Chapter 9: Getting a Head

Beth scowled at the water. She was sitting on the shore of the Labyrinth’s circular river, watching it rush past. Her knees were pulled against her chest beneath a powder blue skirt, and she tossed another rock into the cold water. It disappeared with a small splash, and Asterion lifted his head from his position next to her to see what had happened.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t look at the minotaur. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

In truth, it wasn’t. Ever since her return from the faerie realm, she had been playing the episode with the queen on repeat in her head. All she could think about was the giddiness that had overcome her, the rush of excitement that flooded her whole body and caused her to so quickly turn her back on Mike and the house. At that particular moment, she would have given her very soul to stay with the fae, and it bothered her to know that she had been out of control.

She hated being out of control.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Asterion asked, his voice a low rumble.

She had come down to the Labyrinth to drop Quetzalli off so that Ratu could examine the enchantment on the dragon and try to break it. Beth’s plan had been to take her mind off of the faerie queen incident by dallying with the minotaur. However, before they could even get started, all she could think of was the queen’s mocking tone as the nobility pawed at her body. It had been like a cold shower on her libido, and she had ended up just cuddling with the minotaur by the river.

While Asterion was kind, he was a terrible conversationalist. She had explained what had happened, and he had spent several minutes in thought over it with absolutely nothing to add.

“Yeah, I’m good.” She sighed. Mike refused to talk about it with her. He kept telling her it wasn’t her fault, and when she had tried to explain her discomfort at being unable to control herself, he had just nodded and explained it would get better with time. It had been a couple of days since the incident, and now Mike was back with the centaurs over his head wound. Apparently his wound had gotten infected, so she was stuck with bringing the dragon down to the Labyrinth.

Quetzalli.

There was yet another problem with no clear answer. For whatever reason, Quetzalli was now Beth’s eternal shadow, and while the dragon meant no harm, it was very much like babysitting an adult child capable of shorting out anything she touched.

Beth’s phone had been the first victim. A curious peek, a loud zap, and the screen went dark forever. Her computer was spared, but Mike’s was not, and while Tink was ordering what she needed to replace the electrical system, Quetzalli had pointed at the screen in wonder and a series of electrical arcs jumped from her fingers to the laptop, turning it into a paperweight.

After emitting a string of curses that sounded like an entire rap album in fast forward, Tink had dropped everything to make Quetzalli a horn cap. The shiny metal horn the dragon now wore twisted into place and had the appearance of a unicorn’s horn, and she shocked everyone and everything far less frequently now. By then, it was bedtime, and she had crawled onto Beth’s mattress and fallen asleep right away, leaving Beth to sleep on the couch in the living room.

That was when she discovered that Jenny and the fairies liked to stay up late and play tag in the dark.

In the morning, she made sure to make a nice, big pot of coffee before Quetzalli could short that out, too. When the dragon had failed to show for breakfast, Beth went upstairs to discover that Quetzalli had opened all of her drawers and tried on most of her clothes. Even worse, her clothes now stuck to each other, which meant that she would need to run them through the laundry again with copious amounts of fabric softener.

What was going to be a sexual interlude to take her mind off of things was now just a picnic by the river, and Beth sighed when Olivia buzzed up, leaving a trail of sparkling lights behind her.

“They’re all done!” The green fairy announced, and then shot off like a rocket, leaving a floating glitter trail behind her. The fairies seemed to have recovered nicely from their ordeal, and had more energy than ever before.

“Take me back, please,” Beth said, and Asterion rose.

Together, they rolled up the blanket, and she picked up the small basket of snacks to carry it back. It was still a fifteen minute walk back to Ratu’s lair, and when they arrived, Ratu and Quetzalli were in the middle of an animated discussion at one of the tables.

“Oh!” Ratu saw them, and set down her tea. “You’re back already, I figured you would still be busy. Come, sit with us.” A small feast had been laid out, and when Beth sat, she grabbed a few grapes off of a nearby plate. Asterion wandered off to put the blanket away and then stood guard at the edge of the table.

“So what did you learn?” Beth asked.

“Not much.” The naga sipped at her tea. “We actually wrapped up an hour ago but got to talking. Sorry about that, but I assumed you were enjoying your visit.”

“Mmhmm.” Not really, but there was no polite way to say it. “So is the spell reversible?”

“Fascinating thing about faerie magic. How do I put this?” Ratu set her chin on her hand for a couple of seconds in contemplation. “It’s one of the earliest kinds of magic, therefore making it among the most powerful. Not much came before the fae, so we are talking about one of the first languages, in a way.”

“I think I follow, but that doesn’t tell me much.”

“Oh, I’m getting there. It’s interesting actually, because I just spent so much time studying Kisa only a couple of days ago. In her case, she has been changed on a cellular level that grants her properties similar to a cat. Her body no longer knows the difference between being a human or a cat, it just is what it is.”

“Okay?” Beth thought about Kisa. The cat girl had been scarce since her emergence the other day, and she knew nothing about her yet. There had simply been too much going on in the house to make any sort of real effort to even meet with the newcomer.

Quetzalli spoke up. “Humans and dragons are very different. Obviously, the queen was unable to convert me completely, meaning I am still part dragon. Dragons like me are a physical manifestation of magic that is just as old as the fae, which puts my biology on par with the enchantment I have been afflicted with.”

“Meaning?”

“The transformation is temporary.” Ratu set down her tea and moved to sit next to Quetzalli. “I’m sure you’ve already noticed the scale patterns on her body, yes?”

Beth nodded in interest. She had gotten a close peek at them a few times and had been fascinated by how they caught the light. The patches rested on top of Quetzalli’s skin and looked like pieces of scale-mail that had been glued to her.

“Without examining her innards, we already know that a small part of her body is still that of a dragon. The enchantment that transformed her is fighting to keep her in this form, but over time, her cells will feast on that magic and enable her to revert to her previous form.”

“Wow, okay, so ... any idea how long that will take?”

“I did some math.” Ratu held up a sheet of parchment that had been on the table in front of her. “Based on the limited data I have, I predict the spell will likely break itself in a few hundred years.”

“Years?!?” She looked to Quetzalli, and then back. “You’re talking centuries!”

“For creatures like us, a few centuries really isn’t that long,” Quetzalli said with a shrug. “Though inconvenient, I feel like it could be a great learning experience. I am already enjoying the many kinds of meals that Sofia makes, and am very interested in some of those clothes you had in your ... dresser? Is that the right word?”

“Please stay out of my dresser.” Beth had no idea what clothes Quetzalli meant, but didn’t need a repeat of yesterday morning. “We can get you some clothes of your own.”

“Ah, an outing!” Quetzalli slammed her fist on the table in excitement. “Yes, I would love to see more of the human world.”

“No, that’s not what I...” Beth shook her head and held up her hands in defeat. “We’ll talk about shopping later. Seriously, is there anything we can do to speed up the process? She’ll still be a human long after I’m dead, and that just doesn’t seem fair.”

“If there’s a trick to reversing the enchantment, then I am unaware of it.” The naga picked up her tea cup and smiled. “Besides, it will be nice to have someone to talk to over the years.”

“Oh, well, since you two seem to enjoy each other’s company so much, maybe she should stay down here with you?”

“No.” Quetzalli shook her head. “I’m afraid I miss the sky over my head. Besides, Ratu has informed me that my power surges threaten the nature of her work down here.”

The naga smirked over her cup, and Beth threw her a dirty look.

“Indeed. Her electrical discharges have already caused a few issues with some of my experiments. It would be safer for all involved if she were to remain topside.”

You fucking liar. Beth was glad Ratu wasn’t a mind reader. “Okay, well, thanks. So ... are we done here?”

The naga nodded, and Beth and Quetzalli bid her farewell.

Asterion led them to the shortcut out, and they were at the door that led into the house in just under twenty minutes.

Beth waved goodbye to Asterion, and then led Quetzalli into the house. Through the nearby back door, she could see Dana outside messing around with one of her drones again.

“Oh! The dead girl is flying her mechanical device again!” The dragon did a cute little hop in the hallway, the ends of her hair fluttering toward the nearby wall.

Beth stepped past her and opened the back door. “I bet she would love to talk to you about—”

Quetzalli was already out the door, holding up her skirt with one hand to avoid tripping over it. Dana cocked her head to see who was coming, and an almost imperceptible look of dread moved across her features when she saw who it was.

The door slammed behind Beth as she ran to the front of the house. She felt bad dumping Quetzalli on someone else, but needed a break. Spending the morning with Asterion was supposed to have made her feel better, but now she just felt antsy.

At the base of the stairs, she paused briefly to look up. Was Mike back yet? She debated climbing the stairs to check, but decided against it. While she really wanted someone to talk to, there was too much weird tension between them right now, even if most of it was just in her head. She still needed to process some things internally before having a chat with him.

Through the open front windows of the house, she heard someone whistling a tune. When she looked outside, she saw Sulyvahn standing right next to the porch, his hands in the bushes. Curious, she stepped outside for a better look and saw that he was holding a pair of clippers and had a bucket nearby.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Hmm?” He looked up, and then back down at the roses. “Ah, pleased I am to be seeing ye, lass! The centaurs be lettin’ me tend these ‘uns. Roses be simple enough, once ye get the hang of them.”

“You’re ... gardening?” It was odd seeing the dullahan hunched over the foliage, wearing his black leather outfit. It made her think of a goth teen being forced to trim his grandmother’s bushes, which made her smile.

“Aye. Not much opportunity fer it afore now. There’s a reason everyone says to stop and smell them.” He snipped a rose free and held it up. “Fer yon maiden faire.”

“Thank you.” She took the rose and smelled it. The aroma was a subtle perfume that reminded her of the summer, and she felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. “You don’t strike me as someone who likes to garden.”

Sulyvahn grinned. “In a way, t’is not so much different from the job I had before. When ye look at a plant such as this, ye cull out the parts that be dying, or clip the buds to be making room for more.”

“And that’s like ... collecting souls?”

“Aye, that it be.” He knelt over a rose that had snapped and was supported from below by a few others. “The human soul is much like a flower. When e’re ye pass, yer a creature of beauty and light. But if nobody comes to collect, ye spoil and rot.”

“Souls rot?”

“Hmm.” He stood and pondered her question for a bit. “Not in a traditional sense, I’ll grant ye. The human soul be just a collection of memories and emotions, those that ye take with ye when you go. Over time, I suppose some of the memories become stronger than others. Fer some souls, this can mean being trapped, and when it’s time to move on, they refuse.”

“I guess that tracks with just about every paranormal documentary I’ve ever watched.” She smelled the rose again, then leaned against the railing. “Humans have a theory that ghosts who don’t move on can become wrapped up in their own anger.”

“Aye, that isn’t even the half of it.” He gestured toward the house. “That little doll ye have inside is a right proper example.”

“That’s Jenny. She’s mostly harmless.”

“Fer now.” He moved to the next bush and examined the branches. “How should I be sayin’ this now? When yer dearly departed refuses to move beyont, oft time they be gettin’ stuck in a loop. They be drawin’ their energy from this world, very much like a lightning rod. Ye ever walk through a cold spot? Probably a spirit, takin’ just a wee bit o’ yer heat to keep themselves going.

“The angry ones, though, that’s a different matter entirely. They feed on their own hatred fer the livin’, and will be takin’ any opportunity to sap the energy of their own if it means gettin’ ahead.”

“You mean, like, ghosts attacking ghosts?”

“Aye.” He pinched off the head of a stunted bulb. “Much like these flowers, if ye be leaving the head to rot, the whole plant still tries to feed it. Imagine then if these blighted buds in me bucket fed off each other—till one becomes strong enough to attach itself back to the plant. Ye remove the dying buds so that the whole plant may live, after all, so why would ye be wanting to reattach the damn thing?”

“Well, you don’t.”

“Exactly. So these beings go traipsing around, trying their damndest to remain on the mortal coil, living a faux life, as it were.” He picked up his bucket. “Unseen by mortal eyes, they continue to bleed away the life of the whole plant.”

“Is that why dullahans exist?”

He nodded with a huge smile. “Indeed! It’s me job to pinch the bud before it becomes something more sinister. Something twisted, like the sluagh that chased you when you first crossed. My sister’s job were similar, though she be having a smaller clientele.”

“Smaller clientele ... do you mean Cecilia?” Now this was news. “Cecilia is your sister?”

“As much as ‘tis possible for my kind. We be some of the first fae, created by the queen herself. She followed the rules of creation, and it were considered fashionable to mimic the new humans that were roaming about. One fine day, she reached into the heavens and commanded the light of the stars to create the banshee and the dullahan—or so the old tales be sayin’. We be made in pairs, one man and one woman, and Cecilia is me twin. A woman to be tendin’ the home and a man to roam the fields, though I’ve heard tell that’s no the case these days. We be a physical manifestation of midnight and mortality, so the queen gave us our fearsome appearance to scare the living and the dead. It helps us with our jobs delivering souls to the other side. We keep them from lingering around and making trouble.”

“Oh, I see. So you’re a lot like Death.”

“What?” He tilted his head. “Not a’tall, not a’tall, lass, we be very different. Death is the one who cuts the thread. I be the one who comes to collect and deliver.”

“I see. So you’re kind of like a failsafe then.”

“I guess so.” He lifted his bucket, looked inside, then back at Beth. “I promised the centaurs I be tending the ones in the hedge maze as well. Walk with me, lass?”

Beth smiled, twirling a strand of her hair with her fingers. Something about the dullahan was igniting a spark inside her, and the thrill of the chase was just what she needed to take her mind off the faerie queen. Besides, the dullahan seemed eager to chat, and she wouldn’t mind a sympathetic ear right now.

“I’d love to,” she told him, then walked down the steps of the porch to join him.

Kisa watched from the window as Beth walked down and joined Sulyvahn on the path that led to the hedge maze. She yawned and rolled over on her back, frustrated that her sunbeam had moved.

The last couple of days had been nothing like she expected. Besides a few basic questions about where she may have come from, the others seemed content to let her have free roam of the house. She hadn’t explored much on the third floor. Those were bedrooms, and the weird door at the end of the hall was guarded by a small group of rats. Apparently the mechanism holding it shut was capable of killing you if you didn’t know the code, so she did her best to put it from her mind.

Yesterday she had explored the second floor. The room where she woke up was still empty. Mike had explained that they had ordered some furniture for that room and she was welcome to it if she wanted it for her own. She had accepted, but all that was in there right now was Mike’s sleeping bag, which wasn’t that comfortable.

The other rooms on that floor were mostly for the rats, though she did find an interesting room that looked like a small library. The window overlooked an impossible mountain range, and she wondered what would happen if she climbed out the window and just started walking. The thought was brief, though, because the air had been cold and the cliff was very steep. Apparently nobody had really thought about exploring that area, and without wings, she wouldn’t get to either.

Today had been a perfect day to lounge downstairs. Tink was busy trying to fix the electrical panel again, and Mike was with the centaurs. With most of the floor to herself, she had gone into the office and found the door leading to her current location.

The room she was in now was full of Egyptian artifacts, and though she had been fascinated, a large sunbeam had been shining through the bay window at the front of the house, and she had curled up on the seats.

Once the beam had faded, she woke from her nap to see Beth speaking with Sulyvahn.

She watched them for a few minutes, but she couldn’t hear what they were talking about, so she became bored very quickly. Looking around the room, she saw plenty of things to investigate. Rubbing her hands together in anticipation, she slid off the window seat and started looking around.

Kisa couldn’t help herself.

When she had come in before, her entire world had become about the sunbeam on the window seat, but now that she saw the contents of the room, curiosity had her digging through the contents of the shelves. There were many leather bound books, and way too many statues.

She eventually spotted a device with a pair of lenses like binoculars attached to a stick with a double picture on the end. When she held it to her face, she found that when she relaxed her eyes, the image of the Sphinx would turn three-dimensional.

“Fascinating device, isn’t it? It is called a stereoscope.”

The voice was like a chill down her spine, and when she lowered the stereoscope, she found herself looking up at the grim visage of Death. His bare teeth were twisted into a queer grin, and he set down the picture he had been holding.

Kisa hissed and dropped the stereoscope, then backed into the shelves, knocking several books on the floor. The Grim Reaper frowned at her, his bony visage twisting macabrely, then picked up one of the books.

“You folded some of these pages,” he told her, then tucked the book back in its place. “You should be more careful next time.”

“You’re ... you’re...”

“I am Death.” He tilted his head to one side, then crouched down until he was eye level with her. “Have we met before?”

“Hell, no, we haven’t!” She started to climb the shelves, panic overriding her senses. Part of her was embarrassed to be acting this way, but the flight or fight response had made its choice.

“Are you sure? Hmm.” He picked up the stereoscope she had dropped and held it to his eye sockets. “Ah, the Sphinx! I could tell you an interesting story about what’s inside if you’re interested.”

“Aren’t ... aren’t you here to kill me?”

“Preposterous.” Death lowered the stereoscope. “I am Mike Radley’s guest, and am only here until I can reap the soul of the one called Amir.”

“That’s ... you’re...” Her hair stood on end, and she tried to flatten it. Her tail had poofed to three times its original size, and she grabbed it at the base and smoothed it out. “Nobody told me that the Grim Reaper lived here.”

“Not everyone can see me, so they may have forgotten. Hmm.” He inspected her for a few seconds. “That’s odd. Your soul is both human and animal at the same time. That must be why you can see me.”

“Wait, so ... the others can’t see you?”

“No. Yuki can see me because she summoned me. Mike Radley and I met once when he was younger, and he also has Fae magic in his blood, so he can see me. Oh, and the zombie can see me too, but I cannot see her. That is quite the mystery.”

Kisa shivered, then straightened the hair on her tail again. “What were you saying about my soul?”

“It’s a mixture. Human and cat. Animals can see me, especially the smarter ones.” He flattened the front of his robes. “I prefer dogs. They will wag their tails, and don’t stare at me quite like cats do. I find it unsettling.”

“You ... you’re Death. Why would you find anything like that unsettling?”

Death’s left eye socket twitched. “Because, young kitty, it is very rude to stare.”

“I have a name, you know.”

“And I have yet to hear it.” Death held up the stereoscope again, then adjusted the picture in it.

“You can call me Kisa, I guess.”

“You are uncertain of your name?”

She shook her head. “It isn’t that. It’s just weird to be talking to a skeleton.”

“And yet I have no problem speaking with a cat.” Death lowered the stereoscope from his face and then held it out. “Well, young Kisa, would you like a turn with it?”

“Um ... I guess.” She took the stereoscope back and looked at the Sphinx again. The picture seemed like it was taken at the turn of the century, and she lowered it from her face. Amnesia was a weird creature, sometimes. She clearly knew what the Sphinx was, but had no idea what month she was even born in.

“Here. You can change the picture if you want.” He handed over another photograph, and she took it from him. It was easy to remove the Sphinx and slot another picture inside, and when she looked, it was an image of explorers in a burial tomb. The men were surrounded by native Egyptians, and all of them stood around a large sarcophagus on the floor.

“So where did these pictures come from?” she asked.

“I am unaware,” Death replied. “There are photo albums, but I am not certain who owned them.” He picked up one of the closest albums and handed it over. “I am currently unable to read, so you may have more luck than I do?”

“Death can’t read?” She set down the stereoscope and took the book from him to examine it.

“It has never been necessary.” Death picked up the stereoscope and held it to his sockets. “I like looking at these because I remember quite a bit about the Egyptians. Normally when someone dies, it is a short process. But something about their rituals enabled me to see a bit more, and stay a bit longer. I always appreciated the work they put into preparing themselves to be taken to the other side.”

“And what’s on the other side?” Kisa opened the book. It was more pictures of Egypt, but other than some inscriptions with dates and locations, there was nothing that identified who had made it. The pictures were often of people and locations, but rarely did she see the same person more than once.

“I could tell you,” Death replied. “But then I would have to reap you.”

She lowered the book. “Seriously?”

“No. I was making a joke.” He looked over the top of the stereoscope at her. “Perhaps my humor is too dry?”

“Ugh.” She set the book down and grabbed another photo album. When she opened it, something fell into her lap.

It was another stereoscope image, but this one felt different. There was golden ink along the edges, and someone had drawn odd symbols on the back. It was in color and looked more recent than the other pictures. The picture was of another expedition party, and they were all saluting the cameraman with small glasses of wine.

“Hey, can I borrow that thing?” Kisa asked.

“Yes. I believe it is your turn.” Death handed her the stereoscope, then turned his attention to the window.

She slid the new photograph into the stereoscope and then looked through the lenses. The three dimensional effect was immediate, and she looked at the group of men who were clearly celebrating in front of a wall that had been torn down. Inside, torches illuminated what appeared to be a large sarcophagus in the middle of the room. Treasure was piled along the sides of the room, and hieroglyphs were painted on every available surface.

Like magic, the torches appeared to flicker in place. Kisa held her breath as the shadows on the picture moved in time with the torches, and then the image moved in slow motion. It sped up gradually, and the silent revelers toasted each other and waved, then beckoned for the cameraman to come join them.

A woman stepped in front of the camera. She had long, blonde curls that poked out beneath her explorer’s helmet, and she took one of the offered glasses and then turned toward the camera and gave a mock salute with the drink before slamming half of it. The men in the room were enamored with her, and they practically scrambled over each other to interact with her. There was no sound, so Kisa had no idea what was being said, but when the blonde looked directly into the camera, a long, low growl came from Kisa’s throat.

“Are you okay?” Death asked.

“No,” she replied, anger blooming deep in her gut. She knew this woman, but didn’t know her name. She ripped the photograph out of the stereoscope and handed it to Death. “Do you know who this is?”

“Hmm?” He took the picture from her. “I am familiar with all of these men, actually. They died quite some time ago.”

“Not them. Her.” She stood on her tiptoes to point to the woman, but the picture had reverted to its original state. “Wait, where did she go?”

“I don’t see anybody—oh! Oh ho ho!” Death practically dropped the stereoscope and rushed to the window. He pressed his long, bony fingers to the glass and tapped them in excitement.

“What are you talking about?” She followed his gaze and froze in shock at what she saw happening in the front yard.

Beth followed Sulyvahn away from the house and into the hedge maze. The aroma of flowers filled the air, and a small cluster of bees buzzed through the northeastern quadrant, their bodies laden with thick pollen.

“I’m surprised to see the bees are still around,” Beth said. Outside of the property line, the weather in the neighborhood was chilly, and she wondered where the bees had come from.

“Oh, these belong to the centaurs. They lured in a queen shortly after moving here, they did, and now they be cultivating a hive,” Sulyvahn told her.

“Where is the hive at?”

“With them. Here.” He knelt down and pointed to a small wooden box hidden in the bushes. It was roughly the size of a deck of cards and had a pair of tiny holes in it. “The rats helped. Chewed a tiny little hole in the back. The bees be living in the greenhouse and can come here for pollen.”

“Ingenious. I don’t know that I would have thought to do that.”

“Their chief be both wicked smart and a right beauty.” He stood and picked up his bucket. “They mean to make a go at establishing their tribe in the greenhouse. She be wanting pollinators working full time for them, on account of all the food they want to make. They already be planting flowers on their side, and hope to harvest the seeds. Someone they have o’er there has plans to make hybrids of the lot.”

“Interesting.” She couldn’t help but notice the small smile in the corner of his mouth. “You sure seem to know a lot about this stuff.”

“I dinna have anyone to talk to, really. Ye and yer lot have been locked away, but the centaurs be friendly enough. Learned a lot from them, I have.” He led her further into the maze and stopped at a large rose bush that was attempting to take over a small shrub.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Mike really didn’t trust you.”

“He dinna have a reason to. We’d only just met.” Sulyvahn snipped away at the thicker vines that were attempting to strangle out the shrub.

“Even so ... I’m sorry.”

He smiled again, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

“So how did you get picked for this job?” she asked. “I mean, was it because you’re Cecilia’s brother?”