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A fairie revel.
In the middle of LA.
Shit.
Kit had never heard of a revel outside of faerieland. Especially not in the middle of a city, full of iron. “How is that possible?” He hissed. He, Ash, and Ty had huddled by the wall, trying to pretend that they were a part of the table that Dru was currently stuck sitting on a metal chair. She was really stuck, too. Kit had tried to pull her off already, being as subtle as he could. It was as if she was glued tight to it. Well, actually, ‘magicked’ was a better word for it. It reminded Kit of the time Magnus had used his magic to tie him and Ty to a tree. She couldn’t even lift her arms off the table, and she was starting to doze off.
She was also murmuring and giggling things that made no sense. Like she was drunk. The werewolf they had come to see, was passed out by when they got there. If Kit looked around, he would see that almost everyone else stuck at tables, were fast asleep. Ash and Kit kept pinching Dru, or tugging her hair, to keep her awake. Kit wondered how much longer it would work.
“It shouldn’t be,” Ash said, he still had a deadly grip on both Kit and Ty. Every now and then Ty would give a funny look at the band. “The city is too full of iron for there to be enough faerie magic to hold a revel. Especially one strong enough to hold this many Downworlders.” Ash shook his head, “It doesn’t make sense.” Kit tried to rack his brain around it.
“Maybe it’s not a revel,” Ty said, suddenly, he was looking at the band again. Kit was doing his best to ignore them, the music was still making his head pound, and his vision swim. “What?” He managed. Ty pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I said, maybe it’s not a revel,” Ty repeated. He was taking a picture of the band, Kit realized.
“What else would it be?” Ash hissed, his voice sharp. Kit gave him a pointed look. He knew that Ash was only worried about Dru, but Ty didn’t know that. His parabatai looked away, but gave Kit’s arm a squeeze. “A demon. Look at this,” Ty said, apparently he hadn’t noticed Ash’s tone. Ty held up his phone, Kit leaned in to look at the picture he had taken. It was the band. “What am I looking at?” Kit asked.
Ty zoomed in on the pianist. “Look at him,” For a second, Kit had no idea what he was talking about. Then he noticed, the pianist was slumped over on the bench, his eyes closed. Kit risked a glance up to the band on the stage. The pianist hadn’t moved. Only his fingers pushed the keys, but his chest did not rise and fall. Kit turned back to Ty, “Is he dead?”
“I think so. But look what's on the cello players feet,” Ty moved the picture, so Kit could see the black lines that wrapped up the players ankles and disappeared under his pant legs. Kit could barely make it out on the pixelated screen, but he could have sworn they were vines. Black vines, as thin as a blade of grass. “Do you know what this is?” He asked Ty.
Ty shrugged, “I have an idea. I’ve read about demons like this, they feed off magic. Which explains all the Downworlders. The demon controls his already dead prey, like a puppet, to lure in more.” Kit shivered. “So, the demon controls the band, makes them play music that keeps more Downworlders stuck here, dancing,” He looked at Ty for confirmation, he nodded.
Ash grunted, “So they are stuck dancing. That is not the problem, I can stop some faerie music. But why is Drusilla stuck in this chair?” He snapped his fingers by Dru’s ear. She jerked her head back up, but her eyes were drooping closed already. She murmured something unintelligible. Ty shook his head, “I’m not sure. The demon could have gotten a hold of a warlock.” He licked his lips. “I’ve never seen this breed of demon before, though. They’re indigiounous to the jungles of Asia,”
“Well, it’s a long way from home,” Kit muttered. His head was swimming, the music was pulling at him again. He was glad for Ash’s iron grip, and even more iron faerie resistance to the music. He turned to his parabatai, “You said you can get rid of the music?” Ash nodded. “Good,” Kit said, “Do that. But not yet, we need to find this demon, first.” Kit squinted at the band on the other side of the ballroom. He could just make out the black vines snaking through the performers, trailing along the back of the stage, then up along the walls. He lost it when it went through the plants hanging from the walls and the rafters. The roof, he thought.
“It’s on the roof,” Ty beat him to it. He looked at Kit, “You and I should go up there, and keep it busy while Ash takes care of the music. I can see some warlocks stuck dancing. If we can wake them up from the trance, maybe they can undo the spell on the chairs.” Ty was holding himself taller. He was being a leader and a strategist, like a centurion.
Ash nodded, “Will you two be alright? If I let you go?” He was looking at Kit. He nodded. “As long as we hurry out the door, and I hold on to Ty,” He lowered his voice so only Ash could hear. “I think I have enough faerie in me, to be okay,” He assured him. He tried to send how he felt through his gaze, through their impenetrable bond. Ash pressed his lips together, his face pale and grim, but his brilliant green eyes were steady.
“How are you going to stop the music?” Kit whispered, Ash let a wicked grin come over his face, sliding a seraph blade out of his pocket. “Simple. You can’t play music, without any instruments,” Kit almost laughed. But instead, he reached up and squeezed his brother’s arm. “I’ll see you on the other side, yeah?” Ash nodded, once, “Yeah,” His voice sounded tight.
Kit turned back to Ty, who was giving him an odd look. “Ready?” He asked. Ty only grabbed his hand. Despite the circumstances, Kit felt a flutter fly through his chest. With one final look at Ash, they broke apart. Kit and Ty going one way, Ash the other. It was a good thing they were already near the door. Because as Kit and Ty rounded the dance floor, Ty tugged at Kit. “Kit…” He whispered. “We should dance.”
Kit didn’t look at him. “Cover your ears,” Was all he said, doing his best to block out the music, he stared straight at the exit. Even as his head felt like it would split in two. His steps felt lighter with every step away from the music he took, until they were bursting through the door, into the midnight air.
They were panting, Kit felt like he had just run a marathon through jello. “I feel like I can breathe again,” Ty muttered, Kit grunted in agreement. He hadn’t even noticed how hot and unbearable it had been in there, not until the cold night breeze had graced his neck. He looked back at Ty, he was pushing his hair back. Wiping the sweat of his brow, loosening his tie. He caught Kit’s gaze. “The roof?” He asked, his silver eyes catching the light of the moon.
Kit cleared his throat, “Yeah. Yeah, to the roof.” He pushed his shoulders back and began the climb up the wall. Sometimes it was weird, how much stronger he was now. Just a couple of years ago, he wouldn’t have been able to climb three feet. Now, he was scaling a twenty foot warehouse with remarkable ease.
He smelt the demon before he saw it. Like rotten eggs. Sulfur. It made him gag. He and Ty pulled themselves, silently, over the concrete ledge of the roof. He could hear it, too. Hunkered in the corner. A hulking black, slimy shape. Like an oversized bear, with tendrils slivering out of its nose and down through a gaping hole in the roof. Kit could just hear music filtering in from below. At least, Kit hoped it was it’s nose. But he had a sinking suspicion that it was not.
The demon was bent over something, or rather, someone, slobering and smacking its great maw. It was so focused on its meal, that it didn’t notice as Ty and Kit pulled their seraph blades out from the inside of their jackets. Kit looked at Ty, waiting. Ty looked grimly at the beast, then pointed to himself, and the ledge on the side.
He was going to go around.
He pointed at Kit, then at the demon.
He wanted Kit to get it’s attention.
Kit nodded, once. Raziel knew, if there was one thing Kit was good at, it was a distraction.
He waited until Ty had soundlessly made it to the other side of the roof, Kit lost sight of him in the shadows. He took a deep breath, and named his blade, “Nakir,” Kit held his fingers to his lips, and whistled. The demon snapped its giant head towards him. The tendrils definitely were not coming from his nose. “HEY!” He yelled. “SORRY TO INTERRUPT YOUR MEAL, BUT I GOT A BONE TO PICK WITH YOU!”
The demon dropped his snack, the body hit the roof with a sicking crack. It huffed, it’s hot breath turning to steam in the cold air. It let out a roar, and charged at Kit. For a split second, all Kit thought was, Well, distracting it was much easier than I thought. Then he remembered the giant, Downworlder eating, demon in front of him.
Kit threw himself to the side, rolling across the roof. The demon narrowly missed him with its snapping jaw. Kit swiped a wide arc at the demon, and missed by a mile. He swiped again, rising to his feet. He missed again. The demon lunged toward him, and Kit leaped back. It snapped its tendrils at him, Kit ducked and jumped, barely avoiding the razor sharp ends. Distantly, Kit noticed the music had stopped.
Kit cut through the air, the blade burned through a few black tendrils. The demon shrieked, and lunged forward, swiping a claw through the air. Kit stumbled back, the claw slicing through his red tie. “Rude,” Kit hissed, ducking another claw. He was getting backed against a corner, yet Ty was nowhere to be found. Kit stabbed again at the demon, but it evaded easily. For something so large, it was surprisingly agile.
Suddenly, Kit’s heel hit a rock, his foot sliding forward and then he was falling back. He landed with a thud, the breath knocking out of him. The demon screamed it’s victory, it’s gaping maw swinging toward him. Kit saw his life flash before his eyes, and he thought, this is it. He squeezed his eyes shut.
This close, he could smell the blood on the demon’s mouth, mixed with it’s reek of sulfur. Kit prepared for the end. A shout burst from ahead of him, and then the smell was gone. Kit opened an eye, finding the demon gone. In its place, a heap of dust. Standing over it, panting, his suit jacket gone and his white sleeves rolled up to reveal pale arms and dark runes, was Ty Blackthorn. Seraph blade still blazing in his hand. He looked frantically at Kit, and ran to his side.
“Are you okay?” He looked Kit up and down, as he pushed himself to his elbows, “Are you hurt?” Ty asked, already pulling out his stele. Kit looked at Ty, finding him in one piece. “Just my pride,” He said, leaning on his elbow. He hissed as pain laced through him. “I take it back,” He muttered, “I hit my arm pretty good.”
Ty furrowed his brow, and took Kit’s arm in his gentle hands and long fingers. He touched it gently, Kit hissed through his teeth at the tenderness. “You’ve sprained it.” Ty explained, rolling up Kit’s sleeve.
He was silent while Ty slowly, carefully, drew an Iratze on his forearm. “I’m sorry,” Ty said, quietly. Kit waited for him to continue. “I should have been faster. But I-you were fighting and you were doing really good and I got distracted and then you were suddenly on the ground and-” He squeezed his eyes shut.
Kit’s mouth quirked up in the corner. “You got distracted by me?” He asked. Ty ducked his head. Kit could have sworn his cheeks were turning red. “We should check on the others.” Ty ignored Kit’s question, and stood, holding out his hand. Kit took it and let Ty pull him up on his feet. Together, they crept to the edge of the hole in the roof. Kit peered inside. No one was dancing. They were sitting on the floor, massaging their feet. Kit could make out Ash’s silver hair as he walked around the room with a warlock, slowly undoing the spell on the chairs. He could see Dru, bandaging a Vampires bleeding feet.
“So, do we report this to the Institute, or to Alec?” Kit asked. Ty shrugged, “Well, it’s pretty big, and that demon shouldn’t have been here. So probably Alec. Do you have his number?” He looked at Kit, who sighed. “I mean, yeah. But, it’s Saturday night. I don’t want to be the one to call and ruin his family dinner with all of this.” He gestured to the mess below.
To his surprise, Ty huffed a laugh. “We could always give it an hour.” He suggested. Kit smirked, “We sure could.”