And yet, I could see they believed me—though perhaps not at first. My description of the Otherworld as a deathless realm locked in an eternal power struggle between codependent nations, complete with fugue-inducing edibles, made Fae seem downright pedestrian by comparison. At least there, change was possible. But by the time I made it to the cosmic hallway and my mother’s final farewell, I noticed even Maria was hanging on my every word. From then on, they oohed and ahhed over each leg of my journey, though some anecdotes earned stronger reactions than others. My mention of the infamous Witch of Aeaea, for example, left all three practitioners in the room wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Similarly, the tale of my haphazard ascension to godhood—not to mention the schizophrenic episodes that came with it—earned an exchange of troubled looks. And yet, it was only once I began to talk about venturing to the Underworld to retrieve Max and save Ryan that anyone cut me off.
“I won’t listen to this,” Maria said, waving her hands about as if shooing away a horde of stinging insects. “I can’t.”
“But Maria...” Camila moved to take her friend’s arm, but the detective pulled away.
“No, Camila.” Maria took a deep breath. “Look, I’ve seen enough to know that there are some things the Bible left out. The Fae, the pagan gods, these other realms she’s been going on about...fine. But if she really went to Hell, I don’t want to hear about it.”
“It wasn’t Hell,” I corrected. “At least, not the Hell you’re thinkin’ of. From what I saw, there were several afterlives all sort of sittin’ next to each other like boroughs.”
“I don’t believe that,” Maria said, shaking her head. “Heaven is Heaven, and Hell is Hell. That’s just what I believe. You should finish your story without me. Someone can always fill me in, later, if needed. Besides, I still have a job to do, don’t I, Camila? Assuming everything is going ahead as planned.”
She and Camila shared a meaningful look.
“Your guy delivered?” Camila asked.
“Yes. He’s getting curious, but he flipped the dragon’s blood.”
“Wait,” I interjected, “that’s what was in the jar Max handed over?”
The two women glared at me in disapproval, but I wasn’t about to back down this time; I had friends who were dragons. Well, weredragons. And they were more acquaintances, really. Okay, one-time drinking buddies. But the notion that Camila was trading in dragon’s blood made my stomach queasy all the same.
“Well?” I urged.
“It was,” Camila replied. “Why?”
“How d’ye get the blood?”
“How do you think? I bought it. Max and I used to own a magical paraphernalia shop before the hospital bills bankrupted us. But that does not mean I lost my supply chain.”
Jesus. Hospital bills and bankruptcy? I hadn’t even stopped to consider how much it must have cost. For a moment, I considered letting this one go. Whether I meant for it to happen or not, the brujo’s coma was my fault, which meant I had no room to throw stones. And yet, I couldn’t; guilt should make you want to speak up, not shut up.
“What I want to know is how it’s sourced,” I confessed.
Camila raised both eyebrows. “You are concerned for the dragons?”
“Why d’ye say that like it’s such a huge surprise?”
“I am sorry. I did not mean for it to come out that way. It is just...you do not seem like the same person I met two years ago. Sí, I realize you have been through much. But such things tend to make people harder. Meaner. And you were already those things.”
“Is that supposed to be an insult, or a compliment?”
“Perhaps both. But, to answer your question, I get all my supplies through a white witch network. Everything they procure is ethically sourced.”
Maria coughed into her hand.
“Right,” Camila continued, “feel free to go, Maria. But think about using someone else for the rest. Maybe several people. We want to avoid any suspicion.”
“I’ll do that.” The detective looked as though she were going to add something else, but ultimately headed for the exit. Unfortunately, the bulky iron door proved even harder to push open than it had to pull; I watched Maria struggle for a very satisfying handful of seconds before adding my weight to the endeavor.
“Thanks,” Maria muttered as we finally shoved the door open.
“Don’t mention it. Although, if ye really are grateful, could ye possibly do me a favor?”
“What kind of favor?”
I bent down so as not to be easily overheard. “I need to find out where the Sickos are. Ye know, the FBI unit that Jimmy is assigned—”
“I know who they are. Why on earth would you want to know that?”
I opened my mouth to respond but realized the truth was too complicated to get into, especially considering Maria had no interest in hearing about my afterlife. So, I did what any responsible woman with a hidden agenda would do in my situation: I lied.
“I heard a rumor while I was away and wanted to check on ‘em, that’s all.”
“I don’t believe you. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t know where they are. Jimmy and I aren’t as close as we used to be, not since he got married.”
“Jimmy got married?” I asked, so startled I nearly shouted it. I could suddenly feel everyone’s eyes on us, but I didn’t care; I was too busy trying to decide how I felt about the fact that my childhood friend and former lover had gotten hitched. Sadly, this wasn’t the time. “Nevermind. That’s not important, right now. Could ye maybe put out some feelers and let me know? Ye know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t serious.”
“Alright, fine. I’ll text Camila if I find anything out.”
“Great. I appreciate it.”
Maria started to slip past me, then hesitated. “Look...I’m sorry I threw you in a cell and almost got you killed. Camila’s right. You have changed. I don’t know that I believe a word of your inner goddess crap, but you aren’t the spoiled bitch I used to know.”
“Good t’ing ye didn’t shoot me, then,” I teased.
“There’s always next time,” Maria replied before ducking out the door.
I wasn’t sure how much of that was a joke and how much a threat.
“I still think you are making a mistake,” Max was saying when I turned back around, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the piercing squeal of the door as it ground shut. “There have to be other, safer ways—”
“We are done having this conversation,” Camila snapped.
“Can I ask what ye two are fightin’ about?” I ventured, raising a hand for good measure. “I know it has to do with breakin’ Robin out. And somethin’ called a Hex Moon. But honestly, I had a hard time followin’ it all. Also, I have some questions of me own. Like what are the slaugh doin’ in Boston, and what do we know about this Catha person? And what was that t’ing that attacked us back at the precinct?”
“Wait, don’t you want to finish your story, first?” Petal asked.
“There’s not much more to tell,” I lied, eager to stop reliving one traumatic event after another like I was in some form of voluntary exposure therapy. “Let’s see...I found Max. Frankenstein found us. Max killed him, or so I thought. Max got called back to his body, and I went after Ryan.” I stopped to clear my throat. “Frankenstein tried to take control of Ryan’s body, and Ryan fought it, but he couldn’t win. So, in the end, I did what I had to do.”
Silence greeted my account, for which I was thankful; I wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened in Atlantis. Of course, that meant I’d left out all sorts of other details—such as meeting Hades, or starting a brawl in Valhalla, or having a heart-to-heart with Nate’s parents. For some reason, that thought compelled me to reach into my pocket, past Areadbhar, and wrap my hand around the strange object the Temples had bestowed upon me before I returned to Aeaea. Thanks to Circe, I knew now what it was—though why it had been given to me in particular remained a mystery.
After all, I wasn’t royalty.<
br />
“I am truly sorry for your loss,” Max said, snapping me back to the present moment.
The others mumbled similar sentiments.
“I appreciate that, t’anks.”
“Ryan did much for our kind before his exile was lifted,” Albi added, sounding oddly thoughtful as he turned to the only other Faeling in the room. “He was an exceptional liaison, always looking out for those who could not walk about unnoticed, especially those who had trouble adapting to life here. We will see he is remembered for such things, and not what he became.”
Petal ducked her head. “Seconded.”
For some reason, the Pooka’s unexpected kindness rankled. It felt wrong somehow that there were others out there who might grieve Ryan’s loss. Others he might have called friends. And yet, I knew I was being unfair; there was at least one other person who deserved to mourn him at least as much as I did.
“Christoff,” I blurted. “How is Christoff? And his kids, how are they?”
“I wondered when you would ask,” Camila replied, lightly. “They are safe. Before Robin was taken, he sent word to Christoff and the other independents who call Boston home. I believe most left the city. Last I heard, Christoff and his cubs were on vacation, though I have no idea why they chose Alaska of all places.”
“Christoff has friends there,” I said, grinning. Truthfully, I had no idea whether Christoff had gone to stay with the Alaskan werebears or not. I certainly hoped so. Their leader, Armor, was an honorable sort who could be depended on to offer sanctuary. And then there was Starlight—a drug-addled teddy bear whose foresight bordered on prophetic. If anyone could keep Christoff and his kids out of harm's way, it would be them.
“Well, you can never have too many of those.” Camila gestured to Albi. “You should go, too. Your mistress may get suspicious if you are gone too long.”
“She doesn’t notice much, these days,” Albi replied. “Though it pains me to admit it, Liam has proven himself a useful distraction. She seems far less volatile whenever he’s around.”
“Why do I know that name?” I asked. “Liam, I mean?”
“He’s what you might call my other half,” the Pooka explained. “The Gancanagh who Catha elected to replace the Huntress. He is what the mortals once called a love-talker. A seducer of Manlings.”
Max and I exchanged glances.
“And what does a love-talker look like?” I asked.
“To a Manling? Like every beautiful thing they’ve ever seen or desired. Before they began wearing iron, mortals used to fall at the Gancanagh’s feet and writhe like snakes as they passed. Or so it once was. This realm has made less of us all. Now, you would have a hard time telling him apart from an elf.” Albi narrowed his eyes until they were little more than slits hovering amidst pitch black fur. “Why?”
“Because it is possible he is the one who attacked us at the precinct,” Max answered.
“Except he didn’t look like an elf. Not at first. He was bathed in light. And his voice...” I drifted off, shuddering. “If it weren’t for the steel bars between us, I t’ink he could’ve cut me to ribbons, and I would have died beggin’ him to kiss me.”
“That’s impossible,” Albi replied.
“You all have been saying that a lot,” Camila accused. “First when Catha came, then when the slaugh followed, and now when we find out your ‘other half’ came for my brother.”
“Actually, I do not believe he was after me,” Max said. “He wanted to kill Quinn. In hindsight, I think it is possible the slaugh were after her, and not us.”
“Catha is looking for her,” Albi noted. “She has refused to say why. But I do know she wants Lady Quinn alive, which means she would not have called on the slaugh. They are not accustomed to leaving their prey alive.”
“The slaugh left, actually,” I recalled, thinking back. “The night hags were gone before I went into the precinct. I didn’t know why, although it felt weird at the time.”
“The night hags don’t retreat unless they are ordered to do so. But I was with Catha this morning. She gave no such commands.”
“And was Liam with ye, this mornin’?”
“Of course, he...no. No, he asked to be excused. I’d forgotten…” Albi’s ears drooped incrementally. “He never came back. And I didn’t notice.”
“So, is it possible Liam was holdin’ the slaugh’s leash?”
“No,” Albi replied, though doubt had begun to creep into his voice. “He doesn’t have that kind of power. None of us do.”
“Except you said it yourself,” Camila interjected. “Liam has distracted your mistress and escaped your notice. Only, what if it is more than that? What if he has seduced her, and bespelled you?”
“I do not see how,” Albi replied, though doubt had begun to creep into his voice. “It would take more power than a Gancanagh possesses, even in Fae. Much more.”
“What makes ye say that?” I asked.
“Bespelling Manlings is one thing. It is in our nature. What we were meant for, you might say. The ability to sway our own kind, however, is an uncommon one. But to seduce a being like Catha with nothing more than glamour…”
“What is she, really? Ye all talk about her like she’s some sort of monster, except the Chancery has monsters of its own. So, what could possibly scare the creatures that go bump in the night?”
“That I cannot say.”
“Why not?”
Albi shook his head.
“We made a deal to keep her identity a secret,” Petal replied, chiming in for the first time in a while. “Every member of the Chancery is bound by it. Even those who fled.”
“We have learned a few things, despite that,” Camila added, though she sounded quite bitter. “We know she is more a force of nature than a person. We know that, since she arrived, the whole city has become more violent. There have been more accidents. Deaths. Whatever she is, her power seems unstable. Which is why Robin opposed her, and why we have no choice but to stop her.”
Petal clapped her hands together. “Except now we have you, Lady Quinn. Which means we stand a much better chance!”
“Me? Why me?”
“Because you were meant to lead us. Albi has already pledged himself to you, and the others will undoubtedly follow suit. They know what you did for us. And once they find out who you really are, what you really are, they will stand with you.”
“Petal—” Camila began.
“I know you have done what you could for us, Camila,” Petal interrupted, “but Lady Quinn is descended from the Tuatha Dé. She journeyed to the Otherworld and drank from its waters. She has to do this.”
Camila stiffened.
“I can’t do that, Petal,” I said, firmly.
“But you must.”
“Look, I’ve only been here for a little over half a day, and most of that has been spent playin’ catch-up. I can’t just waltz into this mess and start barkin’ orders. I could get ye all caught, or even killed. Camila, on the other hand, has an actual plan. Plus, she’s kept ye lot safe so far. I say ye give her the support she deserves.”
“Please, stop,” Camila snapped. “I do not need your pity, Quinn. If the Fae would prefer to follow you, that is their right. I can find Robin on my own.”
Max reached for his sister. “Camila, do not—”
“No. If they believe she can save them, so be it. She put an end to Victor, after all, so maybe they are right to rely on her. We both know I never could have done that.” Camila wrung her hands together, her expression haunted. “I just want to find Robin.”
“Well, it’s a moot point, either way,” I said, loud enough to quell the others before they could voice their opinions on the matter. “I’m not stayin’ in Boston. I have somethin’ else I have to do.”
“Something more important than saving your people?” Camila stared at me like I was some sort of diseased creature thrashing about in the middle of the room. “What kind of coward are you?”
“Camila!” Max cri
ed.
“That’s alright, Max,” I said, sounding a great deal calmer than I felt. “I t’ink we were about done here, anyway. I’ll see meself out.”
Chapter 13
Several entreaties and one relocation later, I found myself sitting alone in one of the tenements that lined the alleyway. The apartment should have been cramped, but wasn’t; I lounged against the arm of a sectional at the far end of a lavish living room, sipping water from a glass one of the Fae had procured when my throat started to ache from all the yelling. A grandfather clock stood along a wall next to an empty fireplace, lulling me to sleep with its rhythmic ticking—so much so that I almost didn’t notice the door to the street creak open. Petal floated in, her gossamer wings fluttering at her back. To my chagrin, Camila followed, shutting the door firmly behind her.
“Did they really send ye to mediate?” I asked Petal. “Or d’ye draw the short straw?”
“Manlings rarely draw straws anymore, you know,” Petal remarked. “I’ve always found it odd, the way their expressions survive long after their bodies wither and die. Their history, too. Our kind neglects such things. The past is not dead. Not for us.”
“Our kind?” I made it a question. “Does that mean ye believe I’m one of ye?”
Petal drifted over and settled on the opposite arm of the couch. Camila, meanwhile, kept her back pressed to the door as if afraid to move further into the room. I supposed I couldn’t blame her; she and I hadn’t exactly been civil to each other after I’d tried to leave. Indeed, we’d quickly found that “coward” was a mild insult by our standards.
“I believe you are no longer human,” Petal replied, drawing my attention back to the conversation at hand. “But neither are you Fae. Perhaps you never were. Though whether you have truly ascended or not...that I cannot say.”
“What’s that mean, exactly?”
Moonshine: Phantom Queen Book 11—A Temple Verse Series (The Phantom Queen Diaries) Page 9