I tried to pull the spear out of Kerry’s chest, but he just collapsed on it and ignited. Supposedly his Russell Crow suit was very flammable; globs of flaming plastic shot everywhere. The heat from the burning king was intense.

“Get me out of here,” yelled Fiacuil.

The beef-jerky zombies, suddenly discovering their new found independence started to attack everything around them. I looked around, bewildered. The warrior with the man-bun hair was crawling out of his cage. It had fallen and busted open. With an iron bar in his hands he was laying into the closest zombies, cotton candy, amongst other things, went flying through the air. He seemed really, really good with that bar.

“How?” I shouted turning my attention back to Fiacuil.

“Up on the stand, there’s a consol. I saw him press a button.”

I ran up the stairs onto the platform where Kerry’s first throne was. Helga was back up and desperately avoiding the troll’s club which was making great scything sweeps. Fortunately, some of the cotton candy people were wrapped around the troll's legs. They were also trying to get behind Helga.

“Behind you,” I shouted a warning. Helga was able to summersault out of the way.

The troll’s club smashed into one of the zombies and it collapsed around the club and went sailing through the air.

From the platform I had a great vantage point, and could even see behind the castle backdrop. I realized how much trouble we really were in. Behind were a dozen more immense cages, with creatures that made the troll look insignificant. Fortunately, they were still in their cages.

“Fionn,” shouted Fiacuil, “the button.”

In desperation I started pressing all the buttons, which was the worst thing I could have done. True, Fiacuil’s cage door sprung open, but so did the all the cages behind the back drop. Simultaneously it started to snow inside the auditorium, and the rink ice began to melt.

The warrior with the man bun had created a path of plastic destruction around him and was making his way down to what was now looking more like a swimming pool than a rink, which was, fortunately for me, only ankle deep. I didn’t know how to swim, which was rather embarrassing. It wasn’t for mom’s lack of trying. Every so often she would enroll me in swimming classes, but the result was always the same. My muscles would seize up and I would sink like a rock. In my head I was doggy paddling like mad, but in reality, I just sank.

“Get out of there,” shouted Fiacuil wading into the water which was now, inexplicably waist deep.

Vibrating with the ferocious battles that were happening there, the backdrop suddenly shredded apart. Stringy red beasts of all descriptions splashed into the pool. One creature with the body of a lion and the head of an eagle ripped into a monster that had multiple snake heads. It tore a head off and sent it sailing through the air where it fell, plastic venom pooling out in a green water cloud right by my feet.

Helga was able to separate herself from the troll because it had been attacked by the eagle-lion thing. Bruised and beaten she swam over to where I was. Treading water, which was now well over my head, she held out a hand. “Will, let’s go.”

It felt good, someone calling me by the only name I was really comfortable with.

“I can’t swim.”

The water was now up to the second rung on the platform steps. Where was all the water coming from?

“That’s all right, just get in the water. I have my NLS.”

That was nice, if I knew what NLS stood for I might have been comforted.

“I sink like a rock.”

Then, as I hesitated the platform shuddered and began to collapse. The troll had crashed into one of the main supports. I jumped, and as predicted, sank.

Helga embraced me in her loving arms and when I began to flail about she gave me a sharp rap on the back of the head nearly knocking me out.

The next thing I was conscious of was being pressed against the glass walls of the Kerry center as the water rose. Then Fiacuil was there fighting with the warrior with the man bun. They were trying their best to drown each other.

Helga must have gotten distracted or maybe it was because she was totally exhausted that we both began to sink. No longer able to hold herself and me up, she gazed at me apologetically, shook her head and abandoned me. While I sank I was treated to the view of her legs kicking for the surface. There was no sense in both of us drowning.

I must have been made of stone or something, because I had no buoyancy. Looking up I saw Fiacuil and Man Bun thrashing about along with myriad other legs that were also pumping like crazy. Maybe if I had been made of plastic I would have floated. I was going to have to breathe in the water soon, and then it would be all over.

Then Bovmall was there, on the other side of the glass, still in wolf form. She had the arm of one of the plastic zombie gargoyles between her jaws. I pounded on the glass and motioned to her that I was about to drown, and she turn tail and ran away. My last hope was fleeing with her hind quarters, and then she turned and charged the glass. With all the acceleration she could muster she was going to throw all of her weight against the window in an attempt to smash it. She was going to break her neck. At the last moment, she leapt, turned sideways and slammed broadside into the glass. By herself I doubted her weight would have been enough to break it, but just before she hit, a blue magical aura enveloped her. The impact made the entire pane of glass detonate like an explosion, and the water, in a rushing torrent flooded out onto the cement square that surrounded the center.

I lay gasping, grateful for the air. Aunt Bovmall, back in her human form, lay unconscious on the ground. There was blood running from her nose and ear, never a good sign. Fiacuil gave Mr. Man Bun one parting kick, making sure he was also unconscious before ambling over to join us. Helga, hair and tattered clothing matted to her form, limped over tentatively. They both were expecting the worst.

“Is she...” whispered Fiacuil and then wrapped himself around the fallen form of his lanky wife. He lifted her up, threw back his big, shaggy head and howled at the sky. “She’s dead, Noooo...”

Then Bovmall coughed and opened her eyes. “Did you hear the song of the Banshee, you big dolt? I’m not dead, and if you keep howling like that you’ll be wishing I was.”

Fiacuil went to put her down but she shook her head. “Not dead doesn’t negate the fact that I almost died. I need to heal. Don’t you be putting me down.”

“Never,” sobbed Fiacuil.

Right then and there I wasn’t thinking about anything except how much these strange people were coming to mean to me. It wasn’t so long ago that other than my mom, I had no family. Now I was the inheritor of the craziest, homicidal relatives anyone could have desired.

Bovmall gave me a weak smile. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to get you back to your mom. I have to heal. I’m so sorry.”

“I’ll take you to the cave,” bawled Fiacuil.

She reached up and tenderly touched his wet, bushy beard. “Oh, shut up you big oaf and take me home.”

Fiacuil turned and began to trudge away.

Why didn’t I follow? Maybe it was because what was going on here was private and I had no business inserting myself into that. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned, and Helga was there.

“Helga...” I started to say, but her icy glare stopped my tongue.

“Don’t ever call me that.”

“H? I’ve got to call you something.”

She gave a terse nod and her features softened. “H is fine.”

Mr. Man Bun gave a groan and started to show signs of movement.

H looked nervous. “We’ve got to get away from here.”

I had no disagreements with that. The sooner we got away from the Kerry Center the better. After we crested and descended the ridge from which we had launched our attack, I turned to H.

“Thanks, back there. I don’t know if I would have made it without you.”

“Oh, that, of course you wouldn’t have, but yeah...you’re welcome.” She paused and seemed to be considering something on the ground, even though when I looked I could see nothing. She looked at me, eyes so open and stark as though all illusion or pretence had been stripped away. It troubled me. “Thanks for coming for me.”

“You’re welcome.” We began to walk. Where? I hadn’t a clue, nor did I really care; the moment with H was enough. I urgently wanted to get back and protect my mom from Cliodhna, but part of me believed that if I just kept walking with H, then everything would be all right.

“Why did you do it?” she asked not looking at me but scanning the horizon.

“It was the right thing to do.”

She scratched her head and looked at me with a sideway, curious expression. “The right thing to do... If you haven’t noticed, not too many people in Faerie consider much about right and wrong.”

“I was meaning to ask you that. I mean, is everyone from Faerie certifiably insane?”

She laughed. She had a nice smile, and then the smile faded into the flat line of the neurotic. “I’m from Faerie.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Sorry about that.”

Grinning she reached out and took my hand. It was totally unexpected and the shock of electricity that shot through my hand and up into my arm was startling.

“That’s all right; I got out while I could, while I was still sane. Those who stay here too long...well, you’re right, they do go insane. Look at Kerry.”

“Why?”

 “I really don’t know.”

“I guess that says a lot about Fiacuil.”

She stared at me, searching. “You,” she wagged her finger, “you are very funny. Has anyone told you that before?”

“Funny, hah hah, or funny peculiar?”

She thought about it for a moment and then gave herself a nod to the internal conclusion she had just reached. “Both.”

“Right.” I looked down at our hands. “I suppose this means you’re my girl friend.”

Giving me a smart bunch in the arm, she broke away from me and ran a little way along the path we had been following. I chased. A thought slipped into my mind, maybe, when I caught her, if I caught her, maybe I should give her a kiss.

H stopped suddenly.

“You need to know something.”

Oh, great. She’s married, or has a number of ex-boyfriends I’m going to have to fight to the death or something.

“What is it?”

“I’m a lot older than you.”

“I figured that.”

“No, I’m over a hundred of your years.”

I scratched my head. “I never thought of having a centenarian as a girl friend.”

She smiled, so, I thought that was the right thing to say.

“Back at the Kerry Center, why was Fiacuil fighting Mr. Man Bun?”

 She stopped and stared at me, taking both her hands in mine. A silence that presaged something important settled about us. “His name is Goll Mor Mac Morna, the man who killed your father.”