Sharon Ashwood - Unchained

The prince crossed to the desk, reading the papers upside down. He understood the problem at a glance. Too many shifts, too few men trying to cover the added burden of interviewing a host of suspects. Something no amount of magic, fey or demon, could solve.

He pulled the door shut behind him, making their conversation private. At the sound, the demon looked up and around the room, suddenly alert.

With a flick of his robes, Miru- kai sat down in the visitor’s chair across from Mac and dropped the spell that hid him from sight.

“Shit!” Mac jumped up, pulling out one of those small firearms the new guards used. Such speed meant years of training. Impressive.

“Relax,” Miru-kai said, sounding calmer than he felt. “I did not come to fight.”

Mac’s dark eyes glinted red. “Then what do you want?”

The prince set a small flask on the desk, the gesture bringing on an unexpected and real sadness. “I need a human to mourn with me.” The words hurt, as if each one took a piece of his flesh.

“What are you mourning for?” Mac’s gun didn’t waver.

“My friend Simeon is dead. His loss feels so profound, it comes as a surprise that every being in the Castle does not know of it.”

They stared at each other long enough that Miru-kai’s neck began to hurt from looking up at the tall demon.

“You ambushed us,” Mac said coldly. “Stewart nearly died. Don’t talk to me about mourning.”

The prince had heard that a guardsman was hurt, but not who it had been. A wrench of regret twisted in his chest. “I simply wanted to get away. I asked my men to make sure you were occupied, and they took that too far. I’m sorry that the young guardsman was hurt. That was far from my intent.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Miru-kai shrugged. “As you like. At least Stewart lives. My men died.”

“Sorry about that. Maybe you shouldn’t have sent them to do your dirty work.”

“Is it dirty work to cover my retreat?”

“It is if you’re in league with a thief.”

“I am a thief.”

“And you have the gall to come back here?”

Miru-kai gave a slight smile. “I am not the thief you want. Coming here is quite safe for me. You’re too curious about what I might say to fire that little gun.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Then blast away, demon.”

Finally, Mac lowered his weapon.

The knot in Miru-kai’s stomach eased. He always preferred a battle of wits to a battle of strength. After all, he was smarter than most people. “Drink with me. Drink in Simeon’s honor.”

Mac sat down, looking pissed off, puzzled, and wary. “I’m sorry for your loss, but why do you need a human?”

“My courtiers are dark fey, like me,” Miru-kai said in a low voice. “Simeon was a mortal. He arrived here with me, as part of my court.”

“So?”

“It is only fitting that another human, or someone who was once human, marks his end.” Miru- kai paused. A question he hadn’t meant to ask elbowed its way out. “He died well, but I don’t understand that. How can you live, knowing your days will run out?”

Mac opened one of the old metal desk drawers and pulled out two glasses and a bottle of Scotch. The light from the desk lamp turned the whiskey to liquid gold. “You just kind of do. It’s not like you have a choice. You don’t think about it.”

Miru-kai shook his head. “It would make so much seem futile.” His own bluntness surprised him. This is not like me. Perhaps grief causes one to behave in strange ways.

Mac shrugged. “I have a demon’s life span now, but not much has changed. I work. I kiss my girl at the end of the day. I watch the game. It’s all about quality of experience, not quantity.”

Miru-kai sighed. “We—the prisoners here—longed so much for release from eternal darkness. Ironic. As nature returns to the Castle, so does death.”

Mac blinked. “Is that what happened to your mortal friend?”

“Yes.” He suddenly felt exposed. He waved at the Scotch bottle. “You brought out your own supply. Do you think I intend to poison you?”

“Let’s just say I’m happy to share.” The demon unscrewed the cap from his bottle and poured a small measure into each glass. “So what were you looking for in the guardsmen’s vault?”

Miru-kai flinched. That tone of interrogation again. The demon had been a human policeman, just like the ones shown on that television program Law & Order. “Ah, yes, the vault. I had hoped the chamber of the guardsmen held a cure for my friend, but it did not. Now he is dead.”

“You could have asked for help. We’d have tried.”

“In the end, there was nothing in the vault that helped me. And nothing you would have permitted me to take.”

“And someone just happened to steal Reynard’s soul?”

“I did not take Reynard’s urn. If I had, my friend would still live.”

Mac said nothing, but it was a loud silence.

The prince sniffed the Scotch. “This is better than what I brought.”

Mac set the bottle down. “Help yourself.”

“You must know the fey appreciate good manners.”

“If I get you drunk, maybe you’ll tell me what’s on your mind.”

Miru-kai tasted the Scotch. It touched his tongue like fire, whispering of wild places, starlit nights, music he could almost hear. Food was different for the fey; it affected all the senses.

He set the glass back on the desk, wanting to make the drink last. “What I have to say is plain enough. I know you assume I am your enemy, but I am not. War does not serve the interests of the dark fey.”

Mac raised an eyebrow. “You surprise me. I never took you for a peacemaker.”

“Don’t get me wrong, demon. We are opportunists. We survive by stealing the choice cow or the best ale—but without cattle or a keg in sight, we starve. Prosperity is in our best interest. You look like you might offer that.”

Mac took a sip of his Scotch. “Then you’re on my side?”

“Surviving in this Castle is like playing a dozen chess games at once. I’ve spent centuries ensuring there was no true winner.”

“Why not?”

The prince smiled. “Whom among the warlords would you choose to rule?”

Thoughts chased across Mac’s face. “Good point. Are you going to see to it that I lose, too?”

“You offer a novel outcome: peace and integration with the outside world. That interests me. After this long, anything that piques my interest is worth a great deal.” Miru-kai took another taste of the Scotch.

“How long have you been here?”

“When I arrived, Jerusalem had just been taken by the Christians.”

“That was what, around nine hundred years ago?”

“Perhaps?” Miru-kai felt a strange sensation. Wonderment. Fear. Most of all, a need to burst out of this prison. As it came back to life, he grew more restless. Besides, there was no reason to stay anymore. The pattern had changed. He’d just buried his emotional ties to the place. “Simeon was with me the whole time.”

“How does a mortal get to be part of a dark fey’s court?” Mac asked.

“He was a poor knight. My father invited him to join our court in exchange for teaching me the ways of the sword. My father failed to mention that there was no release from his vow. If he set foot on his own land, he would turn to dust, because a hundred years had passed without anyone realizing it. So Simeon stayed on. For all that time, he was a steadfast friend and my second father.”

Mac was sitting back in his chair, watching him, catching every nuance. “Did you do that a lot? Take mortals?”

Miru-kai tolerated the questions, hoping to trade information for a spoonful of trust. “We need humans around us. They provide much that we lack. Humans, especially their children, love more easily.”