The Dire King (Jackaby #4)(27)
“You built . . . down?” I said. “You mean you dug it into the earth? How is that a tower and not a tunnel?”
“Ach, tha’s easy.” Nudd grinned with all his pointy teeth. “It’s got windows.”
“If you don’t mind,” Jackaby interrupted. “What are you really doing here?” he asked the twain.
“Watching,” it replied with a shrug. “Waiting.”
Nudd snarled something that did not sound like respectable discourse, even for a goblin, and added, “Dinna trust a twain.”
“Well,” said Jackaby, still addressing the twain, “make yourself useful or make yourself scarce.”
“Scarce as scarce can be,” said the twain, his gaze hollow. “I am the last and the only.” And in a blink he was suddenly gone. Jackaby’s eyes darted around the room, and then he scowled. It was his grudgingly impressed scowl.
“Instantaneous transtemporal dislocation,” he said. “No incantations or powders. You weren’t kidding. That’s serious raw magic.”
“Told ye,” said Nudd. “Dinnae need charms or curses, them ones. No fiddlin’ wi’ chants or spellbooks. If they wants summat ta be, then it be. Give me th’ jeebies. Ye only ever see a twain at th’ big times.”
“Big times?” said Hudson.
“Aye. Big times. The beginnin’ times. The end times. Times fra’ which history don’ bounce back again.” There was a collective moment of silence in the library. “Iffin’ we got a twain on our side, ’tis nae a good sign. An’ iffin’ we’ve go’ a twain against us . . .” He let the sentence die off.
“Well. Let’s hope he’s on our side then, shall we?” said Jackaby. “We find ourselves on the precipice of a war we do not want to fight. The question is, how do we avoid it?”
“No,” I said. I found myself suddenly the center of attention. “He was right. The war is already here. The precipice on which we find ourselves is that of a choice we do not want to make.” I took a deep breath. “But we cannot afford to avoid it. Either we engage the Dire King on our own terms now—or we allow him to engage us on his.”
I felt my voice quaver in the hush of the library, but I continued. “Mayor Spade thinks he is making a stand for his city. He’s paranoid, but his fear is not unfounded. The Dire King brought the battle to New Fiddleham. Spade is allowing fear to drive him to hatred and injustice, which means that the Dire King is already winning the first battle. When the veil weakens, when the Annwyn begins to cross over into the earth, the otherworlders will be met with Spade’s hate. That’s exactly what the Dire Council wants. The first battlefield isn’t a place; it’s a point of view.”
Jackaby pursed his lips silently. His gaze darkened. He did not disagree.
“Mayor Spade is fighting a war,” I went on, “but he’s been fighting it blind, and so have we. The Dire Council has been so much cleverer every step of the way. Every time we thought we had won a battle, we had only helped stoke the fires of their growing war machine. Remember my first case with you, sir? What do you know about redcaps?”
Jackaby blinked, finding himself unexpectedly in his element. “They survive off the fresh blood of their victims. Typically found in the ruins of castles. Very solitary, antisocial creatures.”
“And where did we find ours?”
“Running for political office in the middle of a vibrant metropolis,” he answered.
“Right,” I said. “How long did the council expect a redcap to last in the public eye before his bloodlust got the better of him? He was a pawn. He was meant to be exposed. They wanted the spectacle.”
Charlie winced. “And I gave it to them. When I transformed in the square.”
“That was nothin’ to the spectacle I gave ’em,” Hudson added mournfully. “Them transformin’ critters they set loose on those high society folks. They was lookin’ to cause trouble then, too. You almost had that one under wraps until I bungled it for everybody. Instead of a couple creepy critters in a swanky party, we wound up with a full-grown dragon screamin’ outta the sky.” He waggled his hook by way of illustration. The hand he didn’t have was a harsh reminder.
“I’m the one who floated straight into the mayor’s own house and tore a hole through his wall catching that nixie,” Jenny added. “Spade was horrified. I saw his face. I didn’t even care. It just felt good to feel strong for once. That was what put him over the edge. If anyone tipped the scales toward public panic it was me.”
“It’s not a competition,” I said.
Jackaby groaned. “Although if it were, I think we all know who would be winning it. I’ve devoted my adult life to drawing attention to the dangers of the supernatural world all around us.” He grimaced, clenching his eyes shut. “All those times Marlowe hushed up my cases to avoid alarming the public, he was actually right. An alarmed public is precisely what the Dire King wants.” He leaned heavily on the table. “I begin to feel I may have been remiss in hiding those banana slugs in Marlowe’s desk drawer. And for drawing that monocle and mustache on his portrait in the station house. And for taking out that newspaper advertisement in his name, requesting donations of foreign cheeses be sent to his home address.”