Pyromantic Page 16

  14

  JUST DARN IT

  EZRA STRETCHED an old picnic blanket out off to the side for Alistair and Gwenant to sit on so they could began their negotiations. Lock persuaded the plants to climb out of the ground, their roots marching them along to safer land. They were reluctant at first, but then Lock told them why he was moving them and they hopped to. I swear one of the ferns gave me a dirty look.

  I glared back at the fern. “Surely there was an easier way than moving all of them.”

  “Faster and more efficient, yes. You could have razed the plant life down to the ground or I could have only evacuated a ring of plants to act as a firebreak. But there’s a lot of endangered flora around here. I’d rather take a few extra minutes and move them safely.”

  I grimaced, following him to gather some wood. “I guess that’s the big difference between your powers and mine. Your first thought is life and maintaining ecosystems. Mine’s all destruction.”

  Lock grabbed my wrist, the movement fast, but his hold was gentle. “You’re oversimplifying again, cupcake. Power is a tool. Don’t want to use yours for destruction? Be more creative. I could just as easily tell the plants to wither and die. But that’s not what I want to do. Don’t get stuck in the idea that your power is a single-purpose weapon. It’s lazy thinking, and you’re better than that.” His hand slid down and he squeezed my fingers gently before letting go. “Besides, forest fires have an important role in nature, too.”

  We gathered wood in silence after that. Lock had said his piece, and I needed to think on what he said. Soon enough we had a bonfire going, Bianca casting a large veil over all of us so that some nocturnal river enthusiast didn’t spy a large group of ponies and a strange impromptu knitting circle of one.

  Sylvie didn’t want to waste time, so she started in on the line of kelpies with sweater-related failures. If our respective leaders didn’t come to an agreement, then she would stop, or most likely we’d have to make her stop, but until then, she just wanted to get going. I spread my jacket out on the ground to give her somewhere slightly more comfortable to sit. Rather surprisingly, Fitz stood behind her like an overprotective big brother, directing the ponies as they shifted and handed over their respective garments.

  I didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to learn more about the kelpies, but I don’t think I gathered much info. There really didn’t seem to be any correlation between the coloring of the pony form and the human form. White ponies were just as likely to be black, brown, white, and every shade in between when they shifted. I couldn’t always tell the males from the females until they were in human form, either, unless they spoke or I got a flashlight and did some creative leaning, which would make what I was doing fairly obvious.

  Sylvie had used toggles instead of buttons, which the kelpies would still be able to maneuver when they were in kelpie form. Some of the sweaters had lost their toggles, others had tears like Fitz’s sweater did. Most were reparable. Sylvie singled out three or four that she could do a temporary fix on, but she knew they wouldn’t last long. Basically, we were going to have to find another knitter. Sylvie couldn’t keep up with the demand. I could tell she was fighting it, but there was a defeated cast to her features.

  So she stitched and worked, and Fitz stood guard.

  “Looks like Sylvie made a friend,” Lock said.

  “Only Sylvie could inspire protective feelings in a kelpie.” I really wasn’t that surprised. Sylvie was just one of those people. She was like the personification of an adorably hyperactive kitten. You had to love her.

  “It’s more than that,” Bianca said, linking her arm through Lock’s. I did my best to ignore the gesture. Arms. They were just arms. Bianca and Lock were friends, and that’s what friends do, or at least that’s what you do when you have touchy-feely friends like Lock and Ezra. At least his arm was all she was touching. It could have been worse.

  “How do you know, Bianca?” Ezra gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You speak Welsh now?”

  “No, but I overheard some of the negotiations. Since Fitz was the one who stepped forward, he’s responsible for us now. If we mess up or act in bad faith, it’s his job to fix it.”

  I leaned into Ezra. “And by ‘fix it’ you mean slaughter the lot of us and turn us into pony chow?”

  “Pretty much.” Bianca went back to Alistair, who was beckoning her over. Negotiations seemed to be over. Alistair didn’t look happy, but he didn’t look angry, either.

  “Gwenant will allow her fellows to talk to us and will, should the time come, provide aid in this endeavor, and this endeavor only.” A few of the kelpies were getting uneasy waiting, their eyes casting back toward the water. Alistair flicked his wrist, and a small cloud appeared. With a gentle push, he sent it over to the upset kelpies and had it mist them with rain. They looked at the cloud, stunned, but quickly got over the miracle of it and simply enjoyed the rain. Who knew that kelpies enjoyed frolicking and prancing in the rain? One of them was chewing on a frog while prancing around, which kind of ruined the image, but I chose to ignore that.

  “And what are we giving them in return?” I asked.

  Alistair twitched his other wrist and sent another cloud over. “Sylvie is going to fix what she can. If the sweater can’t be fixed, it will be replaced, but only after she provides them with two junior sweaters and another regular-size one.”

  I winced. “Alistair, she’s already identified four that won’t keep their patch for long. The ward and the yarn took too much of a hit. Sylvie is amazing, but she’s not a machine.” I watched as Sylvie stitched, her concentration fierce as Fitz maneuvered the flashlight to shine on the right spot. “And you know she didn’t keep the fact that those fixes were temporary to herself. The owners of those sweaters are aware.”

  Alistair rubbed the back of his neck. “Nor should she. Any sign that we’re crossing the kelpies and Gwenant will rain hellfire down upon us. I’ll have to get ahold of Sylvie’s aunt and her witch friend. We need to know if the ward pattern is enough or if there are steps we aren’t aware of.” He let his hand drop. “And we’re going to have to find more knitters.”

  We were there until almost three in the morning, and oddly enough it was Fitz who called the halt. Sylvie had poked herself a few times with the darning needle because she was tired and her fingers were getting cold. Darning needles were too blunt to break skin, but it was indicative of how worn out she was getting. And despite the flashlight, she was squinting, and I think she was getting a headache. She’d pause occasionally to rub her temples.

  Fitz told the remaining kelpies they’d have to wait until the next day for their patches, even though there were only a few sweaters left to fix. Two of them shifted to argue, but Fitz held his ground. “If you force her to keep working, the stitches won’t be as good. She’s exhausted. You can wait one more day. I’ll make sure she comes back tomorrow.” The other two were much bigger than Fitz, but when he stuck out his jaw, they backed off. Apparently you didn’t mess with Fitz. I couldn’t tell if that made me feel better that he was sort of on our side, or worse. What did it take, exactly, to be scary to the other kelpies?

  Ezra was rubbing warmth back into Sylvie’s hands, keeping an eye on the kelpies as he did. Just because we’d come to an agreement didn’t mean we trusted them.

  “I’ll come back tomorrow when the light’s better. The work will go faster then,” Sylvie assured them. She packed her things and stretched.

  We watched as most of the kelpies dispersed. Fitz talked softly to Gwenant a little ways off. She was much calmer now, or maybe her arms were tired from all the waving she did earlier.

  “I thought they were going to talk to us.” I shook out my jacket and pushed my arms through the sleeves.

  “We are,” Fitz said, coming back to us, his accent thick with his own weariness. Gwenant left without so much as a good-bye. “I’m to go back with you.”

  “Won’t that be difficult for you physically?” Lock asked. “What
with us not being by the river and all?”

  Fitz adjusted his cardigan. We were really going to have to get him some pants. “Your boss and Gwenant worked something out. There will be some minor discomfort, I’m sure. Gwennie will have seen to that. She does not like it when she doesn’t get her way.” It looked like Fitz was used to putting up with such things, too.

  And that’s how we ended up carpooling with a kelpie. He sat in the back with Sylvie, while Lock and I rode up front. I drove, since Lock had done the lion’s share of the driving so far. He liked to drive and I was somewhat indifferent, so usually I let him. I adjusted the rearview mirror and pushed it too far down, accidentally catching a good, long look at Fitz’s legs. “Gah. Okay, first things first. When we get back, we’re getting you some trousers.”

  “You have a problem with the natural state of the body?” Fitz had curled himself into the back seat so that his back was to the door.

  “No, I mean, I hang out with Ezra, who’s naked a large portion of the time. I’m pretty used to that.”

  “Why, is Ezra a nudist?” Sylvie asked as she buckled her seat belt.

  “It has to do with what he is,” I said, “which you’ll have to ask him about. But maybe don’t ask him about nudity specifically, because it’s Ezra, and you don’t really want to get him started.” I turned the key and the engine sputtered to life. “It’s just weird to see a naked dude in a cardigan, Fitz. You’re Porky Pigging it. And that’s not right.”

  Fitz closed his eyes. “Who’s Porky Pig?”

  “He’s a cartoon pig who only wears a jacket, but no pants. We can show you videos later,” I said. “Just trust me on the trousers. Now are you going to spill what you know, or what?”

  Fitz gave me a tight-lipped smile. “I told your boss I’d wait until we’re all together. Makes sense to only be telling it once.” There was no budging him, so we didn’t bother trying.

  *

  BACK AT the cabin, Bianca veiled Fitz so that if one of our neighbors was taking a late-night stroll in the woods, no one would see a pantsless guy walking about and call the cops. We all found it unnerving to have an invisible kelpie walking with us, so she dropped the veil immediately once we were inside the house, and I dug up a robe until we found him something else. Fitz didn’t think the robe made much of a difference. Trust me when I say that it did. Alistair got him a big glass of water, which would help the kelpie put off the discomfort of being on land a bit longer.

  When we were all gathered, Fitz started talking. And the thing he started talking about was snails.

  “They are very big.” He held his hands out until they indicated something about the size of his head. “Never seen a snail like that. At first we thought it was a boon. Snails can be quite tasty.” He took a sip of water. “Only, it turned out that they weren’t so good to eat. The kelpies that did, well, it was a last supper.”

  “They’re poisonous?” I asked, sitting next to Sylvie. She had put on her pajamas and curled up in a blanket on the couch. After being outside so long and sitting on the ground—even with a bonfire—she was having a hard time getting warm, so she’d cocooned herself in one of the comforters. I thought I heard a strangled squeak come out from the pile, but wasn’t sure.

  “Not exactly. I saw a harbor seal eat one, no problem. Other things can eat them, but we can’t. We tried to avoid them, but they seem to be drawn to us. There is never just one snail. That’s why we’ve been spending so much time on land. The snails can’t survive long out of the water.”

  “You can’t be near the snails at all?” I asked.

  “We don’t know.” Fitz kept glancing around our living room, though not in a nervous manner. I don’t think kelpies spent much time indoors. This was probably an experience he wanted to file away. “After what happened to the ones who ate them, none of us wanted to be near them. But they chased us. So we left.”

  “What happened to the kelpies that ate one?” Alistair asked.

  Fitz cast a concerned glance at his water glass. “They drowned.”

  “Kelpies can’t drown,” Lock said from his seat on the floor. “They’re water creatures. That’s like finding a dryad that can’t climb trees.”

  Fitz scratched his forehead. “Aye, that’s the thing of it. It’s like whatever makes a kelpie a kelpie was gone. Without it…” He spread his fingers wide. The room was quiet as we all digested that. What did it mean when something took away the thing that made us different? If something took my fire away, could I manage without it? Or was it too wrapped up in my physical makeup for me to survive without it? A few years ago, I would have jumped at the chance to find out. When my mom and I were on the run, outcast and hunted because of what we were, trading my fire away so I could be normal would have seemed like a miracle. I wouldn’t have even had to think about it. But now? Psychologically, it was too much a part of me, the way I saw myself.

  Humans can cope with this kind of thing—the quarterback that blows out his knee, the ballerina who breaks her femur. They can always do something else. Not being able to throw a pass doesn’t make them less human. But a firebug who can’t throw fire, or a kelpie that couldn’t swim, that was a different story. I had no idea what would happen to me on a physiological basis. And I was nowhere near as magical as a kelpie. I, at least, was basically human, but with a bonus. But kelpies were all magic. They lived and breathed it. What could take that away?

  “It’s like those locusts,” Lock said. “The ones Ava, Ezra, and I had to deal with a few months back. They swarmed and devoured any magic in their path. I’ve never heard of magic-eating snails, but I don’t see why they couldn’t exist.”

  “That would explain why we’re not seeing any problems with the human population,” Bianca said. “If the snails are like those locusts, they only attack things with magic. Humans would be left alone.”

  “How did that affect the sweaters?” Sylvie asked, all but her face swathed in blanket. Her voice sounded high and tight.

  “The snails think they are delicious. Sometimes they would manage a bite or two before we could get away. We are fast swimmers, but we must stop to eat, and the snails, they swarm. That’s why so many of the sweaters are damaged.”

  “That would tear at the wards and the material,” Lock mused. “Though I’m not sure how snails could tear yarn.”

  “Oh, that’s the best part,” Fitz said. “These snails have teeth.”

  “Like a mouth?” I asked.

  “Snails don’t have mouths,” Sylvie said. “They have these hard organs that are kind of like tongues covered in teeth. They use those to rip, tear, and grind food. It’s pretty fascinating.”

  “Well, right now they’re using that fascinating organ to tear up your handiwork,” I said. “And you sure do know a lot about snails.” I heard another muffled squeak. “Did they go after kelpies without sweaters?”

  “Aye. They went after the ones without sweaters, but they swarmed the ones with them,” Fitz said grimly.

  “More magic, more snails?” Ezra asked.

  Fitz nodded and then picked up a candle and sniffed it, recoiling from the smell. He put it back quickly. I had a feeling that before he left, Fitz would touch every item in this cabin.

  Alistair stared at the whiteboard. “So, we have magic-eating snails chewing up warded sweaters and killing kelpies and driving them out of the water, as well as another mysterious something causing aggression and madness. Great. Two problems. Are they both natural, or is someone causing this?”

  I heard a muted something from Sylvie’s cocoon. “Oh, this is ridiculous, Sylvie. You can’t be that cold.” I yanked the blanket away from her face. And that’s when I discovered that the muted something was Sylvie crying. “What the hell, Sylvie. Are you okay?”

  She shook her head, her hair sticking a little to her wet cheeks. “You don’t have two problems, you have one. I think.” Her face twisted. “And it’s just … it’s very upsetting!” She buried her face in the blanket and sobbed, her sho
ulders heaving.

  “Well, that was unexpected,” Ezra said, blinking at our hysterical friend. “Right. Lock, get her some hot chocolate.”

  “That’s very thoughtful, Ezra,” Alistair said. I agreed, but I knew to wait for the rest of it.

  “And while you’re at it, make me some.”

  Ah, there it was.

  Alistair sent Bianca for a cold washcloth, which he applied to the back of Sylvie’s neck. He didn’t say anything, just sat there, waiting for her to pull herself back together. Only when Sylvie had hot chocolate in her hands and the sobs had become hiccups did Alistair press her.

  She gazed into her hot chocolate for a long time, and I could see Rational Sylvie taking over again.

  Alistair sat on the coffee table so he was at eye level with Sylvie. “What do you mean, you think we just have one problem?”

  “I think it is statistically unlikely for two new things to appear in an area at the same time—two things that affect the same specific population no less, and not have them be related.” Sylvie’s hands trembled as she held the hot chocolate.

  I thought about what Sylvie said. Both problems had reared their nasty heads at the same time. We hadn’t found any evidence of overlap, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any. And it wasn’t just two things that were new. “I keep coming back to Sylvie’s project. The snails and the violent outbreaks aren’t the only things that were new. Those warded sweaters are pretty fresh and shiny, too.”

  Alistair folded his arms, his face grim. “We need to find that witch. I can take care of that. Everyone get some sleep. At least a few hours. Sylvie, I need the witch’s contact info. First we’ll find out what we can about the magic used on the sweaters. I have a feeling the witch’s cooperation will vanish when we bring up the snails. Then we can see about rounding up some knitters. And that is honestly something I never thought I’d say.”

  Bianca got up and stretched. “Sid can knit.”

  We all turned and stared at Sid.

  “What?” he said, somewhat indignant. “A man can’t knit? I happen to like it, and I’m good at it, so there.”