his hand’s burned flesh. “Well, that was stupid!”
“You’re welcome, McFay. Next time I hear you screaming bloody murder, I’ll …”
Whatever inane activity he was going to suggest would have to be left to my imagination, as Frank’s eyes rolled back in his head and his whole body went limp. I grabbed him in time to break his fall, but I was also weak from the encounter with Duncan. We both ended up on the floor in an ungainly heap, which was how Soheila found us.
“Oh,” she said, standing in the doorway, looking embarrassed. “I thought I heard a ruckus.”
“You did,” I said, untangling my legs from Frank’s. “Duncan Laird attacked me, and Frank came to my rescue with an ensorcelled baseball bat. He burned his hand.”
I turned over Frank’s hand to show her and he instantly came to consciousness, screaming in pain at my touch.
“I’ve got rose water and aloe in my office. I’ll be right back.”