Page 53 of First Snow

He grabs for the knife still in his pocket and stabs her blindly. At this point, he doesn’t care if he accidentally kills her. He needs her to let him go. Arttu buries the knife up to the handle in Phyllis’ belly.

Phyllis lets out a satisfying shriek and lets go of him. He falls to his knees in the snow, his body shaken by helpless coughs. But he still has enough sense to keep hold of the knife and pull it out as he sinks to the ground. Stinking black blood gushes from her abdominal wound. Arttu scrambles away. That has to be it. No one just shrugs off a wound like that.

She grunts and looks down at herself with mild surprise. Then she surges forward.

Chapter 18

Jareth

Jarethwakeswithastart, a feeling of dread settling in his stomach. He fell asleep with Arttu in his arms, needing the rest to heal the injury Ajatar had inflicted on him. But now Arttu has vanished from their cozy little nest in front of the fireplace, and Jareth can feel that someone intruded on his property. Again. He sleepily stumbles through the house looking for Arttu, but he only finds what he already knew. Arttu has disappeared. A dark premonition creeps over Jareth.

Hurriedly, he puts on his boots and forgoes his coat, then steps out of the large oaken doors. It has begun to snow again, and the sky has darkened completely. Nevertheless, Jareth can make out a few footprints leading from the doorstep into the forest. His heart clenches. What on earth could have made Arttu leave the house and go out into the cold? Was he fleeing from someone? But Jareth would have sensed if someone had entered the house. Did Arttu just want to take a little walk and got lost, then? The innocuous explanation for his absence stands in stark contrast to the danger Jareth can sense. He quickens his steps and runs up a slope, following the tracks under the conifers.

The trees get thicker with every step, and it doesn’t take long until Jareth loses the trail. His palms feel clammy despite the cold. It can’t be a coincidence that Arttu’s footprints are no longer visible. Did Arttu try to outrun someone? Another disturbing thought occurs to Jareth. Maybe Arttu is trying to get rid of him? Does he remember how Jareth fought the spirit last night? After the little spell Jareth used to help him go back to sleep, that should be impossible, but he can’t be sure.

Before Jareth’s thoughts can spiral out of control, the smell of blood hits his nose. He takes off running without caring that his glamour slips. His magic is ready to attack whatever threat might present itself. Because Jareth knows whose blood he’s smelling. It’s Arttu’s.

Crossing the grove, Jareth finds himself on the edge of a glade. He stops dead in his tracks.

Phyllis looks up at him, an elated smile spreading over her face. There is blood smeared over her ashen face, and her white dress is covered in a black substance. More of her dark fairy blood. Phyllis’ claws are sunken into Arttu’s upper arm as she drags him along. Jareth feels a low growl reverberate in his chest. He wants nothing more right now then to disembowel her.

“Lord Blackrose,” Phyllis greets him. She seems thrilled to see him, and that makes Jareth wary. She can’t be mad enough to think that Jareth will let her get away with hurting Arttu. Why is she so confident?

Arttu’s blue eyes widen as he looks up at Jareth. His hands are tied sloppily in front of him, and he looks battered but not badly injured. Jareth can sense Arttu’s breath hitching as he takes in Jareth’s Fae features, but Arttu doesn’t avert his gaze. Jareth has no idea how Arttu got himself into a fight with a bone fairy, but he’s obviously responsible for Phyllis’ injuries. Jareth is proud of him. Still, the question stands what Arttu was doing out here in the first place.

Something in Arttu’s stance shifts as if he’s preparing to attack.

“Don’t even think about it. Try to run, and I’ll break your legs,” Phyllis hisses before Jareth can intervene.

She gives Arttu a rough shove, kicking his legs from under him in the same motion. Arttu falls to his knees, making a muffled sound of pain. It’s all Jareth can do not to attack the bone fairy on the spot, but he has to be careful if he wants to prevent Phyllis from hurting his beloved more. Jareth watches with a sense of dread as Phyllis’ claws close around Arttu’s throat. She forces Arttu to lift his chin.

Jareth strides down the hill towards them. He needs to get Phyllis away from Arttu.

“I’ve got a present for you, my Lord,” Phyllis says reverently. “Do you know who you let into your house?”

“What are you talking about?” Jareth growls.

He’s so angry, but at the same time he feels a sense of unease wash over him as he takes in Arttu’s pale face. Sure, Arttu’s shock could be from seeing Jareth in his Fae form, but shouldn’t it at least reassure him a little that his lover is coming to his defense? But all Jareth can see in Arttu’s eyes is something very close to fear.

“What did he tell you his name was again?” Phyllis grins.

“Arttu Nurmi.” Jareth decides to humor her and lull her into a sense of security.

Phyllis giggles at his words. “Oh, but he’s a liar.” She looks down at Arttu, her grip around his neck tightening. “Aren’t you Detective Palosaari?”

Detective? Jareth feels as if the ground is being pulled out from under his feet. No, Arttu works as an accountant. Phyllis must be mistaken, or she’s trying to mess with him.

The more rational part of him is instantly on high alert, because it makes sense for a Finnish detective to seek him out after two Finnish citizens have been killed, doesn’t it? Jareth has been the Met’s prime suspect after all. And the way Arttu looks at him… He’s scared, yes, but he’s also determined, ready to fight. And he doesn’t deny Phyllis’ words. By the Goddess of Night, how could Jareth have been so blind?

“Is it true?” Jareth asks, turning fully to Arttu. He keeps his voice cold, although he hates the way Arttu flinches.

Arttu gives him a stubborn glare but remains silent.

“Not so confident anymore, are you?” Phyllis taunts.

She leans down to pull two objects from Arttu’s pocket and tosses one over. Jareth catches it on reflex. It’s a cell phone. Of course, Jareth can’t unlock it, but he doesn’t have to. He knows what Arttu’s phone looks like. This one is a different model.

“Also, he has stolen the knife you took from the lair of the sorcerer, you remember? The one who called himself Mikael Laine,” Phyllis says, holding up the other object. Apuukkoknife wrapped in a plastic bag.