by Robyn Bachar
Could I truly walk away from the guardian’s company, now that I knew what I could do with my magic? There was so much good I could do within the city, so many people I could help…
“What a lovely little boy. You must be so proud.”
Startled, I froze in midrock and turned toward the speaker. The statuesque faerie woman stood a few feet away, eyeing me thoughtfully.
“Who are you? What do you want?” I demanded. Fear threatened to drown me, but I struggled to remain calm. I had no defensive magic. There was nothing I could do if she decided to attack me, but if she had meant me harm she could have done so before announcing her presence.
“You may call me Helen, and I want what any wife wants. To carry her husband’s child.”
“And you think murdering innocent girls will help you achieve that?”
“Those girls were hardly innocent.” Helen tossed her head, setting her mane of dark, glossy hair into motion like a cascade of indignant curls. She really was stunningly beautiful, like an ancient Mediterranean goddess, but there was something wrong with her. Like a diamond, she was beautiful, but cold and hard.
“I am sorry for your condition, but murder is not the answer,” I said.
“Sorry? You’re sorry?” she repeated, her voice jumping a shrill octave. Robert began crying, and I held him closer. “You couldn’t possibly understand. You have a nursery filled with children, both yours and your sister’s. You have given your husband heirs. Multiple heirs, in your puny lifetime.” She waved a hand at Robert. “I have had centuries to conceive, and nothing. Nothing.”
My throat tightened with terror, and I continued to stare at her. Helen stepped closer and knelt next to my chair.
“Please, you mustn’t tell the council what you saw. We are so close with our research. It is only a matter of time now before we find a cure for our sterility. Surely a few lives are worth saving an entire race?”
“But how many lives would you take? A dozen? A hundred? A thousand?” I asked.
“Whatever it takes. Please, Mrs. Black. All I want to do is give my husband a son. You must know how important that is. You have such a lovely little boy. It would be a shame if something happened to him.” She eyed Robert like a serpent about to strike.
I leapt from my chair and stumbled away, unsure of what to do because Helen stood between us and the door. She smiled an evil, predatory grin, but before she could attack, the door burst open and two dark blurs streaked through. One blur was Michael, who shoved Robert and me behind him. The other blur was Simon, and as I peeked around my husband I saw Simon grab Helen by the throat and lift her from the ground.
For a moment she glared at him with a dry expression, but then her eyes widened and she clawed frantically at his hand. I couldn’t think of a single reason why a faerie would be afraid of a chronicler, but in that moment, Helen was terrified.
“Stay away from my family, or next time I will break your neck. Do you understand?” Simon asked. Helen continued to fight him, and he shook her like a terrier with a rat in its jaws. “Do you?”
“Yes,” she croaked. He released her, and she vanished into thin air.
“Are you all right?” Michael asked as he embraced Robert and me.
Numb, I nodded in reply. My mind was struggling to wrap around the two truths that had just occurred in front of me: Simon had just successfully threatened a faerie, and Simon considered us his family. The latter made sense in a way. I had always thought that Simon looked upon Michael as his son in addition to his student. I suppose that did make us his family. The former, on the other hand, made no sense at all.
Robert was screaming—rightfully so, I could not fault him for it—and after eyeing me for a moment Simon held his arms out to take the baby. Certain that the world had indeed gone mad, I obliged him, and Robert quieted.
I blinked. “If this keeps up I may hire you as the new nanny.”
“Thank you, but I already have steady employment. Who was she?” Simon asked.
“She said her name was Helen. She confronted us as we were fleeing Faerie with Miss Thistlegoode and tried to stop our escape. This time she begged me not to testify against her.”
“It would be safer,” Michael said.
I poked him in the chest. “It would not be safer for the innocent young women they are no doubt still murdering as we speak. She’s mad. She thinks she can cure her sterility with the blood of those girls.”
“Now that we know her name we will reinforce the wards,” Simon said. “We should also send word to Miss Dubois.”
“You are full of surprises lately,” I commented. I was impressed by his offer of informing the guardian of the situation.
Simon looked down at Robert, who had miraculously fallen asleep with his head pillowed against the chronicler’s shoulder. “It appears you are domesticating me.”
“Robert loves his Uncle Simon,” Michael said with a teasing smile.
Lord and Lady. What next?
Chapter Twelve
The men surrounded the house with so many wards that I began to feel as though the walls were closing in on me, and the horrid yellow wallpaper of my room began to take on a menacing quality. The idea of returning home early had never been so appealing, as I longed for a day without being plagued by my constant headache, but I simply could not leave now. Not before matters were taken care of; the faerie problem obviously needed to be solved before they launched a new plan of attack. It was a tense few days waiting for the return of the Oberon, and once he arrived Miss Dubois made certain that we were his first appointment.
Because Michael and I were not faerie-blooded, I had never had occasion to meet Lucius Grey, the Oberon of Britain, before. He did not attend the general magician gatherings. I assumed that being quite important, he attended gatherings where only important magicians were invited. Perhaps if I continued to aid Miss Dubois I would be considered somewhat important, though judging by how long the Oberon made us wait in his parlor, I doubted that he considered Miss Dubois important at all. It was an opulent parlor, where every possible surface and edge that could be gilt-covered gleamed with gold. The décor tended toward pastoral paintings filled with apple-cheeked shepherdesses and fluffy white sheep. Having been raised by librarians, I was far more interested in the contents of a person’s library than I was in the art he collected.
Dr. Bennett and Miss Dubois arrived shortly before I did with my chronicler entourage. My brow rose in question to Dr. Bennett, and he shook his head very slightly. Apparently he had not informed Miss Dubois of their connection. I fought the urge to pull him aside and pepper him with questions. What could he be waiting for? Unless he was preparing to propose, which would be quite lovely.
Steam was almost pouring from Miss Dubois’s ears by the time the Oberon deigned to send someone for us. Our motley party ventured forth through another golden hallway, and we entered what I could only describe as a throne room. Undoubtedly Queen Victoria would have something to say about the Oberon’s overdeveloped sense of worth.
Though I often mocked Simon for being too tall, Lucius Grey was a mountain of a man who dwarfed the chronicler. Tall like a giant and broad of shoulder, he would have intimidated any sane being with his stature alone, but his wild white mane and long, scraggly beard added to the effect. From the overbearing iciness of his energy I took him for a powerful ice sorcerer, though being Oberon, the impression could be due to an abundance of frost faerie blood.
My inner seer wanted to study his energy further, but judging by the glare he pierced us with, I doubted I would have the opportunity. He lorded over the room from a golden throne decorated with intertwined leaves and golden-winged figures that I assumed were supposed to be faeries.
“I understand you have wild accusations of wrongdoing regarding a well-respected faerie clan, guardian. What do you have to say for yourself?” the Oberon asked.
Justine stepped forward, chin up, shoulders squared, her hands resting on the handle of the pink parasol in fron
t of her. “I entered the stronghold of the Infernus clan within Faerie, and recovered a kidnapped woman, Miss Thistlegoode. She had been assaulted, her limbs cut in order to collect her blood in several marble vessels, and she later died of her wounds. I witnessed several other deceased women in similar circumstances while searching for Miss Thistlegoode, and judging by the number of rooms in the area, I suspect the Infernus clan has abducted and killed far more than the number we are certain about.”
He barked a sharp laugh. “Certain? I see little certainty of anything in this fantastical tale of yours. You expect me to believe that an entire clan of faeries has been murdering magician women? Preposterous.”
“Are you questioning the word of a guardian, Lucius Grey?” Justine asked. The iron in her tone made me take an involuntary step back, and I bumped into Michael, who put a comforting hand on my shoulder.
“Yes, Miss Dubois, I am. I see no reason to believe you, just as I see no reason why the Infernus clan would turn to a life of crime.”
“But they are using the blood of the young women in an attempt to cure their sterility. That woman, Helen, admitted it to me,” I said in protest. I could almost hear the exasperated “Emily!” that echoed through Simon’s and Michael’s minds as though they had spoken it aloud. The Oberon turned his attention to me, eyeing me with disdain. It was an expression I had had directed at me often.
“You must be the seer,” he said.
“I am.”
“What am I thinking at this moment?”
I sighed and focused on his aura again. “I am a seer, not a mind reader. I can tell you that there is ice magic in your aura, though I would need to examine it further to properly determine whether it is from sorcery or faerie blood.” The magic shifted and dimmed as he began shielding himself, but his irritation was still clear. Not that I needed my seer’s abilities to be aware of that.
“And you say you spoke with Helen directly?” he asked.
“I did. She appeared in my bedroom and begged me not to testify about the things I had seen in Faerie. When I refused she threatened to harm my children.”
“Can you prove this?”
I blinked, startled. How does one prove the presence of a faerie? Should I have attacked her and torn out a lock of her hair?
“My apprentice and I also saw her, Lord Oberon,” Simon said. “We were alerted to the faerie’s presence when she penetrated our wards, and we found her in Mrs. Black’s room. I seized the intruder and warned her not to interfere with our family.”
Our family. Perhaps I truly had inherited Simon as part of the family when I married Michael.
The Oberon did not seem impressed by Simon’s statement. “Of course you would not lie to protect your family.”
“In fact I am indicting my family. My father was an Infernus faerie,” Simon said. I turned and gaped at him in shock, and saw that Michael was equally stunned. As usual, Simon appeared calm and unflappable.
The Oberon grunted. “I am still not convinced—”
“I demand to speak with the Council of Three. Now,” Miss Dubois interrupted.
The Oberon rose and loomed like a threatening thundercloud. “Do not presume to give me orders, girl,” he boomed. I jumped as his words echoed through the room.
“I am an agent of the higher powers. You will do as I say or suffer my wrath, Lord Oberon,” Justine threatened. I wasn’t sure how she managed it, but her voice sounded equally imposing, which was quite impressive considering her petite build.
The Oberon made the mistake of laughing, and with a war cry that would have made a Spartan proud she charged him. Her parasol shimmered and became her sword and shield, and she bashed him with the shield and sent him flying back into his throne. The gaudy piece toppled backward and he fell to the floor, and Justine stood above him, her blade at his throat.
“You will arrange a meeting with the faerie council. Tonight. I have ignored your ridiculous blustering, but no longer! I am a guardian, and you will respect me as such, or I will kill you and find a more agreeable replacement. Am I making myself clear?”
He growled something in reply that might have been a yes. Justine seemed placated and stepped back, allowing him to get to his feet.
“I will make the arrangements. If you will return to the parlor. Please,” he added as an afterthought.
“Very well.” Justine led us out again, and when we were away from the room I tapped my husband’s arm.
“May I have a sword?” I asked Michael, and he frowned.
“No, you certainly may not.”
“Perhaps a pistol then? Something small that could fit in a handbag?” I suggested.
“No, Emily. You cause enough trouble as it is,” Simon commented.
“Mrs. Black does not cause trouble. She solves trouble,” Justine corrected from the head of our party.
“Thank you.” I glowed with pride.
“Trust me, Miss Dubois, my wife has caused her fair share of trouble, but I will agree that she has a knack for solving problems as well,” Michael said.
When we returned to the parlor Justine turned her attention to Simon. “You are half-blooded?”
“I am, yes,” he replied.
“I’ve never met a half-blood before. Even the Oberon cannot claim that much faerie heritage. Can you give us any insight into the Infernus clan?” she asked.
I had never heard the term before, but it was self-explanatory. It did seem remarkable, for the faerie-blooded magicians I had met were only distantly connected to their faerie relatives. I knew it had been more common in the past for faeries to dally with magicians. Though I didn’t know why it had stopped being a common practice. Perhaps affairs with mortals had fallen out of fashion.
“Very little. Likely nothing you don’t already know,” Simon replied. If I hadn’t known better, I would have said he seemed bashful about it. “I did not learn the truth of my heritage until I was an adult, and I never learned my father’s name. I know far more about my abilities than about the family that gave them to me.”
“What abilities?” Justine asked.
Simon held his right hand out, palm up, and a ball of fire appeared on it.
“How marvelous,” I said, impressed.
Librarians can cast any sort of spell—it is one of their unique abilities—but the spell is much weaker than if it had been cast by the magician who created it. Thus a librarian can create a fireball, but nothing like the flaming sphere that Simon held. His fireball appeared as strong as a fire sorcerer’s would be, and that was remarkable indeed.
“Why don’t the two of you compare notes? Dr. Bennett, may I speak with you for a moment? I fear I may be feeling lingering effects from the blood loss,” I said.
“Yes, of course,” the doctor replied.
I pulled him off to one side, and Michael followed, studying me with concern. “Are you unwell?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m fine. I wanted to hear how matters are proceeding between Dr. Bennett and Miss Dubois.”
Dr. Bennett immediately began cleaning his spectacles. “I have not had a chance to speak with her about it. The opportune moment has not arisen.”
Michael cleared his throat. “In my experience, it is best to get these things out in the open as soon as possible.”
“Is that so?” I quirked a brow at him. Michael smiled at me, and for a moment I thought he intended to kiss me affectionately, but the ghost of a blush stained his cheeks and he folded his hands in front of him.
“The sooner you are both aware of it, the sooner the two of you can begin your lives together,” he said.
Dr. Bennett ceased fussing with his eyewear and sent one longing glance in Justine’s direction. “Perhaps you’re right, though I’m not certain she’ll have me. I am not a guardian.”
“But she is in the employ of the higher powers, and they meant you for each other. I doubt anyone could argue with that,” I pointed out.
“You’re right.” He nodded, standing a bit straighter. “I w
ill tell her tonight, after we leave.”
“Good for you. I hope you both are very happy,” Michael said. The doctor wandered over to stand at his lady’s side, and my husband turned to me. “Are you happy?”
“I love you,” I replied.
“That isn’t necessarily the same thing,” he said, and I nodded.
“I know. You’re not always an easy man to love, but I am happy to be a wife and a mother. But I am also a seer, and I would like to continue using my abilities to help Miss Dubois.”
“I don’t like seeing you in danger.”
“I don’t enjoy being in danger,” I agreed. “We have spent so much time ensuring that you use your magic to its fullest. It only seems fair that I be allowed the same consideration. Although…” I trailed off, thinking of my dream of the future and the nightmare of Simon’s past. If I became—I wasn’t sure what I would become, being neither chronicler nor necromancer. A blood drinker, certainly.
“Although?” Michael prompted.
I took a deep breath, preparing to inform him of what I had seen, but then I was transported out of the room along with Miss Dubois and Dr. Bennett. The three of us suddenly stood in a great marble hall, a splendid room like I imagined Mount Olympus would look like. Instead of ancient Greek gods, we stood in front of three female faeries. I hoped we weren’t in trouble, and I was very grateful for the fact that Michael had given me his spare pocket watch in case of any other surprise trips to Faerie. I truly loved that man.
“Guardian Dubois. I do not believe that we have been properly introduced yet.” The middle faerie spoke. Her skin was dark green, and her spindly brown hair appeared to be made of twigs and sticks. I vowed to never complain about how dry my own hair could become in the winter.
“Yes, Lady Hippolyta. I am Justine Dubois, and my companions are Dr. Andrew Bennett, a witch, and Mrs. Emily Black, a seer.”