Richelle Mead - Iron Crowned

It was almost February. We weren’t near any major sabbats, when paranormal activity always increased. Sometimes, though, it happened for no reason. It figured now would be one of those times—right while I was in the middle of a war. Or, I realized, it might be happening because of that. My identities as queen and shaman were both well known among many creatures. Maybe they hoped they could get away with more while I was distracted. Half seemed to show up for selfish purposes in our world; the other half hoped to forcibly father Storm King’s heir on me.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s hear the priorities.”

“We need to finish your taxes.”

“That’s not a priority. Keep going.”

“Single woman, stalked by a fetch.”

“That’s serious. I’ll have to get on that one.”

“Tree elemental. In your neighborhood.”

“Yeah, that one’s here for me. He won’t hurt anyone else.”

“Phantom-infested subdivision.”

“On a graveyard?”

“Yup.”

“Schedule it, and make sure the builder’s charged double. Their own stupid fault.”

“Will do. Then you’ve got the usual weirdness. Lights in the sky. Possible UFO.”

“Was that Wil again?”

“Yes.”

“Damn it! Did you tell him it’s just the military?”

“Yes. He also said there’s been some Bigfoot sightings—”

I froze. “Bigfoot? Where?”

“I didn’t get the details. I thought it was his usual craziness. And didn’t you say they don’t live in Arizona?”

“They don’t. Has there been anything weird in the news? Deaths?”

There was a pause, and I heard the rustling of papers. “Two hikers died over in Coronado, near the Rappel Rock trail. The report stated that they fell. Took a couple days to find their bodies. Nasty stuff. Some animals got to them.”

I was up and out of my chair in a flash, making the dishes on the kitchen table rattle. Tim, leafing through a magazine, looked up in alarm.

“Call Wil,” I told her, trying to tug on one of my boots while balancing the phone. “Find out where he heard about these Bigfoot sightings. If it’s not Coronado, give me a call back. If it is, no need to call.” Wil was Jasmine’s half brother, and I avoided speaking to him when I could. One reason was that he always asked me about her. The other was that he was a crazy, paranoid conspiracy theorist. This time, he might be on to something.

Lara was understandably startled. “But you said Bigfoot—”

“It’s not Bigfoot.”

“Don’t forget your other job tonight!”

“I won’t.”

I disconnected and managed to get on the other boot. Tim regarded me warily. “I don’t like it when you get that look.”

“That makes two of us.”

He watched as I went to our hallway closet and produced a little-worn leather coat. “You’re going to Coronado?”

“Yup.”

“High?”

“Yup.”

He sighed and gestured to where we hung our keys near the door. “Take my car. It’ll handle better if you run into snow.”

I slung my satchel over my shoulder and flashed him a grateful smile. He warned me to be careful, but I was already out the door with the keys, heading for his Subaru.

My eyes barely saw the road as I drove toward Coronado State Park. Bigfoot. No, you wouldn’t find Bigfoot out here, not even in the Catalinas. Now, tell me there’d been a sighting in the Pacific Northwest? Or anywhere in Canada? Yeah, it’d be Bigfoot hunting time. But it wouldn’t be a priority. They were generally harmless.

Here? When you got a Bigfoot sighting in Tucson, it was a demon bear. Yeah—I know. It was a ridiculous name, but it got the point across—and really, there was nothing funny about them. They came from the Underworld and were utterly lethal. With their tall and furry appearance, it was easy to understand why the untrained eye would mistake them for popular images of Bigfoot. Demon bears didn’t fuck around either. If only two people were dead, then this one hadn’t been in the area long. We were lucky—even if the hikers weren’t. No rodents or foxes had fed on those bodies.

In Tucson proper, we were enjoying our typically mild winter weather—mid-seventies today, if I had to guess. As I drove higher into the mountains, the temperature dropped rapidly. I soon saw snow on the ground and signs for Mt. Lemmon’s ski resorts. Other signs directed me toward popular hiking and climbing areas—including Rappel Rock. In and of itself, it was a popular area for outdoorsmen. With its proximity to the ski areas, the demon bear’s presence was doubly dangerous this time of year.

I finally reached the trailhead and parked in a gravel lot. Only a couple other cars were there, which was a small blessing. I stepped out of the Subaru, shocked by the blast of cold air that hit me. I was not used to these temperatures. I hadn’t been bred for them. Give me monsters and ghosts? No problem. But cold weather? That was a weakness. I could’ve used magic to adjust the air but needed to conserve my power. Instead, as I stuffed my arsenal into my belt—not comfortable but ready for easy access—I used my magic for a summoning. I spoke the ritual words, and a few moments later, a small implike creature appeared before me. He had pointed ears, smooth night-black skin, and red slits for eyes.

“My mistress calls,” he said in a flat voice, “and I answer, no doubt for some mundane task.”

“We’re going after a demon bear,” I said, moving briskly toward the trail and trying my best to ignore the cold. My jacket wasn’t suited for this weather at all, but it was the best I had.

“A more challenging task than most,” he observed.

I ignored his condescension as I stopped before the sign indicating the various routes and levels of difficulty for these climbs and hikes. Volusian was a cursed spirit I’d subdued and enslaved. His power made him a useful asset—and a risky one. He hated me and spent a good deal of his time planning how to kill me, should I ever lose the control needed to bind him.

I closed my eyes, attempting to become one with the air rather than its victim. The world was silent here, save for the rustling of wind in the pines and chatter of birds and small animals. I spread my senses out, seeking something out of place. My abilities weren’t perfect, but I could often sense a presence not from our world.

“There.” I opened my eyes abruptly and pointed near a trail marked “moderately difficult.” “Do you feel anything?”

Volusian studied the area, using his senses as well. “Yes. But more there.” He pointed not at the trail itself but more toward its left, off into the woods. I grimaced but knew his senses were slightly better than mine.

“Off-roading. Lovely.”

We set out in that direction. Volusian shifted to a more ghostly form that floated along with me, rather than treading through the underbrush like I had to. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle, but it made for slow going. Yet, as I traveled farther and farther, that magical feel increased.

“It will sense you too, mistress,” said Volusian, in a rare show of unsolicited commentary.

I didn’t doubt it. “Will it come after me? Or will it run?”

“Run? No. Hide? Perhaps.” There was a calculated pause. “It won’t try to force itself sexually on you, however. The blood of the shining ones is too alluring. It will simply try to eat you.”

“How reassuring,” I muttered. “I’ll do the banishing. You distract it.”

Soon, I needed no special senses to know we’d reached our goal. The forest had grown deadly silent. No more birds or other signs of life. A strong sense of … wrongness filled the air. The worlds were stacked: human, Otherworld, Underworld. With our proximity, Otherworldly creatures could sometimes move throughout this world without me feeling anything. Something from the Underworld was too foreign. It stuck out.