Poison Fruit

In an effort to get insight from the one person who might, I visited the library and asked the Sphinx for advice, but all she did was stare at me with those odd, luminous brown eyes of hers until I began twitching my tail with discomfort, at which point the Sphinx informed me that she’d already given me all the counsel I needed.

Right. Learn to see with the eyes of the heart. El Corazón again, no more helpful than before.

In a surprising show of support, Amanda Brooks agreed to let Hel’s ragtag army set up a base camp on the old Cavannaugh property, the wedge of undeveloped land adjacent to Little Niflheim that had been in her family for generations. Between the lawsuit and the purchase of Hel’s territory, Dufreyne hadn’t bothered to pursue the acquisition of the Cavannaugh property, no doubt confident that Amanda would be willing to accept a much lower offer once her slice of untrammeled wilderness was overshadowed by a hulking resort complex.

I hoped that was a decision he’d have cause to regret.

If nothing else, the campsite gave us a great vantage point. We set up our operation on a long ridge of dune dotted with cottonwood trees and gnarled jack pines, high above the basin from which Yggdrasil II emerged to pierce the heavens and tower above the landscape. The formidable figure of the hellhound Garm appeared and disappeared as he patrolled the area in a tireless circuit, padding on paws the size of tractor tires. Garm glanced up a few times when Stefan and I first scouted the place, but apparently it was at enough of a remove that the hellhound would tolerate our presence.

Hel’s army was a motley crew. Members of the Outcast arrived on modified dirt bikes and ATVs, armed with assault rifles; members of the Fairfax clan churned across the sand in Jeeps and pickup trucks, armed with hunting rifles and camping gear.

My bogle pal, Skrrzzzt, arrived on foot with half a six-pack of beer, armed with a baseball bat and a deck of playing cards. He got a game of poker going with Gus the ogre and the two trolls, who arrived armed with clubs. Mrs. Browne arrived armed with a broom and a basketful of fresh bread and pastries.

There were a number of hobgoblins who arrived and promptly disguised themselves as shrubs, so I never did get a head count.

There were fairies who came and went on whirring wings, scouting and reporting—Ellie the hellebore fairy, and some of the early spring flower fairies, crocuses and snowdrops and delicate blue hepatica.

The sight of so many members of the eldritch community in one place was wondrous and amazing. It made my heart ache with love and terror, because so many of them looked so goddamn vulnerable.

The campsite wasn’t without its tensions. As the leader of the Outcast, not to mention a six-hundred-year-old knight, Stefan had assumed command of the operation, which didn’t sit well with the Fairfax clan. With less than twenty-four hours before the first day of spring was upon us, those tensions erupted.

“I don’t care how many battles you’ve seen—you can’t tell a man to lay down his gun!” Elijah Fairfax snarled at Stefan. “And you sure as hell can’t tell a wolf pack how to hunt!” Other members of the clan uttered low growls of assent.

Stefan’s eyes glittered. “The only access road across Hel’s territory leads them there.” He pointed to the far side of the vast bowl. “And right now, we don’t know for a surety what kind of army we’re facing. We don’t know whether you’ll be of more use as humans or wolves.”

“He’s right,” Cody said unexpectedly. “If we cache our weapons in the woods behind their lines, we can shift, retrieve them, and flank the enemy.”

Cody’s uncle rounded on him. “You’d take orders from a ghoul over the head of your clan?”

Cody stood his ground, his upper lip curling. “I’ve had a bellyful of your orders, Uncle Elijah,” he said grimly. “But that’s got nothing to do with it. This isn’t a hunt and it’s a hell of a lot bigger than any police action I’ve seen. It’s a goddamn war, and Ludovic understands tactics.”

“To a point. No one has ever seen such a war.” Stefan deferred to me. “Hel’s liaison, ultimately the choice of who commands here is yours.”

God, that was a responsibility I didn’t want. I looked back and forth between Stefan and Cody. “Can the two of you work together?”

Stefan inclined his head to me. “Yes.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Cody reminded me.

That was true. I owed my life to the two of them working together. “Co-commanders, then.” I turned to Elijah Fairfax and the other werewolves. “And we can’t afford any of that hierarchical bullshit. Not now. I don’t care if Cody’s not the head of the clan. He’s right. You’re not hunting deer on the back forty here. Cody’s a trained cop with good instincts, and I want you to follow his orders. Understand?”

Elijah muttered something into his beard.

I laid my hand on dauda-dagr’s hilt. “As Hel’s liaison, I’m asking you a question. Do you understand?”

His eyes flashed green. “Yes.”

I relaxed. “Good.”

“Daise?” Cody cleared his throat. “Speaking of Hel, it would be really helpful if we knew what Little Niflheim’s plans were so we could coordinate with their efforts. Can you find out?”

“I planned to make the same suggestion,” Stefan agreed, glancing toward the basin. “It is difficult to know how we may proceed while the hellhound menaces friend and foe alike.”