Halloween I.F. – “Something Rich and Strange” – Day 17

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“I want to keep you safe,” Star repeated, watching Dom’s gaze slide away from his. “But I also want your help, and regardless, this should be your decision. No, it has to be your decision,” he corrected himself, as Dom looked back at him again, surprised. “If you want to help, you should be allowed to help.”

Dom swallowed visibly, throat bobbing. “But?” he prompted.

Star gave him a wincing smile. “But I think we should at least meet Dandelion’s friend. If he insists you have to stay there the whole time, that’d be a red flag, but if he offers a safe place to return to, at least for the next few nights or when you’re not out doing the stuff you need to… well, is that a bad thing? If you get there and you decide, okay, let’s do this, well, then you’ve made the decision with all information on the table.”

The tension seemed to seep from Dom’s shoulders. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “We should meet him.”

Relief and guilt warred in Star, though he wasn’t sure why he was feeling the second one. Maybe just from trying to talk anyone into anything, he thought, annoyed, and squeezed Dom’s hand once more before releasing it. “I’ll let Dandelion know.”

“Yeah. Eat your bread,” Dom added. “I’m worried about the cut. There’s no way they can trace you through your blood, right?”

Was there? Most of the blood would have dissolved into the water right away, too diluted to really draw out. But some would have got in the other nixie’s mouth, and while a nix couldn’t track by blood alone, that didn’t mean something else couldn’t, especially if they managed to get the blood out without the nixie having swallowed it. Star was sure the impulse would be to swallow; it would be his, and he’d sworn off that sort of thing a long time ago. “It’s unlikely,” Star said uneasily. “I don’t think it’ll happen. But I’m not going to say it’s impossible.”

“Cool. Great. Just another thing to try to keep in mind, I guess,” Dom said.

Trying to assuage Dom’s worries, Star took a big bite of the bread, chewing as he texted Dandelion back. Haven’t decided but we’d like to meet him. If Dom’s allowed to come and go freely but is protected in the home that’d be the most likely scenario we’d say yes to.

Dandelion texted back an address and a thumb’s up emoji, which was as good an answer as any, and Star ate another bite, forcing himself to keep going until he’d finished the slice. He wanted meat, but the bread would do for now. He could get a real meal once this was dealt with.

Turning back to Viv, he said, “I think we’re heading out for a bit now, okay? Text me if anything comes up?”

“Wait a sec,” Viv said, beckoning him over. “I was trying to figure out if there was anything else you might need, and they suggested some of this cake.”

“Covert cake,” the brown-haired ‘babe’ said. “My brother made some earlier as an experiment and we’re mostly out, but we’ve got one slice left. It’s a bit experimental but great for sneaking.”

“Your brother?” Dom asked, frowning.

‘Babe’ waved a hand. “Oh, I don’t work here. I’m just around enough to help out once in a while. My brother’s training under Antoine, so lots of experimental spell bakes end up here and I eat whatever to help test edge cases. It’s my privilege as—”

Antoine took the cake box that ‘Babe’ was holding. “Okay, that’s enough info for our customers,” he said dryly. “Covert cake is fairly good at keeping you from being seen or heard for about one hour. We’re working on a mix to try to extend it. There’s only one slice right now, so use it when you really need to not be noticed or seen for an hour.”

Star took it, vanishing it into his portable pocket. “How much?”

“$10. As noted, it’s experimental and was made by a novice.”

He paid up. “Any other warnings?” 

“Yeah. If you, or whoever eats it, interacts with someone directly, the spell will instantly break,” Antoine warned. “And for some reason, your shadow crossing any part of them, including their shadow, counts as direct interaction. So you’d need to keep your distance. Also, you can’t eat it and your freebie slice of protection pie at the same time. They don’t interact well.”

Star considered that. “That’s probably fine,” he said slowly. “Makes sense. Either you think you’re going to get into a scrape and take the pie, or you’re gonna try to avoid one and take the cake.”

“One hopes. With experimentation we might refine it, but that won’t be a quick process,” Antoine said. “I appreciate your business. Come by again if you need anything. If you call a day in advance I can try to get more whipped up.”

Frankly Star had already eaten more than enough baked goods with the slice of bread alone, but it was worth keeping in mind. “Will do. It’s a kindness. I appreciate it.”

He bowed slightly, gave Viv a farewell wave—looked like she had gotten into conversation with this ‘babe’, probably about witch stuff, and he and Dom headed for the door.

“It’s not far,” Star said, reviewing the address again. “Really close to the gate.” That was just a fifteen minute walk from the bakery. “You comfortable walking?”

“Sure,” Dom said. He fell into step beside Star.

Both were silent for a little while, and then Dom cleared his throat. “So,” he said. “You’re really worried, huh?”

“I mean. You’re my friend,” Star stammered, suddenly flustered and not entirely sure why. “You’re my rider.”

“Yeah,” Dom said. “I still don’t really… understand how this happened. Us, I mean. Rider and horse. Is it really enough for you to stick around right now?”

What was there to say? The horse Dom had been hired to jockey for had died suddenly. The owner had unfairly blamed Dom and fired him as a jockey, and Dom was left mourning a horse he’d bonded to and the loss of income and a job he was passionate about, and worried that his reputation would have been harmed. He’d lost everything at once. Star could relate to that.

So he’d offered his services. A new league, riding a horse of his own choice. He hadn’t gone by Star at the time, but they brainstormed the registered name over drinks, tears turning to laughter. “We just met at the right time,” Star said.

“I know. I mean, I remember how it happened, I just…” Dom swallowed. “You trust me so deeply, and now my mind’s been compromised and you’re still trusting me, and still helping me. Going out of your way to do so even though—I mean, it’d be safer for you and your lord if you just disavowed me right now.”

Star knew what Dom meant about trusting him so deeply. But Dom had trusted him first. When Star had offered to become Dom’s mount, he hadn’t done so blindly. Star had said he needed a show of trust, and Dom had willingly mounted him and let him run—him, a nixie, a brook horse, what would be called a kelpie if he’d come from another territory than he had been, fairies who were known to drown and kill and eat anyone who dared ride them.

The show of trust had been enough that Star owed him one in return. So he let Dom put a bridle on him. When a bridle was on him as they rode, he was completely responsive to all of Dom’s desires. He was required to be. It made him subservient to Dom in every way, and he only got his freedom back after the race when the bridle came off.

Dom hadn’t liked it, not really, had even offered to ride bridleless, but receiving commands was how a horse was ridden by a jockey instead of just following his own feet. Dom wouldn’t be doing anything without one, and the offer would have been empty. Star had tried to explain that it was just a domestic horse’s nature, to learn to respond to a bridle and have difficulty fighting it with a good rider, and Dom had argued that Star wasn’t domestic. It was true; it was a magical enchantment built into his bones as a brook horse. Impossible to make a normal human fully understand.

“I’m not going to disavow you,” Star said. “You’re important to me.”

“As a rider?”

This was all too much. “As you,” Star shot back. “Hang on, I have to text everyone.”

Dom fell silent and Star hurriedly buried his gaze in the phone, walking blindly as he sent a general message to the group to update them on the progress, and to remind everyone to give him regular check-ins if nothing had changed and updates if they did.

“I think we’re here,” Dom said, a short while later, and Star finally dared to glance up.

The air was thick with magic and strangeness, this close to the gate. For Dom, it would feel like a high pressure front, a headache and faint pain that he likely couldn’t avoid. Acclimatization to a gate was hard; if Dom didn’t come down to the valley regularly to ride, staying a place like this long term would be very difficult for him.

But he did, at least.

The mansion looked old, Victorian-style, though Star had no way of knowing if it actually was a heritage home that had been preserved through the shift in geography or if it was a newer home created in that style. There was a gated-off front garden, with a path that led to stairs up to the front door, and a personal garden that wound around the entire building. The building itself was painted an ominous black, including the building’s turret tower. 

The gate wasn’t iron, though; if Star didn’t miss his guess, it was silver, which would cause a problem to a variety of creatures, but Star wasn’t among them. He let out a breath as he led Dom in through the front gate. A large cat, almost the size of a dog, black with a white spot on its chest, was loafing on the lawn and keeping a close eye on them. Star glanced aside at it, making eye contact. A cat-sìth, standing guard—another fairy creature. It didn’t say anything to Star, but when Star inclined his head, it inclined its own back.

What kind of place was this, anyway? Clearly a fairy place, between the lack of iron and the cat-sìth out front, but what did that mean, in this case?

Nobody answered his knock, but when Star tried the door, it creaked open. He stepped inside, gesturing Dom in after him. To the right was a sitting room, where a beautiful woman who smelled of the sea sat, playing a harp made of bone to a handful of people, some human, some other fairies. 

“Hello,” Star called, and the woman put a hand on the strings to still them, turning towards him and Dom. Star realized she was blind, her white eyes not focusing on them. “My noble Lord Dandelion arrived earlier today and invited us here to meet the host. Where might I go?”

She was silent another moment, assessing the sound of his voice, and likely, the general scent and aura of him. He was sure she was a selkie, and wondered where her skin was—did Dandelion’s friend hold it hostage, or was she here under his protection, perhaps to hide from whoever had it? “Straight down the hall and to the left,” she said, softly melodious. “There’s a sitting room. Your lord has been in a meeting with mine for a time.”

“It’s a kindness,” Star told her with a bow he hoped she’d sense, if not see. He left her gazing blindly and thoughtfully after them as he led Dom that way. 

“Is it just me or is this place a little uncanny?” Dom whispered.

“Fairy hideouts often are,” Star said, with more confidence than he felt. The door was where the selkie had said it was, and he knocked briskly. 

“Come in,” a low voice said, and Star obligingly opened the door.

Behind him, Dom choked on a half-voiced curse, and Star could see why. Dandelion sat in one chair on the near side of the desk, but behind it, sprawled across a large chaise lounge, was a fifteen-foot-long dragon. He was slim and elegant, black scaled with a gold undertone, and his eyes were remarkably human. The dragon sat up as they entered, and he moved oddly; it was natural, like he was born to it, but with a sort of sense like he was being puppeted by something inside him, like how it felt to watch a Lunar New Year lion dance.

“I am the Lindwyrm,” the dragon said to Star with no preamble. “My old friend here said your friend may need a place to stay and be safe from those who might hunt him. I sell hospitality for stories, and protection for blood. Your lord already agreed to share stories to allow your friend to stay here as needed and leave freely as desired, and has also agreed to give a vial of his blood should your friend need protection at all times when under my roof. Are these terms amenable?”

“W-well,” Dom said. “We just met, I haven’t quite decided—”

“You may explore my home if you wish to confirm its safety and suitability,” the Lindwyrm interrupted briskly. “Question anyone you want, myself included, to make sure you know what you are getting into.” He seemed impatient and a little bored. Well, after all, Star had kept putting off coming. “Then, once you decide if my home is amenable to you, we can finalize the deal.”

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It can be anything you want, but if you want to explore, let me know, and
if you want to ask questions, please let me know to whom and what the questions are.
Also, thank you so much for your patience and understanding ♥]

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