“Those conniving, plotting, filthy…” Oh shut it, you dolt.
I slid through a wrought iron gate and into a long alley of equally spaced trees. In front of me, there were people meandering down the shady lane, so I walked left and into an open lawn area. To my right and just beyond a hundred or two hundred perfectly trimmed trees—even the tops were pruned to be the same height—was the massive blond stone building I’d seen from the car. Enormous. Regal. Opulent. If not for the fact I needed to hide from Fae and human alike, I would have asked a guide what it had been used for. Surely someone named Louis built it. But I had no time.
In a shady spot with no people around, I sat against a tree and spread my senses. Finding no Fae around, I dropped the cloak so that Bastien could find me—if he was close. My mind reached out to the edge of my range, but I sensed no Fae.
“Bastien, please, I need you. If you’re here, please reveal yourself to me.”
A bird whistled a song in the distance. A car horn sounded a little further off, and as a backdrop to it all, sirens sounded in the city—undoubtedly looking for me. There was nothing else, so I hid myself and walked closer to the Chateau. Past a large reflecting pool, I made my way to the rows of neatly trimmed trees and turned left. I walked for several minutes, but still hadn’t made it past the end of the building. Through the openings in the thick canopy, dormer windows reflected the deep blue sky. They also unnerved me. Somebody could be standing behind the reflections ready to sound the alarm if the River Seine Terrorist popped out of thin air.
Past another iron fence, I found a cobbled courtyard in the shadow of one wing of the structure. I hurried to an arched recess that led through the first floor and to a courtyard on the other side. The building just kept going. Across the courtyard I went, toward another archway, yet another courtyard, and unbelievably, even more Chateau.
Hidden in the shadow of the second Archway, I checked both sides to make sure there were no people milling about. The area was clear and, at least to the naked eye, there were no cameras either. I dropped the Clóca and called for Bastien. There were no Fae, but I was not alone. Before I could cloak, an attractive young brown-haired man walked into the archway from the building.
He spoke in French and didn’t appear afraid of me. He smiled in fact.
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak French.”
With a thick French accent, he said, “Oh, American.”
Despite his smile, it sounded like an indictment.
“Yes. I’m Ma…Mary.” At the last second, I thought better of using my real name.
He grinned at my stutter. “I am pleased to meet you Ma Mary.”
Okay, I didn’t like him.
“I am Louis.”
Of course you are. “Are you from here?”
“No, I am not…” He feigned disappointment.
“That’s too bad. I need directions to someplace close.”
He smiled revealing a gap between his front teeth. “Oh? What is it you are looking for? I am not from here, as I said, but I do work here.”
I wanted to blow him into the wall, but instead I laughed like I was amused by his wit. “I’ve been told that there are some ancient carved boulders in the area. I’d like to see them before I leave France—Archaeology is a hobby of mine.”
“Carved boulders…” He shook his head. “I do not know of these. There are many boulders in the forest. Perhaps what you are looking for is there?”
“Perhaps. Do you have a suggestion where I can begin my search?”
He flattened his lips into a thin line and, after a pause, reached into his jacket and retrieved a brochure. Twirling a pen in his fingers, he pointed at a map.
“If you go here, Mary,” he said, before pulling the brochure to his hand and marking on it. “And you’ll want to go here.”
“Thank you,” I said reaching for the paper.
He flicked it just out of my reach. “I could come with you, yes?”
Before he could move the map again, I snatched it out of his hand. “Tempting, but I couldn’t impose.”
He lifted his eyebrows and leaned against the stone archway. “It is no imposition. It would be my pleasure to show such a beautiful…”
Louis gasped when I disappeared. It probably wasn’t a smart move on my part, but I would have thrown up had I listened to any more. Before he drew a second breath, I was sprinting across a cobbled pathway the opposite direction I’d come. The gate at the street was locked, so I went left and passed through another arch near the end of the chateau. Beyond it, I followed a path along the edge of the property with thick vegetation on one side and intermittent open areas of lawn on the other. Twice I dropped the cloak and called to Bastien. Neither time did I get a response.
Like the sear of rubbing alcohol poured over a fresh cut, my senses screamed to life as a Fae moved in from the west. Under Clóca, I continued to move south, anger growing in my chest with each step. Not only had they murdered people I cared about, and millions of people I didn’t know, they’d set me up. The feeling festered, but before I worked myself into a frenzy, I sensed two more move in from the south. They’re circling the city—they’re going to try to catch me inside.
At least I hoped that was their plan. I realized they could do much worse if they wanted. My imagination flashed images of explosions leveling parts of the city in my mind. After being spotted there, I would undoubtedly get blamed for that, too. The nagging sensation of being watched returned. I tried to write it off as nerves, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Ozara had made her way to France. Nerves forced me to quicken my pace down the path where I found another locked gate. It was near the edge of the city and there were no good places to hide. If I jump the gate, they may sense me.
The Fae took physical form—I could tell that much. I also knew they were about to start moving toward me. Instinctively, I ran away from them, back toward the Chateau. The word hide kept running through my mind. I had remembered seeing a small lake toward the center of the grounds. I burst through a cluster of shrubs at the end of a tree-lined corridor and saw the lake, actually more of a pond, directly in front of me.
Scanning the shore, I searched for a place to hide. There were trees around the edge closest to me, but each was several feet from the waterline. The well-trimmed lawn along the shore offered no cover, but there was small stone gazebo in the center of the water on a small island. As the Fae began their methodical advance, I slowly eased in past my waist, then my shoulders. The green water stank of fish and rot, but I had no choice except to continue toward the island. I only had a few minutes before they would get close enough to lay eyes on the pond, so I tied my bag around my waist and swam for it. It had been weeks since I’d been in the water, but I hit my stride within a few strokes. Fifty feet from shore, I noticed a problem. At the far end, some eight hundred feet, there was a stone balustrade, and beyond the trees, part of the palace with windows overlooking the water. Crap. I didn’t see anyone watching me, so I switched from Clóca to the energy from Water and used it both to conceal my presence and propel me through the warm lake. My heart beat hard against my sternum, and I felt exposed as waves spread out over the mirror surface. I was visible and leaving a wake. This is a stupid idea.
The island was actually a manmade stone pedestal in the center of the triangular pond. As I drew closer, stroke-by-stroke, I formulated a plan. The instant my fingers made contact, I connected with the stone and made an opening in the wall to wiggle through. Before I closed the stone around me, I slowly changed the energy barrier from Water to Earth. Inside the self-made sarcophagus, the air rushing in and out of my lungs filled my ears with noise. Slow your breathing—god, I’m out of shape.
My heart rate began to slow until I sensed a fifth Fae beyond the other four. Then I felt a sixth. As they closed in, moving no faster than a casual walk, more came within my range. I had to stay calm. I had to focus on my breathing.
Dersha’s voice pierced the stone barrier as she directed
the search, “Check everything. She is here.” The hunters used raw energy—Earth, Wind, Fire, and Water—to probe every inch of Fontainebleau, undoubtedly groping for contact with Clóca. They were moving so slowly. When Chalen’s presence entered my senses, the beating sound of my heart grew faster. Blood rushed past my ears. He advanced to my east from two miles away. They moved closer and after ten minutes, they were only a mile away. Focus. Focus.
My mind raced to come up with a plan. When they reached the center of town, I’d make my way back to shore. Then what? That was the big question. Then you slip back to the gate and get out of this place—find a car or something, and go to that place Louis circled on the map. When, five agonizing minutes later, they got within half a mile, it took all my concentration to remain calm. They searched more slowly than they did at Veluwezoon, more methodically, and I wondered whether my hiding place would be good enough. One Fae, a male I’d sensed before, passed closest to me. Who was he? Try to remember. From somewhere in the recesses of my mind, the name Markus came to me. He was one of the four who’d held Mitch captive. His scarred face flashed into my mind’s eye—cloudy white eyes, greasy red shoulder-length hair, angled, protruding cheekbones. A year ago, with sadistic pleasure resonating in his voice, he had offered to take one of Mitch’s fingers to the Seelie Council as proof my brother was still alive. Stay calm. Don’t do anything stupid. I memorized each movement Markus made as he drew closer. If he changed anything about what he was doing, I’d come out fighting.
The dampness of my clothes and the lack of sunlight left my teeth chattering. A thousand feet away, Markus crept through the trees and manicured spaces inside the chateau walls, pausing every few steps, pushing his mind out in all directions. Seven hundred feet away and the sensation of being watched grew even stronger, almost like someone was in the dark, dank cubbyhole with me. I bit down on my lower lip to keep my teeth apart, and pulled in a slow breath. As quietly as I could, I released it and repeated the process. My skin tingled.
Markus stalked up to the edge of the lake and paused for a long time—several seconds at least, but I lost count. Then he dipped into the water, sending my heart to the races. Thump-thump, thump-thump. The timpani of rushing blood in my ears became deafening. He glided across the surface and I felt his energy inching its way closer. Like hot breath on my neck, his energy washed over me. I shuddered.
He climbed out of the water above me and slipped inside the little building. We were less than ten feet apart. Dersha glided down from the sky, probably in the shape of a bird, and stopped above him. She changed shape, into what I didn’t know, and slipped inside, beside him. Oh my god, oh my god. Get ready—concentrate, stay calm. You have this.
They’d sensed me—I knew it. Just before I formed Quint, my gut told me to stop.
“Any sign of the girl?” Dersha asked.
“None—yet. She couldn’t have slipped past us. She is probably hiding among the humans,” Markus responded. Oh my god, stay calm, I repeated over and over in my mind.
Chalen slithered across the water and joined them. “Trielle has seen her image in one of the humans. It’s recent. He may be hiding her.”
Breath caught in my lungs.
“Where is this human?” Dersha asked.
Chalen laughed. “In a restaurant a quarter mile from here—talking about a disappearing girl.”
“That’s her. We have her—we should move now,” Markus said.
“She is using Clóca—continue the search. Tell the others not to let her slip past us. She is very clever.”
Chalen gagged in protest.
“Need I remind you, she slipped away from us once already. I’ve hunted million-year-old Fae who are easier to track. Go back to your grid, Chalen. Search for her companions—she wouldn’t travel without them.”
My lungs burned when I realized I’d been holding my breath. I’d waited too long to breathe and began to panic as my body fought to force the spent air out and suck in fresh.
“What do we do if we find her friends?” Markus asked.
“Keep them alive until we have her. Then do whatever you desire. We don’t need them,” she said.
Markus shifted shapes and slipped back into the water. Dersha moved quickly to the east, but Chalen lingered. My eyes began to water and I thought I was going to pass out. The burning sensation turned to spasms—I wouldn’t be able to hold it much longer.
Chalen cursed at me and then flashed across the lake. Stars replaced the blackness filling my vision and I formed an Air barrier inside the Earth energy field. I didn’t have time to see if Markus had noticed—he was only fifty feet away. Air rushed noisily out of my chest and I gasped, in wounded cries, desperately trying to fill my lungs. I only managed to keep the barriers in place. As I swallowed another breath, Markus paused. God, something as stupid as remembering to breathe is going to do me in.
But, just like before, after a few seconds he began inching forward again. How? How did they not find me? That doesn’t matter. Just breathe.
THIRTY
STANDING GROUND
With a half-mile between the Fae and me, I shimmied through a temporary opening in the massive gate at the edge of the compound. They didn’t notice when I emerged from the lake—they appeared to be congregated around a certain gap-toothed Frenchman. I felt bad for Louis, and even though I suspected he was a womanizer, I was afraid of what they’d do to him. There wasn’t much time to feel bad, though. Dersha would learn rather quickly where he saw me, and she’d be able to track my scent in and out of the lake. Distance was what I needed now. Part of my pity for Louis dissolved when I realized he’d circled four areas on the map, rather than one. Really, Louis?
Each appeared to be a popular bouldering site, whatever bouldering was, so I picked the closest one first. Franchard was just west of town and in the middle of the forest. On the sidewalk outside the gate, I considered my options. Because I needed to get into the forest, and fast, I ignored the Smartcar and the collection of Peugeots and headed straight for a motorcycle—even though I’d never ridden one before. It’s just a bike with a motor, right? How hard can it be?
From behind a tree, I extended Clóca and it disappeared. There wasn’t anyone around to notice. It was a blue racy-looking BMW. The instant I straddled it I felt uneasy. After sitting atop the bike for a couple of seconds, I realized I didn’t know how to start it. I’d hotwired Aunt May’s boat once, but this ignition system seemed more complicated. Too complicated.
Just then, I noticed a young guy in spandex on a bicycle behind me. He was peddling my way and it only took an instant to figure out what I was going to do. Guilt bubbled in my chest. “Really? Grand theft Huffy? I’m going to pedal out of the city while being chased by Fae. Idiotic.” Well, you’re not smart enough to hotwire a motorcycle, what choice do you have?
When he got close, I connected with the energy in his body. Like I’d done with Tadewi, I pulled it out of him. He wobbled and passed out. I caught him before he hit the ground and hid him from view. He was out cold. “God, I feel so bad. I should have just asked.” I whimpered. No, if he’d seen you, the Fae would be all over him.
Like usual, my inner voice was right. He never saw me. I pulled him to the stone wall in a nice shady spot and pushed five thousand soggy Euros into his jersey. “That should cover the cost…and it’s not really stealing…just think of it as a hostile takeover.”
I climbed on the bike, said, “Sorry,” and set off. It didn’t have a motor, but I didn’t need one. With Air at my back I was zipping past parked cars as fast as any motorcycle. No one could see or hear me, and that made my escape just that much easier. At a roundabout with an obelisk in the middle, I pulled my phone out and tried to use GPS. It didn’t come on. “Wet. Oh great, swim with the phone, that’s brilliant—I’ll dry it out later.”
With Louis’ map in hand, I plotted a course to Franchard. With the aid of Air power, I could go as fast as I felt comfortable going. I wound my way through the outskirts of
Fontainebleau, and at a bend in Rue Gabriel Fournier I went right along a bike path that crossed under a busy highway. A short distance later, I was heading west along the wooded path toward Franchard. The trail was paved and lightly traveled, so gradually I increased my speed. I flew past a golf course and continued deeper into the woods. The directions on the map were a little confusing, so I ended up changing trails twice, hoping I was headed in the right direction. About two miles from town, I lost contact with the Rogues and crossed another road with light car traffic.
There were several cars in a small parking lot about a quarter mile past the road, so I slipped into the woods and dropped the Clóca barrier.
“Bastien, are you here?”
Nothing.
I pedaled down another trail, like a normal person, and emerged in an area where the trees were spread further apart and footpaths led in dozens of directions between large gray sandstone outcroppings. Some of the boulders were small, some were the size of cars, and others were enormous. On many of the rocks, there were bizarre white spots that appeared completely out of place.
The Rogues were still out of my range, so I called to Bastien again. A breeze rustled the leaves and whistled over imperfections in the tree bark. Somewhere in the distance the voices of people ricocheted off the stone surfaces, and above the ceiling of green leaves, the gray haze of rain clouds floated silently across the sky. A storm was moving in—I tried to ignore the obvious metaphor. If Bastien was close, he didn’t answer.
I discovered a couple things a little further down the trail. First, bouldering was apparently the local term for rock climbing, as I found several people around my age scaling the stone slabs. Second, the odd white marks were places where the climbers grabbed finger and toeholds. Given the number of spots and the size of the marks, I gathered that bouldering was quite the popular pastime in Fontainebleau. Finally, I realized just how difficult it would be to find carved stones. It was no wonder people missed their relevance, as Sherman said. Several stones were in completely unique shapes. If a boulder had been carved thousands of years ago and worn down over time, it could easily pass for any of the hundreds I’d seen in the last fifteen minutes.
Weald Fae 03 - The Aetherfae Page 29