by Elle Cross
And it was more than the fact that Ophelia carried the coins on her to be examined by a practitioner friend of hers. Immortelle knew that Ophelia was likely the only hope that these pixies had to save their race.
Once they were past the barrier, and went up to the upper levels to the train tracks, it was like sound filled her ears immediately. Announcements and the kinetic energy of people. Even without them in view, she knew they were there. Others.
This was really a thing.
"Where was that? A pocket?"
"I like to call it a shadow realm, but you can call it what you want. Fairy paths. Loops. It technically doesn't exist."
"Is it weird that I want to call it subspace?"
"Yes, it would be weird, especially given the BDSM connotation of the term."
Immortelle blushed. She didn't mean that at all. "Okay, scratch finding a name."
"Good. Ah, here's our train!"
And just like that, the both of them were just two women running toward a subway train on a busy platform just like any other in the height of rush hour.
When they arrived at the fabled intersection of the Arapax, the sharp triangle edge of the building, Immortelle felt oddly at home.
"Thank you for ferrying me here."
"Not a problem."
“So, you want to meet here tonight? After you’ve made your...inquiries,” Immortelle asked, referring to the coins.
“How about another Sanctuary? One I know in Midtown.”
“Trinity Stone Cathedrals?” Immortelle asked.
“Yes! I see you are familiar.” Ophelia winked at her. “I’ll catch you later. I know we’re going to find out all the good things, don’t you worry, hun.”
Immortelle pushed through Arapax Hotel’s front doors, but Ophelia didn't follow behind her. In fact, there was no sign of her.
Where had she gone?
"Ms. Lucy?" Spencer's deep voice of black velvet night rang out through the lobby.
Immortelle fidgeted with her hair, and didn't want to look around. She already felt eyes on her. "Spencer! It is such a pleasure to see you."
"It feels like it has been a while, though it has barely been a week. Come, I shall see to your suite personally."
“Oh, that's not necessary, I think I know the suite."
"Please, I insist. Only the best service for Carte Blanche customers. Private suite."
“And here I thought I would have had to wrangle that information from you.”
"This is a way that will ensure your privacy and security. Henrick didn't like knowing that an assassin so easily circumvented the policies here."
"Yeah, what with the Fae, and all. That would have been uncomfortable. Did you have to field a lot of questions from prospective tenants about it? The fact that this is a Fae-run sanctuary and the fact that it was a Fae assassin?"
“Thankfully no one had those types of questions. Come. You must be looking forward to some rest and food."
Immortelle knew when she was trying to be fielded, so she let it go. It was easier to go with the flow and agree to rest. That was what she needed anyway.
The suite that she was shown was bigger than anything she had any right to be in. "Thank you, Spencer. It's a wonderful view. Does it take over the entire top floor of the hotel?"
"Yes, I believe it does."
"You didn't have to do this at all. I just need to sleep and eat."
"Well, know that you sleep and eat on the most secure floor of the hotel." He bowed. "Shall I book a reservation?"
She thought it would be nice to dine with Henrick again. "Sure. Tonight would be fine, though I might sleep through it."
"In that case we can reschedule for the next evening."
"Very good."
He left her and she was able to sigh. She cleaned up by boiling her skin under the hot water. Ophelia had a shower but the water pressure had been as anemic as that world had been. This one was full-on pressure.
She wrapped herself up in a fluffy robe, but memories of that fox-faced assassin fiddled her mind and so she changed into comfortable loungewear.
She had a mind to fall asleep and sat in front of the fireplace brushing her long hair while it was still damp.
She ignored being in the sky. She didn't have a fear of heights per se, but she didn't want the anxiety of knowing how far off the ground she actually was.
She curled up in a blanket in the chair and relaxed.
Too soon, the chirp of the phone broke through her dead sleep.
Disoriented at the shifting light, she sought the sound. It was in the corner of the room. She debated on just letting it go to voicemail, but it could have been someone with news. She lifted the receiver. "Hello?"
"Good evening, Ms. Lucy. I hope I haven't disturbed you. Will you be able to make your reservation after all?"
She wanted to say no. She wanted to be in her own little space with her own peace and company. But her heart squeezed with all the information she had learned, and all the information she had yet to uncover. And so she responded the only way her conscious would let her. "Yes, I’ll be down. Thank you so much for informing me."
Before she said her goodbyes, she looked down at the loungewear she wore. Immortelle might have been someone who set her own rules and tone, but she refused to be ogled when she didn't need to be. "Spencer. Could you possibly suggest a tailor? Or send appropriate evening attire to my room, please?"
Spencer had done both. He sent up a rack of clothes with a tailor so that he would be able to fit anything off the rack on her. With him were two assistants who were able to apply neutral cosmetics and an effortless fall to her hair. It was elegant and required plenty of work to look so effortless.
"Now that I know your size and preferences, you shall have a wardrobe to suit your every need while you are here. You are staying here indefinitely, yes?"
"Yes. But you know that could be anywhere from tonight to a week from now. I can't be too sure, so I don't want you to spend too much trouble on me."
"None at all."
And he whisked away the clothes.
Properly attired, she took her private elevator down to meet Henrick for her reservation.
Henrick waited in the middle of the dining room, arranging the table decor and placement just so. Even while off-duty, he couldn't help fixing and creating order. Then again, was he ever truly off-duty?
He rose in greeting, kissing her lightly on each cheek.
"I hope you weren't waiting long?" Immortelle asked. She took in his sleek black tux and the signature triple moon cufflinks. He served an old queen, if she remembered correctly. Funny, she used to remember these types of things so easily, who served whom. Special powers. Favored weapons. But being out of the business, they all faded as if it was no longer important.
With that thought, a rush of information opened like a vault in her mind. Where there had been a blank space, all fuzzy with memories she couldn't quite capture, other memories filled in. Sharp. Clear.
They were Bianco's memories. They remembered when Henrick was the queen's knight, an enforcer, and a ruthless killer.
So at odds to how Immortelle knew him. She knew he was a killer. But also a gentleman.
The fearless and zeal of his other days surprised her.
"Are you well, Ms. Lucy?" Henrick asked in his cultured tones. "If you need to rest some more we could always reschedule. I enjoy the pleasure of your company, but I would also prefer you to be well."
She smiled at him, shaking her head to try and remove the memories from the forefront of her mind. She would examine them further when she wasn't in public. "No, just a second of dizziness, but it was nothing, really. Gone already."
She smiled to try and assure him.
He merely bowed his head toward her, and looked over her head to communicate something to his staff.
They were seated, and the courses were served immediately.
"Well, you probably just needed a little bit of food." He smiled warmly over t
he cognac he swirled.
She responded with another delicate mouthful of food. Most of the people here were just lounging and talking. A cigar flare. A lot of liquor. But no food served.
She was the only human here who required sustenance. The rest were giving the look of eating.
The lounge was still a great place to have a different kind of food on the menu: gossip and intrigue.
And she had the odd feeling that she was the center of it.
"Thank you for the suite. You didn't have to."
Henrick smiled. "And that is why it is precisely perfect that I did it."
“Obligations are the worst, aren't they?”
“Indeed they are.” He put the cognac aside, the leaded glass heavy, the weight of it reverberating on the table top. "Thankfully there are none between us. Especially with your Carte Blanche status."
There was something to that pronouncement that reminded her of a ringing of swords unsheathed. Time for business.
"I'm glad you brought that up, Henrick. That is an interesting offer, but I don't know why it was given?"
The calculated look gave him more of that killer that she had seen in Bianco's memories. "It was given not as an offer. It is a gift bestowed. No more, no less."
A policy that would allow her free reign and access to all the resources that Arapax had to offer. If she wanted to stay here for the rest of her mortal life, she could.
And she would be able to do so in style.
But, there was something about it, especially sitting here with prying ears and hungry appetites, which made her seem that she was the main course of this meal.
"Perhaps after you are refreshed, you would like to see the changes that we have made to the arboretum?"
The arboretum? Her experience with trees lately made her feel more circumspect toward them. But Henrick wasn’t just making idle conversation about the hotel renovations. It was a prelude to speak in an area that had fewer prying ears.
And so she demurely agreed, and had another discreet bite of salad.
After the meal, and two courses of dessert, the sweet wine and then the coffee, she insisted on taking the coffee to go with the last round of decadent chocolate cake.
If they were going to be strolling the arboretum, it would only make sense for her to possibly leave food for her friends.
Henrick was gallant enough to carry her plate of cake, the slice was easily as big as her head. "Did they even slice it from the cake or did they just serve me the cake itself?"
"It is actually a three-tiered confection. The baker seems to have given you the top tier."
She laughed at that. Surprisingly, Henrick smiled too. He'd been doing that more and more, and she wondered why his demeanor had changed since the last she saw him. "I don't mean to pry, so please do your normal Fae evasion if this question is too personal, but have you recently encountered some good luck? You seem more at ease. I'm happy for you."
The crunching of gravel as they walked the paths added a buffer to the comfortable silence between them. Someday she would follow the loops of the trails here and explore the things that seemed to be hidden.
"Thank you for noticing, Ms. Lucy. Yes, I am happier, but not for any good luck. Nothing as base as all that."
She suppressed a giggle that "luck" would be something base in his world.
"I simply find that I appreciate that you are alive and well."
That was an unexpected answer, and spoken by someone else under the waxing moonlight with just a hint of prismatic sunset in the air, it would have been an overture to something else. Something romantic.
But Henrick was old guard. There was nothing romantic in his speech and gesture. What he said he meant plainly with an undercurrent of relief. As if he had truly wondered if he would ever see her alive.
Henrick would explain more in his own time. For now, he walked them both deeper into the arboretum. The courtyard hummed with the language of trees. As they moved along the paths, he showed her where there was one tree and the plaque for another.
There was even a trio of benches in a familiar spot, with an area that looked almost like an altar in the middle of a small copse of trees.
Immortelle took the cake from Henrick, and laid it on the flattened area of rocks. It was beautiful with inlaid gold. She could tell that this was done not just for aesthetics. The gold would deter anyone from trapping the pixie or other creature small enough to land here. It was as if it was an empowered gold coin that the Arapax would yield.
Immortelle commented on it. "That is beautiful, Henrick."
He bowed his head toward her. "Inspired by you, Ms. Lucy. The hotel management was impressed by your use of the pixies the last time you were here, and so wanted to honor your actions."
"I nearly killed one of them."
"No." His voice dropped to something lethal. Venom seemed to drip from that word. "You didn't nearly kill them. You saved them. An assassin nearly killed you and Ms. Farasail. No need to twist the facts, I know it." There was a twinkle in his eye at the end there that made her feel more at ease. She joined him at the benches, sitting on the one that was across from him. It was funny, the proximity of these benches. They were so close together, they may as well have been one of those U-shaped benches. Their knees nearly touched, and she had a distinct need to make sure that they wouldn't. She didn't want them to accidentally graze him and then have him offended.
"You like the changes that we made to the arboretum?" he asked.
"Yes, I do, but I have a feeling that there's more to it than an excess of gold here and there and more...gravel."
The pixie lights fluttered down as soon as night fell. The moon was so bright tonight, a rare super blood wolf moon, that she didn't notice the pixies at first. But their gold flickering lights were there and they zoomed in front of her face with their usual carefree abandon.
"Hey guys, dig in," she called out to them.
They did and they swirled and devoured the offering.
"Aren't you going to sip your coffee?"
"Nah, I thought to give it to them once there was more room on the altar, of course."
In understanding, Henrick leaned back and with barely a snap of his fingers, a tray service arrived, and there was a coffee service that was delivered in small pint-sized containers perfect for each pixie.
"Well, haven't you all thought of everything?" She beamed.
"It was thanks to you, Ms. Lucy, that we even remembered to care for the wee folk in the first place."
He waited until there was no longer any service, and there was just the contented buzzing of the pixies, which sounded like the cooing of doves with a slight trill.
"And now that we're alone?" Immortelle prompted.
"Have you spoken to Ms. Farasail?"
Something tickled her memory. "No, I didn't realize I was supposed to. She did deliver the message that I would have Carte Blanche."
"Yes, and there was something deeper in the message."
Well hells. She hadn't seen that. "Apologies, Henrick, I didn't ask further. There was that trial and all that."
“No matter, it's water under the bridge and a little bit moot now, since you are here. I had given her a cipher to relay to you to come here before the lunar eclipse. As you are already here, I had assumed that the rest of the message had been conveyed.”
"Please enlighten me."
"I would wait just a little bit longer, as the timing is not quite right." The reflection of the moon in his eyes were striking, and gave the impression that blood splattered across his face. Maybe that was just her mind projecting the memories that she'd seen on his face.
"So while we do, can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
“Have you heard of a triumvirate before?”
Concern wrinkled Henrick’s otherwise smooth as parchment forehead. “Yes, in many ways. Seat of power? Government?”
"A convergence of three powers into one demonic-looking body?" Immortelle added.
A beat of silence passed between them.
She took that as a yes.
"Why would you need to know about that, Ms. Lucy?"
He plucked an imagined ball of lint from his jacket cuff. His tone was careful. Cautious. Like a hunter.
"Because one tried to kill me. Well, not really just me, but everyone in the group traveling out of the Goblin Market."
Halfway through her speech, Henrick rose to his feet. By the end of her sentence, he had looked at the moon, and held his hand out to her. "We need to move."
"Something coming, eh?" She got up, fueled by his urgency. Maybe the others felt it too, because the pixies were ruffled and rose from their confection like a gold cloud.
"I would feel better deeper in the woods."
"Just how deep does this go?"
"Deep."
The way he said that word—deep—made different elements and disjointed conversations finally click in her mind.
The shifting tides of politics within the Cabal. The absence of Fae. A rise in tension. Something was shifting, here. Something foundational that she was too afraid to even acknowledge.
The corner of the arboretum was full of creeping mosses and vines. Back here, it seemed as if they were deeper into another world. And perhaps that was the point and the problem.
"Here. Any moment now."
The air was truly black with the dark sky, and the moon reigned, shading the area with bloody light. And that was when she saw it. The way the shadows were cast, she saw a doorway. And she walked through.
"Something tells me we aren't in Kansas anymore."
"No, of course not. Kansas is in the Midwest, is it not? We are in the East Coast?"
She didn't dignify that with a response. The peeks into the mundaneness of his demeanor were such at odds to his cunning. Maybe that was part of the way that he kept people off guard around him.
"So, where we going? Not that I mind being dragged along to lord knows where."
"Apologies, Ms. Lucy. I hope that I will be able to shed light to this mystery in a moment." There was another gateway, and the idea that this was still in the same woods was hilarious.