Beyond the Gateway (Cranksepticeye)

Twenty-eight

"How could you not have suspected that there was something just a little bit different about him?" Ethan asked.
"Look at him!" Tim said. "He's so normal it's almost weird. No offense, Jack."
"Er, none taken. I guess." Jack muttered.
Ethan snorted. To his eyes, Jack was unspeakably lovely. "He is powerfully veiled, I grant you. A leprechaun charm-"
"Well, no shit, Sherlock!" Tim groused. "I can see it now."
"I would have thought a high Fae like you would have been able to figure it out." Ethan was rather enjoying himself.
Tim glared at the Jade. "My senses habe obviously been blunted by this world. I have been out of the loop for" -he counted on his fingers- "almost fifteen hundred years, you know!"
"Ah." Ethan nodded, almost feeling sympathetic. "I forget the story. You were, what, banished, was it?"
"In a manner of speaking." Tim sulked. "But it wasn't supposed to be permanent. I was supposed to be allowed back. After I had . . . 'served time.' And then what happens? Your stupid boss goes and shuts all the doors."
"You could have tried to get back," Ethan said. "Made a run for it one Samhain."
"And risk running into one of you bloodthirsty maniacs? Thank you, no."
"What did you get banished for in the first place?" Asked Jack, fascinated.
"Ask that Sir Lancelot creep," Timothy snapped. "Wait - no, don't. It was complicated." He waved the matter away with a well- manicured hand.
"Ookay there, Timothy . . . " Jack threw his hands in the air. "Is there anyone I know who is actually a normal, non-freaky, plain old vanilla-flavored hunan?"
"I'm sure that one or two of your actor friends are borderline normal," Tim answered, his tone doubting the assertion.
"They're actors," Jack said. "They're not even close to normal. And anyway, one of them is actually Puck. Apparently."
"What?" Tim's eyebrows shot toward his hairline. "The Goodfellow? Oh, super. Listen, you keep that miserable boucca away from the apartment, or I will not be held responsible for my actions."
Ethan smirked. "What, did he stand you up for a date once?"
"Shut up." Tim scowled at him. "Just what are you doing here, anyway?"
"I've come to take Jack somewhere safe," he said. "And after that, I'll be back to take the kelpie."
"Over my dead body," the Faerie sneered.
"I mean him no harm. I habe to return him to the Otherworld." He told Timothy about the Wild Hunt and watched his complexion drain to porcelain.
"Well. I think it's safe to say that in my absence, the power grabbing and backstabbing and political intrigue has officially reached an all-time Otherworld high," Tim said, rigid with anger. "This goes beyond bickering."
"It does," Ethan agreed. "Far beyond."
"I hate the Courts!" he spat. "Why can't they just leave off with all the stupid homicidal meddling?"
"I wish I knew," Ethan sympathized . He understood only too well. No doubt Timothy had experienced the fear and hatred of his lord's realm and its people in much the same way that he had been made to fear and hate Tim's. He considered that for a moment and thought that just perhaps, just this once, they could put aside differences and work as allies. Maybe he would be willing to help.
Or, more likely, maybe he would help Jack.
Ethan suggested a plan.

"You want me to do what?"
"Just get all the charms unknotted from Lucky's mane and tail," Ethan pleaded .
Tim crossed his arms and pegged Ethan with a pointed, icy stare. "They're tied in with elf-knots. Do you have any idea how long that will take?"
"Tim-"
"Days, Jade boy. I have a social life to maintain, you know. I have a date with an ambassador and yoh want me to cancel it si I can sit alone in this apartment, performing an equine comb-out."
"Timothy . . . please? Once I get Jack to the safe house and secure protection for him, I don't know how much tim I will have before Samhain falls."
"That's three nights from now!"
"I'm taking him to the Green, and time is tricky there, You know that."
"How many of the dammed things are there, anyway?"
Ethan thought he could hear a note of relenting in Tim's voice and he pressed on. "I asked Cait - one of the other Jade - about the enchantment. She knows her magicks and she figures that there should be nine times nine tailsmans. Eighty-one all together. I have three of them. Which means there should be seventy-eight stones left."
"Couldn't you just rip them out? Like the ones you found at the Lake?" Jack asked.
"I tend to think Lucky would react poorly to that, don't you? Mild-mannered he might be, but one well-placed kick from those hooves could be deadly."
"What about cutting them out?" he asked.
"Can't." Tim's voice was flat. "'Cause that would be cheating. Right, Jade boy?"
"Timothy's right, Jack. Magick like this tends to react poorly - dangerously - if one tries to . . . well, cheat. There aren't really any shortcuts - our only hope is to untie all the knots. The spell has to be completely unraveled, or there is still the chance it will remain potent." He turned again to Tim.
"I hate you." Tim glared at him.
"And?" Jack demanded anxiously from where he'd sat silently on the couch, listening to the negotiations. "If all the tailsmans are removed?"
Ethan looked at hum. "Then he should pose no threat of becoming the Roan Horse of the Hunt."
"He'll just revert to a normal, garden-variety kelpie." Jack was skeptical.
"Like I told you, I don't think Lucky is very normal, as far as kelpie go." Ethan smiled at him. "In fact, your Lucky is the sweetest-tempered monster I've ever encountered. I think some of your nature must have imprinted on him when you rescued him, Jack."
Jack looked at him. "Did you just call me sweet?"
" Maybe . . ."
"Oh, get a room you two," Tim said, disgusted, and went to the cupboard in the bathroom. He pulled a large-toothed comb and several brushes out of a basket, eyeing Lucky's shiny, potentially deadly accoutrements.
"Thank you, Timothy," Ethan said with genuine gratitude and respect, relief flooding his chest. He would habe time. Jack would be safe, and he could return Lucky to the Otherworld without fear, and the Wild Hunt would slumber on.
"I hate you, Ethan Nestor." Timothy said.
"Just remember to keep his hooves wet. At least until all the charms are untied."
"Hate you."
"All of them - the ones in his tail, too. Seventy-eight in all. And I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised. "Jack . . ." Ethan turned to him. "You should get ready so we can leave."
"What? Where?" Jack blinked, startled.
"Out," he answered. "If you're all right with that."
"But it's almost sunset. Aren't you . . . you know, on duty?"
"I was curious about that too, Jade boy," Tim said over his shoulder as he sat on the side of the tub, worrying away at a knot. "It is the middle of the Nine-Night, after all. Aren't you a little too busy to be going on a date?"
Beside Ethan, Jack stiffened and made a little squawking noise.w
"I told you, I'm taking him to the Green, so I'll be within the boundaries of the Gate," Ethan said . "I'll still be 'on duty.' "
"I can't beleive you want to take him to Central Park," Tim said, "tonight."
"He'll be safe with me."
"You hope." Tim gave Ethan a long appraising look and seemed to be coming to a decision about him.
"Jack?" Ethan said to him, ignoring Tim's critical eye. "Why don't you go get dressed?"
"Make it something nice," Tim said, turning back to Lucky. "Wait - never mind - you don't have anything nice." He put the comb down. "I'll get you something of mine."