Homelands Pt. 12

Then, for a brief instant, he almost convinced himself that he ought not cleave the fucker in twain. Hadn't he himself started to wonder what his brother was becoming? Whether he could take Nick back home, should the opportunity ever present itself? But that was bullshit. Whatever had passed between them; however much he might have started to remind Eric of their father, or at least someone he'd ever again let his mother or Patty or any of his children within a hundred yards of unsupervised, the guy had still been his brother. And that meant that Mister Frank of House Will-Never-Win had no fucking right to pass judgment on him.

To kill him. Which he basically had, so far as Eric was concerned.

His brother was dead. More or less at the hands of their nominal ally. A man they'd braved the cold of Winter to find, for whatever stupid ass reason. Worse, the dick had lied to Eric only to then spontaneously come clean once Daphne's bitch and her runt were gone. Like he knew Eric would be upset but figured he wouldn't take it out on him. Because, what, they were best buds or something? FUCK. THAT.

His great sword didn't even slip out of the little pocket universe he kept it in until he was halfway through his swing. That felt strange, but it was worth it, because Frank had no idea what was happening until it was too late to get himself out of the way.

Unfortunately, he had incredible reflexes. The sword cut straight through his arm halfway between elbow and wrist. Which was good, but it should have split him in two. Worse, Frank was halfway through his transformation by that point. Not only did his thick and furry limb slow the blade down, but the enchanted, ultra-strong yet featherweight steel came to a complete stop after sinking a few inches into his hide. Despite all the energy, physical and otherwise, that Eric had put into the blow. Despite the fact that he'd just about convinced himself, not long ago, that he could slay a dragon with such a swing, if need be.

Which he really could. He'd just lost some of his confidence because the whole Winter mission was such a massive fuck-up. He and his blade were one, though. And even if he wasn't as powerful as former Autumnal monarch, he sure as hell wasn't weak.

The blue nimbus surrounding the blade intensified. Eric felt energy gush out of his Libido. His shoulders burned and his forearms ached, but he pushed and pushed, driving the steel up and in, towards the wolf-beast's intestines.

Frank screamed in pain, grabbed the blade with his remaining hand, and tried to wrench himself free. When that didn't work, he slashed at Eric. He missed, of course, but the lazy blow succeeded in driving his attacker back. The next thing Eric knew, his blade hung free in the open air and a grievously wounded Frank was snarling at him from the other end of the cave while hurriedly growing his arm back.

Shit. It only took him a few moments to do that.

Once upon a time, Nick had lost his legs. It had taken him a helluva lot longer than that to recover, and he'd done so under the loving care of his grandmother, the legendary Flori Hardt. A forearm was not half one's body, but still. The asshole was apparently even more powerful than Eric had realized. Maybe even on par with Hank.

"You had no right," he said, pointing his blade at the wolf. It glowed so bright now he wondered if maybe Daphne could see it from her tower. But he couldn't worry about that at the moment. Just then, he had more immediate problems. And the light seemed to give Frank pause. "How could you let her do that? And then help her escape?"

"Because I want to do the same. And so do you," the wolf growled. "And however ill-gotten her strength might have been, she was the only one who could make that happen."

"You don't know that," Eric said. What was wrong with him? It didn't even matter if he was right! "Plus? Fuck you anyways. Asshole." He spat on the ground and tried not to notice how quickly his saliva froze. Yes, he wanted to leave this place. But at what price?

That was when they both felt the tear in the middle of the cave start to suck in air.

As it began to close.

"I'm going through," Eric said, thoughts of his mother suddenly dancing through his head. Her, and their beautiful children. His sister too, but Gabby most of all. "You're not."

Frank didn't even argue. Just growled.

Eric kept the tip of his sword leveled at his onetime ally, like the point of a gun, as he slowly advanced towards the shrinking hole. "I hope you die here."

"Nice knowing you too."

Strange how he spoke with that muzzle. His speech didn't sound normal. But it came a lot closer than made any sense. Somehow, that only made Eric hate him more.

"If I ever see you again, I'll finish what I started."

"You'd be welcome to try," Frank said, returning to his own body in what Eric took for a taunting show of dominance. Like the bastard didn't even consider Eric enough of a threat to justify the need for teeth and claws.

Of course, he was right to think so. But only because Eric would miss his one and only opportunity to reunite with his family if he didn't get gone right soon.

Was it terrible that his thirst for vengeance had suddenly dissipated? Perhaps a little. But only a little. After all, Nick had done things to Eric that he preferred not to think about. Out of necessity, perhaps, but the guy had still grown all too comfortable manipulating others. Making decisions for them that they alone had any right to make.

Maybe it was best if Summer remembered him as a hero. One who'd died fighting the forces of Winter. Maybe even saving Eric's life.

"I'd just like to remind you, though, that he was going to rape her," Frank said. "After he knocked me out. The guy who was supposed to be watching his back, so that she didn't try anything like that." He sounded so disinterested, like it didn't matter to him if Eric believed him or even stuck around long enough to hear all he had to say. That irritated Eric further. But made his words harder to ignore as well. "I get that you need someone to blame, and she's not here anymore, so that doesn't leave you too many options. And, yes, I let her go. But I did not let her kill your brother. That much, he brought on himself."

He should have replied to that, somehow. But Eric found he had nothing to say. So he bent low and slipped through the hole, leaving Winter behind without any parting words.

*****

Iva felt the membrane close back up as soon as they passed through it. The others somehow didn't, though. Not even Caronwyn, who was hardly weak.

Hardly weak? The woman had brought the freaking dead back to life! She was stronger than Iva's mother had ever been.

Apparently, at some point, Iva had reached a place where she could look at someone like that and still think they were one or two steps below her. And not be wrong. Which was kinda scary. Odd, too, in a way. She could still remember a time when Caronwyn would have awed her. When hearing that the woman had revived not only her daughter, but her sister and her son as well, would have left Iva speechless. Or maybe given her the idea try bringing her mother back the same way.

But no more. On either count.

She wasn't sure whether it was possible to bring back someone who'd been Devoured. But she didn't really care to find out either. More and more, she'd come to realize that Kaitlin was responsible for all that had gone wrong in her life. No, that wasn't quite fair. She herself was responsible. But her mother had been there by her side, pointing her in the wrong direction when she ought to have been talking sense into her. It was because of her mother that she'd come to hate her one positive role model, a man who'd rejected Iva because he'd been told he wasn't good enough for her, not because he didn't consider Iva good enough for him. And who'd told him that? His wife, of course. The same woman who'd convinced Iva to imprison House Orwin, then banish them to their own court. To ally Autumn with Daphne. And make so many other terrible decisions. Some part of her would always love her mother, who for all her failings had also taught Iva to be strong and independent and to believe in herself, but that didn't mean she wanted her back.

Setting all that aside, Iva should have been in awe of the fey beauty and what she'd accomplished. But she wasn't. She liked Caronwyn well enough, and was confident the woman would contribute more to the mission than either of the ones Flori Hardt had sent in her stead. But she didn't affect today's Iva the way she would have a younger version.

Which was...weird. Good, maybe, but also weird.

"So we can't leave?" Jennifer Hardt asked, eying Iva skeptically.

Gabriella shrugged, as if the question had been directed at her. Which seemed to be how things went with those two. Iva had been a bit surprised at first to learn that they'd once been married, but the more private conversations they had like that, saying so much without speaking a word, the more she believed it. "Can we trust her?" the brunette might as well have asked the statuesque blonde. "I don't know," the latter had essentially replied.

And not without reason.

Even Caronwyn, whose trust she'd thought she'd made some real progress towards earning, seemed to be entertaining the possibility that Iva just might be trying to trick them.

Iva sighed. The other women looked like they were about to call an emergency meeting of the G-3 in order to discuss whether to trust her. And she couldn't even blame them, even if their reason for doing so was mistaken. They ought to believe her about there not being a way out. That she was every bit as interested in putting an end to Daphne's reign as they were. But they shouldn't be treating her like their de facto leader. Or even an equal.

In a sane world, she'd still be stuck in the Forgotten Tower, where she couldn't let anyone down. Couldn't fuck things up any more than she already had the day she'd come of age.

"Okay, so can we at least find somewhere to gather our thoughts?" Gabriella asked as a strong wind blew up the mountainside, throwing snow and ice into their faces. Though she'd dressed more or less appropriately-wearing camo utility pants and a matching jacket, combat boots, leather gloves, a green long-sleeved T, and a camo ball cap-she was from Summer. "It's, you know, preeeetty cold out here."

Caronwyn, who wore the same druidic robes she always wore but seemed entirely unaffected by the elements, looked a question at Iva. Who sort of wished she shared the mountaintop with no one else besides the fey woman.

Flori's help, they could definitely use. But Jennifer and Gabriella?

They were more likely to prove a hindrance, she feared. Or worse.

Damn it, if she'd wanted a larger force, one more prone to drawing unwanted attention and staffed with those who had little chance of holding their own against Lady Winter, she'd have picked a few winners from Autumn as well. On the other hand, she couldn't risk offending Summer's Matriarch. Odds were, this was just the beginning of a long, hopeless campaign. And they'd need all the allies they could get.

Even those who couldn't stand the cold.

She drew a deep breath. There was no time to dwell on all the other ways in which the situation was less than ideal. Too many people were depending on them. Time to grow a pair of ovaries and act like the woman she was, rather than the scared teenager she felt like.

At least the woman wasn't questioning her loyalty. At the moment.

A small, one-room cabin formed around them. The air inside was warm and the oak walls would be entirely invisible to anyone on the outside. Maybe even Daphne herself. A fire blazed in the hearth beside Gabriella, who let out a sigh of relief as she stretched her hands in front of it. Jennifer did much the same, though without making as much noise.

"What's the plan?" Caronwyn asked, stepping close.

Iva tried not to notice how good the woman smelled. She might have grown powerful enough to think the Caronwyn something less than her equal, but she still had urges. And the redhead was gorgeous. Shapely too, however much her outfit might hide it. But those were things she'd have to wait until later to worry about. Assuming there even was a later.

Of course, if there was, she'd want to celebrate with her son. As she should. Which was fine. Iva had...well, no one, but whatever. That, too, was besides the point.

"You tell me," Iva said. "I'm not the one who casts talismans."

Caronwyn blushed. "Well. I don't know if it meant-"

"Whatever it means, we've got to find the golden fiddle," Jennifer cut in as she removed her leather gloves. Why the woman had chosen to dress like one of the agents from The Matrix, Iva wasn't quite sure, but it made her look pretty awesome. In a gender-bending way that Iva would ordinarily be totally down with.

On the other hand, it also gave the impression that she saw the whole affair as a chance to indulge in some cosplay. There was a fine line between expressing yourself and not taking things seriously. She hoped the woman was on the right side of that line, but she wasn't sure. Her demeanor was deathly serious, but Iva still had her doubts.

It didn't help that she was so weak. Even setting aside Iva's somewhat warped standards, the raven-haired woman was somewhat less than impressive. Which would be fine, if this was a social gathering. But it wasn't. They were invading Winter, in hopes of rescuing the previous expeditionary force. No place for amateurs, in other words.

"How many can there be anyway?" Jennifer continued.

"Seriously," Gabriella said. "You probably trip over them all the time, and silver flutes and ruby harps and whatnot, in Faerie. But I'm guessing it's a bit different here in Winter."

Iva gave Caronwyn a sympathetic look. Because the ladies of Summer were giving her a hard time unnecessarily. Not because any excuse to look at those full, red lips was a good one. Nope, that had nothing to do with it.

The druidess frowned. "It's not that. I'm sure we'd know it if we saw it, but there's no guarantee it even exists. I mean, the readings have too often been reliable for me to discount them entirely, but they're...it's just complicated," she said with an exasperated sigh. "We don't have time to get into it. Let's just say I'm at least one-third a fraud."

"So two-thirds legit?" Gabriella asked. "I'll take those odds."

"Me too," Iva said, daring to give Caronwyn's hand a squeeze.

"I said at least-" she replied. If she'd noticed Iva's gesture of solidarity, she gave no indication. Which was probably just as well.

"That's not the point," Iva said. No part of her mental energy was being spent worrying about how good she looked in her color-reversed, all white SWAT uniform. Whether it had been a mistake to turn her hair platinum blonde rather than sticking with her usual deep gold. Because she was all business. "We've got nothing else to go on. We either look for that, or we go straight to Daphne and negotiate from a position of weakness."

"Wait, who said anything about negotiating?" Gabriella asked. A combat rifle appeared in her hands. "I say we just put the bitch on ice."

Jennifer threw a sidelong glances at her ex-wife. "You did not just say that."

"Please tell me I'm not the only one taking this seriously," Caronwyn demanded.

Wonderful. So the humorless air she had about her was just part of the costume after all. As Iva had feared. Jennifer's handsome face returned to a neutral, expressionless setting almost as soon as the words left her lips, and her tone hadn't exactly been light-hearted, but Iva still found it less than reassuring.

But they didn't need to get into a contest over who was the most focused .

"Maybe you should tell us more about the talismans," Iva suggested to Caronwyn. "What they told you, and what that might mean. Even if you have to get into all the reasons why you think you're one-third a fraud."

The fey woman regarded her quietly for a time then nodded and pulled her hood back before launching into monologue. It was long and meandering, filled with details even Iva wasn't sure were relevant. But for the most part, it served to get everyone back on the same page. And to give Iva a sense of what the talismans might have been trying to say.

Though she realized it wasn't actually the talismans speaking.

Iva was pretty sure Caronwyn was exactly right to say that the fey were just like other immortals, except that they thought they weren't, which ended up making them different after all. She'd never thought much about it before, but it made sense. Belief was a powerful thing. Even when it wasn't entirely sincere. Caronwyn's powers differed from those of the other women only because she'd played that part for so long that she'd come to think of herself as a druidess. But so what? She still had abilities no one possessed. And the information she'd gathered when performing her ritual, arbitrary though it might be, was legit. Iva was sure of it. Whether the woman herself was or not.

"Tell me again," Iva said, "what sorts of mag-err, glamour-can music perform? Could the instrument be a means of control? Of keeping us all trapped inside Winter?"

Caronwyn fretted at a lower lip as red and ripe as a strawberry. "I guess I'm not explaining it well. Glamour's no different from what you all do. Well, it is, but it isn't."

"And music?" Jennifer asked, a little more patiently than Gabriella would have, but not by much. The way she nudged her sunglasses down the bridge of her beak of a nose with one finger was hella intimidating. Or, would have been, if Iva wasn't so frustrated with the woman's misplaced priorities. "Any limits on that?"

"Music is like...a microphone," Caronwyn said. "Okay, that's a terrible metaphor" She made a sound of disgust which Iva hoped everyone else realized was targeted at herself, not Jennifer. "But the point is, you can use it to magnify anything. Anything." She let that sink in for a moment. "Could it be the key to taking down the dome? Or membrane, or whatever it is? Sure. Or it could help her be in ten places at once, the way we all know she does. Or it could just make really pretty music." She stared at them like they were children, and Iva half-expected her to point out that she'd seen instruments used for that very purpose.

"Does the glamour it magnifies need to have an emotional basis?" Iva asked.

The druidess frowned. "That's a good question, actually," she said. "I think it works best that way, but no, I don't think it has to." She ran a hand through her beautiful red hair. "I don't know. I wish Cahill was here."

Iva winced. She hadn't meant to remind her of the son who was probably enduring some horrible form of torture as they stood around talking. "Okay. So we don't know why it's important, but we've got to assume that it is. Do you think you can locate it?"

"Me?" Caronwyn asked.

"With your talismans?"

Gabriella gave Jennifer a look. If they thought Caronwyn was the one dragging things down, they were sorely mistaken. Iva was tempted to tell them so, but she held her tongue.

"I think they've told me all they're going to."

Iva considered pressing her on it, but decided not to. Her talents were better suited to reading Libidos, but she supposed she could at least give it a try.

Besides, the greatest limits on what she could do were those she chose to accept.

She was a massive fuck-up, who'd let her mother talk her into some truly terrible mistakes. Who'd tried and tried to win the affections of a sister who was only interested in their brother. Iva's real father, though she preferred not to think about that. Who'd very nearly killed the one and only person who'd ever made any attempt to understand who she was really was. Who very appropriately judged the more violent aspects of her personality, but accepted everything else about her at face value, even the parts her sister wouldn't or couldn't.