Page 51 of Midnight in the Garden of Okay and Meh
“Oooh,” Jim said, giving a low whistle. “Now, that’s an idea.”
“There are only three dragon hunters in existence,” Sally told Aisling. “Assuming that’s what you’re thinking of.”
Aisling smiled. “There may have been three, but now there’s five, and one of the two is in town, and according to what Drake said, he’s chock-full of demonic dark power. That was his shtick before he and his twin were balanced so now they both have dragon and demon powers.”
“Interesting,” Sally said with slightly narrowed eyes as she watched Aisling tapping furiously on her phone. “I hadn’t heard about this, but admittedly, my contact with dragonkin is normally limited to May and her manly thighed Gabriel. Very well, if you have a dragon hunter on tap, I should be able to throw him into the Akasha with Jim once we are finished.”
“Gee, thanks,” the demon said, but I had to admit it looked a lot more cheerful than a few minutes before.
“Two extra fighters should be sufficient, but I cannot stay another day,” I announced, standing up. I made a snap decision not because I wanted to return home so badly, but because of the unsettled feeling I had the more time I spent around the demon Jim. Also, the expression on the prisoner’s face when he’d seen me haunted my memory. It had gone from torment to intense joy to fear and dread and fury unlike anything I’d felt. “So either we do this now, or I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else to free Desislav.”
Silence filled the room. The dragon and the Dark Ones exchanged glances; then Aisling said, “I guess we can rally everyone now for a third try. Er ... Finch ...”
“I’ll get ready and meet you just inside the entrance of the Hour. It shouldn’t take me longer than thirty minutes,” Finch answered, nodding when the other Dark One spoke in an old form of an Eastern European language before ending the video call.
I recognized the language from ... my brain seemed to skitter away from the name I was seeking. I worried for a few minutes about that, but by the time I had my thoughts under control again, the others were preparing to return to the Hour.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll guide you from here rather than going all the way out to Hyde Park,” Reaper Mabel told me twenty-seven minutes later, after she (somewhat wearily) greeted everyone as they were leaving. “We can wait at the antechamber, if you all like.”
“That is agreeable to me,” I told her, then added, “I wish to be taken to the Thirteenth Hour.”
“Your wish is my command,” she answered with a wry twist of her lips, and then the feeling of being turned inside out claimed me as we entered the Hour.
“I’ve got to deal with a potential disaster at work,” Mabel told me, holding up her phone. “If you don’t mind, I’ll go hunker down in the corner and try to put out the fires.”
“I thought you were a dancer?” I asked.
“I am. But that’s my mortal-world job. I also work for ...” Her words trailed off as she gestured vaguely.
I waited for her to finish, but she simply gave me a somewhat lame smile and plopped herself down on a rock, her phone in hand.
I was about to go dip into the water and see if any boggarts were patrolling—which I thought they might do after our two breaches of their lake—but just then a Dark One marched down the stairs and greeted us.
“Hello again. It’s a pleasure to see you both in person. I’m Finch Dante, in case you missed the introductions on the Zoom call. Ah, so this is the infamous Lake of Upside-Down Sinners. I must make notes for Tatiana. She is interested in all sorts of oddities, and this certainly qualifies as one.” The Dark One was suitable bulky and tall enough to reassure me he’d be able to handle himself in a fight, although I noted his sword was not two-handed.
“Thank you for helping,” I said politely, my gaze still on the sword.
“I’m more than happy to do what I can to assist in putting our missing thane back into my Hour,” he responded, then shot me a curious look. “Is there something about me that is bothering you?”
“Yes,” I said, believing in being forthright whenever possible. “Your sword.”
He pulled it from where it hung at his side. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s one-handed. A two-handed sword is usually more effective when beheading boggarts,” I pointed out, drawing from my back my own sword. “This is Mina, light of the night sky. You’ll notice it’s two-handed. All Defenders of the Blood carry such swords.”
“But I am not a Defender of the Blood,” he pointed out, but examined the sword when I held it out for his approval. “That said, it is a lovely sword. Does the name have a meaning?”
“Yes, of course. All swords that bear a name have a reason for such. In this case, it was spelled by Mina, who was ...” I stopped, my memory once again shying away from pulling forth the information I wanted. “She was ... she spelled the blade,” I repeated, troubled by the fact that I couldn’t remember.
“Just so. I’m sure it’s highly effective in your hands, but I am not so lucky as to have more than single-handed swords. This one was my father’s favorite, and I find it works well with me.”
“By the living darkness, I think you’ve killed me,” came a voice from behind Finch. It had an Irish lilt to it, but was decidedly male.
“You’re such a big baby. What’s a little translocation to a deadly dragon hunter?” The woman who spoke trotted down the stairs. She had an odd twisted hairstyle that looked like blobs on the top of her head, but there was a brightness about her that was unfamiliar to me, although I thought she might be some sort of sprite. She stopped when she saw me, and then made a deep bow. “Goodness, a Sovereign. I had no idea that you were the warrior Hunter said needed some help. Now I’m glad I agreed to help him one last time.”
“Fires of Abaddon,” Jim gasped as it literally tumbled down the last few stairs. “The Weaver’s blipping gets worse every time. Are all my toes present?”
“This is Clover,” the dragon named Hunter said by way of an introduction. “She is my esprit.”
