The Snow Queen's Shadow (24 page)

“I’m afraid I must agree,” said Veleris. “Your people are impulsive and quick to act. It can be a strength, but you neglect to think beyond your short lives to the consequences of your actions.”

“We didn’t crawl through miles of dirt and rock for a lecture,” Talia said. “This demon has already burned the palace.”

“Let them burn!” Bellum snatched the headband from Veleris and placed it on her own brow. “Let them know what it feels like to be hunted down, to be driven from their homes and destroyed. The more of you the demon kills, the safer this world becomes for our people.”

The other fairies at the table slunk away, escaping Bellum’s anger.

“Safer?” Talia repeated. “This thing has already murdered the dryad who brought us to Allesandria.”

Bellum slammed her hand on the table. “That’s what happens to our kind when we help humans.”

Danielle tried again, speaking as calmly as she could. “The Duchess—”

“The Duchess does not speak for Speas Elan,” snapped Bellum. “What goes on in your world is of no concern to us. Your people summoned this thing. You deal with it.”

“So you’ll do nothing?” demanded Talia.

Veleris whispered to Bellum, who rolled her eyes. “No,” Bellum said, not bothering to conceal her disgust. “We will help you. You may stay here. This place is safer than any in Allesandria. Whatever hell this demon creates, it won’t last forever. One day both you and we shall return to the surface. If not you, then your children, or theirs.”

“My child is a prisoner,” said Danielle. “I
will
get him back.”

“Then go,” said Bellum. “None here will stop you.”

Danielle glanced at her companions. Talia appeared ready to attack the giant barehanded. The darkling waited silently in the shadows, as did Gerta.

Danielle studied the giant more closely. Bellum glared right back, her yellow eyes daring Danielle to argue. Veleris, on the other hand, simply stared into the distance, her expression one of weary sadness.

“You’ve lived down here a long time,” said Danielle.

“More than a century.”

Well before the laws of Allesandria were changed. Rose Curtana had been but one in a long line of ambitious rulers who feared or hated fairykind. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” yelled Bellum. Veleris’ eyes fixed on Danielle.

“And how long have you ruled Speas Elan?” asked Danielle.

“Ever since the day we fled underground,” Bellum said. “By then we were hiding in small bands. Always moving. Always hiding. Your people hunted us for sport, did you know that?”

Danielle thought back to what Tommy had said about castes. Giants were servant caste, not royal. “You weren’t expecting to rule when you fled underground, were you? You weren’t trained for this. I know what it’s like to be thrust into leadership.”

“The royal caste ordered us to fight,” said Bellum, her tone wary. “They tried to rally a fairy army against your witches and wizards. Most of my kin joined them. They fell.”

“The demon will hunt humans and fairies both.” Danielle beckoned Gerta forward. “This woman is kin to King Laurence. If you choose to help us, both Lorindar and Allesandria would be in your debt.”

Veleris smiled. Without a word, she reached over to take the headband from Bellum. The headband marked which head was in charge at any given moment, Danielle realized, though she wasn’t entirely sure how they decided when it should be passed. She thought back to Tommy’s warning.
Try not to make them angry.
Perhaps Bellum dominated in matters of anger and conflict, while Veleris ruled for more peaceful topics.

Both of the giant’s heads turned toward Gerta. “What
are
you?” asked Veleris. “There’s an aura to you that reminds me of a fairy changeling, but your magic is human.”

“She’s like a changeling, only fresher,” said Bellum. “She stinks like a newborn.”

“A conjuration, to be certain,” Veleris said. “Hastily constructed, a painting not yet dried.”

Gerta sniffed. “I beg your pardon?”

“Typical human sloppiness,” Bellum concluded.

“I’m not—”

Danielle grabbed Gerta’s arm and squeezed. “Don’t upset them.” To Veleris, she said, “She is our friend. And there must be some way you could help us. I give you my word we’ll do whatever we can to aid you and your people in return.”

“The help of a dead woman’s little use to us,” Bellum muttered.

“Come with us,” Veleris said. “We will give you what aid we can, within limits. We won’t risk our people’s safety.”

“I understand,” said Danielle. “Thank you.”

“That’s it?” Talia asked warily. “No price, no bargain? What kind of fairy are you?”

Veleris smiled. “The kind who recognizes that the things I want are beyond your power.”

“Or the kind that doesn’t expect you to survive long enough to fulfill your side of any bargain,” Bellum added with a chuckle. “Come along, O short-lived ones.”

The giant led them through another tunnel to a large, rectangular doorway. A dragon guarded the door, this one larger and darker in color than Koren. A thick chain ran from his leather collar to a bolt in the floor. He lay curled on his side against the wall, eyeing them warily as they approached. He must have decided they were safe, because he stretched, then curled his neck down and began to spit tiny gouts of flame against his own backside.

“What is he doing?” asked Gerta.

“Cleaning himself.” Veleris pounded the dragon’s neck as she stepped past. The dragon climbed to his feet and rubbed the top of his head against Veleris’ palm, like a dog begging to be petted. Veleris chuckled as she opened the door. “If I wasn’t with you, he’d already have barbequed you and your friends.”

Danielle wished they had been allowed to reclaim their weapons. Tame or not, the creature was still large enough to rip off an arm or leg with a single bite. Though she doubted the dragon would even notice an attack by anything less than an enchanted blade.

The giant’s room was modest, little more than an oversized storeroom with wood-planked walls and old support beams. At some point in the past, the wooden wall on the back had been torn down and crude shelves carved into the rock. Oversized parchments, each tightly rolled and tied, were stuffed onto the shelves. A dirty curtain partially concealed a smaller cave, where rumpled blankets were tossed over a woven mat. A small oil lantern hung on the wall to the right of the doorway.

“Make sure you shut the door,” said Veleris. “The beast likes to sneak in and steal a snack.” She patted a barrel that smelled of old fish.

“What’s his name?” asked Gerta as she pulled the door closed.

“What gives me the right to impose a name upon another creature?” Veleris began digging through the parchments, scanning small symbols jotted on the ends of each. With a satisfied grunt, she yanked one out and unrolled it across the floor. “Hold that, will you?”

The parchment was the size of a small carpet, covering more than half the floor. Line after line of tiny brown characters were broken only by meticulously precise drawings. Danielle had spent enough time with Snow to recognize various summoning circles.

“What kind of skin is this?” asked Gerta.

“Dragon,” said Bellum. “It lasts much longer than ordinary parchment.”

“My mother trapped the demon within a mirror,” said Gerta. “Bound by a platinum frame. The summoning ring was built into the palace, but it was the mirror that held the demon.”

“Mm.” Veleris scowled. “Your mother summoned the creature in spirit only. Clever. But even so, no simple circle would have held this demon.”

“What would?” asked Talia.

“Power.” Bellum bared her teeth. “There are techniques to trap magic within the metal. Build a forge fueled by the bones of a hundred wizards, quench the white-hot metal in their blood . . . you might be able to contain even a major demon for a while. But that frame lost its hold when the demon escaped, and it has a body now”

“What does that mean?” asked Talia. “Do we need the bones of two hundred wizards? Give me a week in Kanustius, and—”

“Snow gives the demon physical form.” Veleris grabbed another scroll and unrolled it over the first. “That can be a weakness as well as a strength. Snow White’s power is added to its own, but the demon’s magic is now channeled through her human body.”

Bellum grunted. “Fairy magic would likely resist her power, at least for a time.”

“It does,” said Danielle. “My son . . . he has fairy blood. The demon’s magic didn’t work on him.”

Veleris stared at her a long time, her face furrowed. “I’m not going to ask.”

Gerta was crouched on the floor, squinting as though she could figure out the language on the giant’s parchment through sheer willpower. “I’ve touched the demon’s power, seen what it can do. How can a young child resist that, even with fairy blood?”

“It’s not what he does,” said Veleris. “It’s what he is.” She pointed to a small illustration of intersecting circles. “Your kind believe demons are creatures of Hell, yes? Made to torment the damned for all eternity?”

“There are some who believe that,” Danielle said.

Veleris smiled. “What hold would such a being have over a fairy, destined for neither Heaven nor Hell?”

Bellum snorted. “Mystic claptrap. Fairies are magic, that’s all. Fairy magic and human magic overlap, as do human and demon, but fairy and demon magic are like oil and water.”

Gerta paled. “That’s why she—why the demon needs Jakob.”

Everyone turned to face her.

“Danielle, when you saw Jakob in your vision, you said he sat upon a frozen lake polished smooth as glass. A mirror of ice. He was playing with shards of ice, and his hands were bleeding. Jakob was born of darkling magic. He has fairy power in his blood, as well as human. What would happen if that blood were mixed into a mirror formed of ice?”

“She’s already used a great many shards from her mother’s mirror,” Danielle said. “She has to be running low. But if that lake serves as a new mirror, every splinter of ice carrying her magic . . .”The demon would have a never-ending supply of power. One infused with her son’s blood and magic as well as her own.

Veleris whistled softly. Bellum scowled. “Possible,” she said. “I don’t understand human magic that well, but—”

“Snow could do it,” Gerta said. “I couldn’t, but she could figure it out.”

“How much—” Danielle swallowed and forced herself to finish. “How much of his blood would she need?”

“It’s hard to say.” Bellum shrugged her shoulder. “How many drops of poison does it take to kill a man?”

“Depends on the poison and the weight of the man,” Talia shot back.

“She could keep him alive,” said Veleris. “Bleed him each day, taking only what she needs. With care, he could survive for years.”

“Don’t give them false hope,” Bellum said. “More likely, once the demon figures out how to use the boy’s blood, it will kill him and spill it all. Demons aren’t known for their patience.”

“Enough.” Danielle’s voice, trembling from her effort to retain control, cut through their discussion like steel. She jabbed a finger at the parchments. “Tell me how to stop it.”

Gerta sucked her lower lip as she thought. “There has to be a way to summon it out of Snow. Build a new circle, call it here, and kill it.”

Veleris shook her head. “Even if you found someone strong enough to summon the demon, it would drain the strength from your friend when it felt itself being pulled away. She would be left an empty husk, and the demon would only find a new host.”

Talia grabbed the parchments and flung them aside. “The Duchess said you could help us to save Snow White. Either tell us how, or put us in touch with the Duchess so we can tell her you’ve made a liar out of her.”

“We
can
save your friend,” Veleris said softly.

“How?” asked Danielle.

“With me.” Gerta stood against the wall, staring at the floor. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Snow crafted her, didn’t she?” asked Veleris. The giant rose, both heads studying Gerta. “She’s the key.”

“Gerta can destroy the demon?” asked Danielle. She had to strain to hear Gerta’s response.

“No. I tried to fight her . . . but that’s
not
why she created me.”

Veleris reached out to cup Gerta’s face. “How long have you known?”

Gerta pulled away. “I started to suspect back in Noita’s garden. I wasn’t certain until after I tried to fight her, back in Kanustius. I thought you might have another way.”

Veleris said nothing, allowing Bellum to explain. “The girl is incomplete. I can feel the darkling shielding her, hiding the thread that ties her back to her creator. Use that connection to strike at Snow through Gerta. The demon will try to escape. Every infected soul is a potential host. But if you can trap it, block off those paths, then it will share Snow’s fate.”

“Snow’s fate?” Talia repeated.

“Use that bond,” Gerta whispered. “By killing me, you could kill her as well.”

“No.” Danielle shook her head. “The Duchess sent us here so you could help us save our friend. Not kill her.”

Bellum scowled, her eyes going to the headband on Veleris’ brow, but apparently the giant wasn’t yet angry enough for Bellum to take control. She looked at Danielle and asked, “Your friend is possessed. Enslaved to a power you still don’t understand. This is the only way to save her from her torment. How long will you waste in pointless protest? How much time do you think your son has?”

Danielle didn’t answer. Save her son by murdering Snow?

“You can’t be considering this.” Talia grabbed Danielle’s arm. “I won’t let you kill them.”

Danielle’s eyes blurred. “Talia—”

Talia’s fingers tightened. “Don’t try to justify this.”

“Snow knew,” said Gerta. “This is why she made me, so we’d have a weapon to use against her.”

“Then we find another weapon!” Talia was shouting now. “When Danielle’s stepsisters took Armand, we saved him. When the mermaids attacked Lorindar, we beat them. Danielle faced down the Wild Hunt. We can—”

“I’m sorry,” said Veleris. “The longer you wait, the longer your friend suffers, and the more powerful the demon becomes.”

“Snow White was dead the moment the demon took her,” added Bellum. “Stop dragging things out because you’re too selfish to let her go.”