“Could be,” said Branwyn noncommittally. “I don’t really know the details.”
“Your judgment is not always admirable, but I would be interested in meeting anybody you thought could restore my daughter to me.” Viviana folded her hands in her lap and looked at Branwyn, the boss waiting for the presentation. It was as if she’d been expecting this for some time.
“I don’t have him on auto-dial or anything. I’d need to convince him. And maybe pay him. He’s reclusive,” she added.
“If I approve of his technique, money will not be an issue,” said Viviana, in her crisp producer’s voice.
Branwyn’s breath hissed between her teeth. “I’m not sure money would interest him. It might require a more... personal arrangement between the two of us.” Viviana’s expression turned calculating and Branwyn added quickly, “Not sex. An exchange of services, that’s all.”
The older woman was quiet, her gaze distant. Then Viviana tilted her head. “If you did have to sleep with somebody in order to get them to cure Penny, I think I would condone it. I apologize. I would do it myself, and with Tomas’s full approval, I know. But since you see fit to keep the secret of Penny’s illness to yourself, I must allow you to also bear the cost of curing her. Do what you must.”
“I’ll do my best, ma’am,” said Branwyn, congratulating herself for averting more tears. She didn't think too closely about what Viviana had encouraged her to do, since an entirely different sort of work for hire was on the table. And it did clarify her feelings about asking Zachariah for help. Her own dislike was a small thing compared to Penny's life.
Viviana’s phone chirped and she looked down at it with irritation. “Always, the emergencies. They don’t understand the meaning of emergency.” She stood up and smoothed her suit. “I must go. You have my number. Please call me when you’ve persuaded your friend.” She then straightened the stack of papers and kissed her daughter’s cheek. As she prepared to depart the room, she started flipping through the messages on her phone.
When she opened the door, a voice said, “Ms. Karzan! I was wondering if I could ask you how you feel about your daughter’s illness?” Branwyn recognized the clipped, brutally cheerful tones of a reporter. So did Viviana, from the way she rolled her eyes.
The other woman threw a glance over her shoulder at Branwyn, then stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her as she greeted the reporter by name.
Branwyn stood up and moved to Penny’s bedside. “Wake up.” She paused, just in case this had an effect.
It didn’t. She looked at Penny’s wan face for a long moment. Then she leaned forward and whispered in Penny’s ear. “I can’t stand it that you’re like this. And I’m going to do everything I can to bring you back. I just wish I’d been there when it started. When that bastard angel convinced you all you needed was him.”
She’d play Tarn’s game, if it led to Penny’s cure. But she wasn’t going to head in blind. To Hell with Corbin. She needed to talk to Zachariah anyhow.
*
***Amazing Illusion***
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Check out this great street show I saw!
A noisy crowd in a busy outdoor market. Some men are tossing fish. The crowd noises change. A tall man with golden skin and long, braided white hair is moving through the crowd. He’s dressed to stand out, in bright reds and greens, and the crowd moves aside for him. Once in the open space, he bows to the crowd, then bows in particular to a young woman with messy straw-colored hair and freckles. He holds out his hand. She giggles a little, looks around at the crowd, then takes his hand. He gestures as if opening a door and then starts climbing an invisible staircase. At first it’s just pantomime, but then he rises in the air. He turns, two feet up, and invites the girl to join him. Hesitantly, she does. Together they climb six feet up, seven feet up. Then the man’s head turns as the wind picks up, lifting his hair. He frowns. And then, so quickly the camera doesn’t track the event, he vanishes and the girl falls. The camera is lifted high enough to see over the crowd. The girl stands in the middle of several people who leapt to catch her when she fell, looking up at the sky where the illusionist vanished.
*
Once, Marley had walked into Branwyn’s workplace sporting a half-healed bullet hole she hadn’t had that morning and she’d refused to explain what was going on. Branwyn had hated that. The truth had been fantastic and Branwyn now had personal experience with the trouble with explaining the fantastic, but she still didn't like Marley's initial evasion. They'd been friends a long time, after all. She certainly didn’t want to behave the same way. A friendship like theirs deserved honesty.
On the other hand, Marley worried too much as it was. She wasn’t at all pleased to hear Branwyn talk about actually helping Tarn. Apparently learning from him was okay, but taking action was not. So like Research Girl.
“If I assist Tarn with a little project, he’ll be able to help Penny,” Branwyn explained patiently, lounging in Marley’s car as they drove over to Zachariah’s house.
Marley scowled, keeping her eyes on the road. “A little project, you say. He’s trying to escape the remaining restrictions of the Covenant. You know he is.”
“Would I help him do that?”
Marley snorted. “In a heartbeat, if you thought that he didn’t deserve to be imprisoned. And I don't think you do. What's being done to them is awful, you said.”
Thoughtfully, Branwyn said, “That’s true.”
“Exactly. And he's not in an individual cell, either. It's more like a cattle pen. Even if Tarn is decent, which I have no reason to believe, what about the rest of them?”
Branwyn gave Marley a long, slow stare. “On the other hand, it’s Penny. We’ve been looking out for Penny since we were fifteen years old. You did terrible things to save two kids you’ve known for a year. Can I do any less for Penny?”
Marley parked outside of Zachariah’s home, a Mission-style mansion complete with a walled garden, and dropped her head onto the steering wheel. “Of course not. But—”
Branwyn said sharply, “But what? It’s not the same?”
“I didn’t say that! For all we know, it’s exactly the same. I certainly can’t tell. All I can tell is that you’re dancing on the edge of disaster, Branwyn. And I don’t want to lose both of you and have a bunch of monsters turned loose on the world. And I can't find anything that says they're not.”
“Yeah. Nobody says, ‘Ach, faeries, they're trustworthy sorts.’ I was just thinking about that the other day. Look,” Branwyn continued. “You’ve worried like this before. It’s worked out.”
“Not exactly like this. I’ve worried about you ending up in prison, not as a burned-out shell of a person. Not as a faerie slave.”
“Close enough,” said Branwyn calmly. “I’m going to do this, Marley. And look at the bright side. There are two locks left, right? I’m only going to try to open one. And hey, if I figure out how they work, we can always put them back again. It's experimental research!”
Marley sighed. “I can’t stop you. But promise me something. If you get in over your head, ask me for help?”
“Sure,” Branwyn replied cheerfully. “I’m always willing to call you for bail money, aren’t I?” But Marley was offering something a bit different this time, and Branwyn knew it. Marley’s ability to absolutely protect somebody from danger was the primary reason Zachariah left his nieces in her care. But it only worked if Marley was near the person she was protecting, and if they accepted her protection. It wasn’t the sort of protection any adult could live under day-in and day-out, because another word for danger was opportunity.
But it could be useful in a fight, assuming Marley wasn’t trying to protect too many people, and nobody realized where the magic was coming from. Branwyn didn’t want to sit back and live the life of a sheltered child, but she was nothing if not practical, willing to use any weapon she could get her hands on when weapons became necessary.
Marley gave her a narrow-
eyed, suspicious glance, then said, “Well, okay then.” She summoned a wry smile. “I’ll be waiting.”
“So, are you going to stick around while I talk to Zachariah?” Branwyn asked as she got out of the car.
The suspicious expression returned. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t?”
Branwyn gave her an innocent look. Then the front door of the house burst open and two identical, very small girls raced out.
“Marley! You brought Branwyn! Hi, Branwyn!” said one of them, veering to meet Branwyn. The other one went to grab Marley’s hand as she came around the car.
“Hi, grasshopper.” Branwyn ruffled the child’s hair as she walked past. “Go get Marley. She brought candy.”
Ignoring Marley's indignant, “Hey! You—” from behind her, Branwyn walked over to where Zachariah stood in the door, waiting.
He looked like Tarn, save that he wasn’t quite as tall or slender, and his black hair was short and neatly cut rather than flowing down his back. And his eyes were an arctic blue, not ridiculously pied. It was, Branwyn observed, like he was a human copy of Tarn. And this wasn’t strange, given that, according to Marley, Tarn was Zachariah’s father. It wasn’t something Branwyn remembered often—neither had ever mentioned the relationship to her—but face to face with Zachariah again after so much time with Tarn, it was hard to overlook.
“Come in,” said Zachariah. “Marley says you’d like a favor.” He looked over Branwyn’s shoulder, a smile brightening his eyes as he watched Marley with the girls.
“Yes, aren’t they sweet,” said Branwyn. “As a matter of fact, I do. I need some charms suitable for venturing on a vaguely defined quest to convince a powerful being to give up a unique treasure. And Corbin has tapped out or something.”
His gaze returned to her. “A bit harsh on Corbin, aren’t you?”
“That’s rich, coming from you. I’m surprised you’re not doing a little jig at having the competition removed. Or maybe a happy slither.” She paused, then added, “You know, like snakes do.”
He smiled blandly. “You have such a charming way with words, especially for somebody coming to ask for help.”
He called for the twins and they ran inside, pulling Marley along by both hands. “Marley is going to come upstairs and play with us,” one of them informed Zachariah as they passed by.
“An excellent idea,” he said. “I have some business to take care of with Branwyn, and then maybe we can all have dinner.”
Marley shot Branwyn a harassed look that surprised Branwyn a little. She didn’t usually mind spending time with the kids. And she certainly couldn’t be worried that Branwyn would embarrass her. If that was a concern, they would have stopped being friends years ago. Maybe, Branwyn decided, she was worried about Zachariah causing trouble. That’s probably what the look meant: Please have patience with my idiot-male friend.
Branwyn shrugged in response, then waved as they parted ways. Marley went upstairs with the twins, and Branwyn followed Zachariah. He led her to his office, where once upon a time he’d been stolen away by faeries. It was the sort of room Marley loved, full of books and expensive leather-wrapped oak furniture and dim point lighting. Branwyn thought it needed more color and the leather smelled bad.
“So, I hear Tarn is your father. Do you two get along?”
He paused in the process of settling behind his desk, one hand reflexively clenching into a fist. She noticed he wore a thin silver band around his wrist. “We are cordial, but I wouldn’t say we’re friends.”
“How do you feel about, uh, the Covenant, then?”
“Is this an interview or a request for help, Miss Lennox?” His voice was chilly now. Branwyn could see the Authorized Personnel Only doors clanging shut behind his eyes.
She shrugged and lounged back on the plush couch. “Just curious. I mean, it seems like a complicated situation.”
“You’re the one directly helping the entity who kidnapped you.”
“He invited me,” Branwyn corrected. “He kidnapped you.”
“He prevented both of us from leaving, did he not? Is the difference so significant?”
Branwyn shrugged again. “He was compelled by the angel who hurt Penny. I don’t like it when people are forced to do things. It makes me inclined to give them a second chance.”
Zachariah laced his fingers together on the desk. “Tarn isn’t above compelling people himself.”
“Really?” she asked. “He seems more the manipulative type. Offering intriguing goals and reframing situations to suit his narrative. You take after him that way.”
His smile was thin. “Sometimes, only pure compulsion will do. Do you want to talk about Marley directly now?”
“Sure.” She leaned on her hand on the side of the couch. “Love triangles are a lot less fun when it’s your best friend and one of the guys is a thousand years older than her, or whatever you are.”
He raised an eyebrow. He looked very much like Tarn, then. “And why should that be relevant? She’s an adult, I’m an adult.”
“Normally I’d agree, but you’ve had that much more experience in screwing with peoples’ heads. It makes you less sympathetic.”
“I don’t care about being sympathetic. I need Marley,” said Zachariah flatly.
Branwyn twirled a strand of green hair around her finger. “Spoken like a true lover.” She watched him as the silence stretched out. His eyebrows were drawn together, shadowing his eyes, but otherwise his face was expressionless. He raised his hands until two fingers rested on his mouth, an absent gesture she wondered if he was even aware of. The silver band stayed fixed in place around his wrist as if glued there, although it didn’t look tight.
Finally, he said, “Why should I help you, given your interest in sabotaging my relationship with Marley?”
Bingo. She’d gotten to him.
“Come on, now. You know the answer to that. If you outright refused, Marley would be so disappointed in you.”
“So I don’t refuse. You’re full of charms already. Other people’s charms are hard to remove.”
“Marley’s learning magic. Would that excuse work on her?”
“Probably not,” he admitted. “But you’re the fool that rushes in where angels fear to tread. She won’t expect my charms to save you from your own nature.”
“Oooh, that’s a downright villainous thing you’re implying.” Branwyn was impressed. If he gave her dangerous charms to dispose of her, or otherwise remove her influence over Marley, she’d be helpless to defend herself. “But it’d be bad for you if it didn’t work out. At best, you’d come off as incompetent. At worst, her enemy.”
He spread his hands, placing them flat on the desk. “Let’s remove Marley from the discussion. She doesn’t belong here anyhow. You’re not going to buy my assistance by changing your opinion of me. I’m not going to buy your good opinion with a few charms. We think of her because she is all we have in common.”
Taken aback, Branwyn could only think to say, “Not the only thing. There’s Tarn, too.”
Zachariah’s smile was so cold it sent chills down Branwyn’s spine. “Yes. There’s Tarn. And so I am going to help you, free of charge or obligation.”
Even more off balance, Branwyn sat up straight. “What? Why?” She had really expected that Marley would play into it somehow: that he’d try to convince her he was a good match for her friend, that she was wrong about his nature. Or even something else, but along those lines.
“I owe Tarn. I should pay him back.” She'd never heard that kind of nastiness in Zachariah's voice before. It was enough to make her briefly squirm with uncertainty. But only briefly. “Come.” He stood up and moved to the door.
“Uh, now?”
He turned back. “You wish to wait? You’ve changed your mind? A sense of self-preservation has awakened within you?”
Branwyn bristled. “Look, if I was as blind to danger as you all seem to think, would I be here, making nice with you so that I can arm myself?”
Nettled, Branwyn said, “I could have a hammer.”
“But that wouldn’t be polite.” His eyes mocked her even as his face resumed its previous seriousness. “Yes, now. Marley is occupying the children, so it will be safe.”
Branwyn worked on regaining her composure as she followed Zachariah. She could hear the girls laughing upstairs and Marley’s voice raised in amused scolding, and it reminded her of home.
Zachariah’s house was larger than her family's even though far fewer people lived there. It seemed like a waste of space, but somehow every room they passed had a clearly defined function. At last, Zachariah made his way to the corner of a large kitchen that smelled of disinfectant rather than dinner and revealed a descending staircase beyond a closed door. “Watch the steps,” he said, and went down.
Below the house, Zachariah had a wizard’s laboratory. It even looked like one, straight out of a fantasy movie, except for the computer humming in a corner and the concrete walls.
It was tidy, too. There was a complicated set of geometric shapes made of silver and copper and gold, layered on the floor in the center of the room, and many, many shelves lining the walls, filled with… stuff. Glass jars, plastic and metal canisters, cigar cases and security boxes, and the contents Branwyn could see seemed nonsensical: a rag doll, black feathers, ball bearings, poker chips.
“What, no alchemy set?” she asked. “This place really needs some glassware and a bubbling crucible.”
Zachariah opened his right hand, showing her his palm. “That’s what I have here. It’s much more convenient.”
Branwyn looked at his open hand, then activated the magical Sight. Just as Corbin did, Zachariah had the seven nodes of humanity along his spine and two more nodes located in the palms of his hands. Activating the palm nodes was advanced magic that a wizard could only perform on himself, so having them was a sign of at least basic competence. Not only was each of his nodes filled with complex charms, there was a web of strands around the bracelet he wore. Some kind of magic tool, she expected.
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