Beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and picturesque facade of the City of Redemption lies another city; a community of dark and ancient magic populated by creatures of the night.
Reporter Cassandra True has been imprisoned by Mrs. Morrigan, the sweet old lady she was supposed to be interviewing. Morrigan, it turns out, is a sorceress with an obsessive interest in Cassandra's friend Strephon, who, unbeknownst to Cassandra, is a semi-immortal half-fae. Morrigan has already enslaved a pair of faerie named Banshee and Wisp to her will and now intends to use Cassandra to lure Strephon into a trap.
Dark Redemption is an Urban Gothic Fantasy which will be running in weekly installments Wednesday evenings. Previous installments can be found linked at the Dark Redemption Index.
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Chapter 25: To The Rescue
In Which Miss True converses with a fae, and Strephon finds himself in need of rescuing as well.
Cassandra shivered as she watched the Morrigan polish the silver amulet. The woman was mad, of course, but what could Cassandra do?
She saw a shimmering in the air which solidified into the pale, light-haired young man she'd seen earlier. "What is it, Wisp?" Morrigan asked.
"Strephon is approaching, Mistress," the Wisp replied. "He has just left his taxicab and is entering the forest."
"Good! Good!" Morrigan chuckled.
"He is not alone," Wisp added. Morrigan looked up at him sharply. He paused uncertainly, then continued. "There is another fae with him. And a mortal."
"Who are they?"
The Wisp dissipated and re-coalesced into the image of Devon, Strephon's cousin. Cassandra gasped with recognition. "Ah, so you know him," Morrigan said. "What of the other?" The Wisp again dissolved and assumed the form of Tobias.
Morrigan hobbled over to the cage and peered at Cassandra through the bars. "Who are those people? Tell me!"
Something about the old woman's gaze seized Cassandra like the grip of a vise. She cried out involuntarily. "Devon! The first one's name is Devon! He's Strephon's cousin. And the other is Tobias Simms. He's a taxi driver."
The witch released Cassandra from that dreadful stare and she collapsed to the bottom of the cage. Morrigan turned back to the Wisp. "Simms... must be related to that Jamaican witch. No matter. I'll deal with her in good time. The mortal is inconsequential."
"But Mistress, the Moor bears iron."
"I said no matter! I will take Banshee with me to deal with Strephon's little friends." The witch narrowed her gaze. "You remain here and see that the girl does not escape."
Morrigan pocketed the silver amulet and left the workshop, and Wisp took a position in a chair at the other end of the room.
Cassandra sat still in the suspended cage, trying to keep it from rocking; but she also surveyed her surroundings, hoping to find something that might help. She spotted her handbag with her phone in it on Morrigan’s workbench, out of reach, next to a basket of smooth, round agates in various colors, each about the size of a doorknob and looking like Easter eggs. A scattering of metal-working tools also lay on the workbench and even more hung from the walls. There were also several short belts -- or were they dog collars? -- with metallic ornamentation she couldn’t quite make out. She saw a large, ornate key made of wrought iron, that looked like a stage prop of some kind. Perhaps the cage was a stage prop too. Cassandra didn’t recall any Gilbert and Sullivan operas set in a dungeon, but the cage would have fit right in a production of Hansel und Gretel. She could see nothing useful that she could reach, except maybe on the wall nearest to her cage there was a city map torn out of the telephone directory tacked to the wall. It had a pentagram drawn over it with colored push-pins marking the points of the star. She might be able to grab a few of them and use them to… what? Give Morrigan a good scratch if she stuck her hand in the cage? Still, at least they’d be some kind of weapon, if she could snatch a couple without Wisp noticing.
Except that Wisp never took his relentless grey eyes off her and never seemed to blink. So Cassandra settled down and watched him back. Finally, she dared to speak.
"So... you're magical?"
"I am a Fae," the Wisp answered simply. "Your kind know us as faeries."
"Oh." He didn't look like a fairy. "I thought that fairies were tiny creatures with butterfly wings who sit on cowslips and such."
"You're thinking of pixies. We get that all the time." He folded his arms and grunted. "Edmund Spenser has a lot to answer for!
"I... I never knew things like that were real."
"Well, they're not. They're quaint Victorian fictions. Arthur Conan Doyle has a lot to answer for too."
Cassandra decided she'd better change the subject before he started tearing into William Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde and Edward Bulwer Lytton as well. "So... you and that other girl are Miss Morrigan's slaves?"
"We are not slaves!" The Wisp composed himself. "The Witch compels us to serve her but we are not slaves! The fae are immortal and cannot be enslaved by lesser beings!" He rose from his seat and advanced towards the cage. "The Witch is a mortal. Every breath she takes brings her closer to death. When she is dust, then my sister and I shall be free!"
"Ah." Obviously she picked the wrong subject. Cassandra shifted her position which set the cage swinging again. "Um. would you mind letting me out so I could stretch my legs? It's kind of uncomfortable in here."
"Is the cold iron of the bars searing your mortal flesh?" Mist sneered.
"Um, not exactly..."
"Then you have nothing to complain about!" The Wisp returned to his seat sulkily.
A sudden understanding struck Cassandra. Wisp had once been imprisoned in this very cage. She recalled that fairies had a problem with iron. She could envision the poor creature, trapped and terrified in the agonizing confines of the iron cage as the witch taunted him.
"I'm sorry," Cassandra said meekly. "It must have been horrible for you."
The Wisp only grunted in reply.
"I don't suppose you'd care to bring me a drink of water? Please?" She also remembered that in Fairy-Land manners are as good as gold. Or was that another Victorian fiction? In any case, the “Please” couldn’t hurt.
The Wisp eyed her suspiciously, but rose and ambled to the kitchen. A few moments later he returned with the glass.
"Um, could you come a little closer?" Cassandra pleaded. She had a crazy idea.
Wisp made a face and inched a little closer to the iron bars of the cage, holding out the glass of water. Cassandra held her breath. She would only get one chance to try this.
She lunged and made a grab -- not for the cup of water, but for the amulet around Wisp's neck. The Wisp gave a startled shout and tried to jerk backwards, but Cassandra had a firm grasp on the amulet around his neck.
"Let go! Let go! It hurts!" the Wisp shouted.
"Stop struggling! I'm trying to help you! Duck your head!"
Wisp did so, and Cassandra yanked the amulet off his neck. The Wisp fell to the floor gasping and panting. Cassandra tumbled backwards, sending the cage swinging wildly.
The Wisp gradually caught his breath. Then he grasped his chest and patted himself. He dissolved and reformed in a standing position. "You freed me," he said.
"Yeah."
"You didn't have to do that."
"It... it seemed like the right thing to do."
Wisp stared at her for a while. Then he turned around and left the room. He returned wearing an oven mitt. He used the mitt to take the iron key from the wall and tossed the key to Cassandra. "I owe you nothing," he said. Then he dissipated again into a mist and fled from the cottage.
Cassandra knelt on the bottom of the cage staring at the key she clutched in her hands. Too late, she called out, "Thank you!"
* * * * *
"If your old girlfriend really wanted you to visit her," Devon grumbled as he forced Strephon's wheelchair over an obstructing tree root, "you'd think she'd make the effort to make her home wheelchair-accessible."
"Morrigan was never my girlfriend," Strephon replied peevishly. "Really, Devon, your remarks about my social life are becoming exceedingly tiresome!"
"Keep quiet," Tobias warned. He crept a few paces ahead of Strephon, watching and listening for any movement in the trees. He clenched a tire iron in his fist, just to be ready.
The three men had been advancing cautiously down the twisting path through Fellwood for five minutes. So far they had encountered no one, but Strephon knew they were being watched. He fingered one of his canes nervously.
"You realize, of course, that this is a trap," Devon said.
"Of course, it is."
"We should be going in with some kind of a plan."
"Since we have no idea what we'll find when we get there, any plans we make will be rendered moot anyway."
Tobias turned back to the two. "Maybe if you two talk a little louder the old witch won't have to turn up her hearing aid."
Devon and Strephon were silent for a moment. Then Devon added, "Uppity for a mortal, isn't he."
They proceeded in silence for a while, then Devon cursed. "Your wheelchair's caught on another blasted root." He shoved at the chair, but something held it back. "Hello! What's this?" Devon saw a tangle of vines growing up from the path and entwining themselves in the spokes of the wheelchair. "Earth magic. How typical."
Strephon twisted the handle of his cane, releasing the sword tip from the end. "Morrigan! Show yourself! We know you're out there!"
A shadow seemed to part like a curtain and the old witch appeared on the path before them, accompanied by a sullen-faced girl with leaden eyes. "You were told to come alone," Morrigan said.
"These friends are merely seeing to my safety," Strephon replied. "The forest at night is full of dangers. You wouldn't want any ill to fall upon me before you had the opportunity to inflict it yourself, now would you?" His tone cooled. "Where is Cassandra?"
"She is safe, for the moment."
"I will thank you to release her."
Morrigan smiled. "Tell your friends to withdraw."
Tobias glanced at Strephon. Strephon nodded, and Tobias lowered his tire iron and stepped back behind the wheelchair. Devon let go of the chair and moved aside to give him and the iron plenty of room. Then, Devon's body suddenly shifted into the form of a black panther which sprang at the witch.
"Devon! What are you doing?" Strephon shouted.
Before the panther could reach Morrigan, the girl stepped in front of her. A thin, piercing wail emitted from her lips. Devon shifted back into his human form in mid-spring and fell to the ground clutching his ears. Tobias charged to his aid, waving his tire iron like a club. The Banshee flinched at the cold iron of his weapon as he approached, but delivered another paralyzing scream. Before Tobias had crossed half the distance, his knees failed him and he too fell.
"That was very foolish," Morrigan chuckled. She stepped over the bodies of Tobias and Devon and advanced towards Strephon. "You are fortunate I am in a forgiving mood."
"What do you want?" Strephon asked.
"Why, you, of course! Many years ago I offered you my love and you rejected me. You crushed me, Strephon! You humiliated me!"
"I never meant to hurt you, Belle," Strephon said softly.
"Do not call me that!" Morrigan drew another amulet from the sleeve of her robe; the silver leaf and thorn amulet she had made, like the one the Banshee and the Wisp bore. Strephon raised his sword cane in defense. "Put that thing down," Morrigan scolded. "Remember, the trollop's life is in my hand. Submit to me and I will release her. Refuse me again, and she dies."
Strephon 's sword cane wavered in his hand. He considered a dozen bluffs, clever arguments and gambits. None of them would serve but to delay the inevitable. He lowered the sword.
"Put on the charm," Morrigan ordered, holding out the amulet to him.
Strephon hesitated. "Cassandra," he said.
"Yes," Morrigan cackled, "do it for Cassandra." The Banshee, however, turned in time to see what Strephon saw. Cassandra stood behind her. She made a grab for the Banshee's amulet.
"Cover your ears!" Strephon shouted. Cassandra ignored him and pulled at the Banshee's amulet. The Banshee gave another hideous cry that made Strephon's nerves want to crawl up out of his fingers, but Cassandra did little more than wince. She held a pair of tin snips in her other hand and, pulling the amulet taut, cut the chain fastening it around the Banshee's neck.
The Banshee fell over backwards. She picked herself up and felt around her neck. The leaden look had vanished from her eyes.
Morrigan faced Cassandra angrily. "You trollop! How dare you interfere!" Magic crackled in her hair and she raised her gnarled hands to cast a spell.
"The amulet, Strephon!" Cassandra cried. "Get her amulet!"
Strephon lunged forward and grabbed the amulet around Morrigan's neck. The crone screamed. Cassandra ran up and cut the amulet's golden chain with the tin snips and the iron ring holding the golden thorn and leaf fell to the ground.
Immediately, Wisp and Banshee appeared on either side of Morrigan and seized her by either arm. "What? No! Let go of me! You can't do this!" the witch protested.
"We serve you no longer," the Wisp said.
Banshee added, "Now you will serve us!"
The three vanished like mist.
Strephon blinked. "My. That was unexpected." He turned to Cassandra. "How did you escape? And how did you survive the Banshee's attack?"
"What?" Cassandra asked. "Sorry." She put her hand to her ear and picked a small piece of material from it. "Miss Morrigan had some wax on her workbench; for her jewelry-making I guess. I remembered the story of Odysseus..."
"...And you stopped up your ears! Clever girl!" Strephon laughed. "Never underestimate the benefits of a Classical education!"
NEXT: Fume, Fume, Fume
