“Stop it.”
“Well, did he?”
“What was I supposed to do?” she exclaimed. “Take him with me, plunk him in some public school in Nashville, hide him in my dorm? He’d have been miserable with me.”
“I don’t know, he speaks of you fondly enough. Good old Hel who always looked out for him.” I watched her face work for a few seconds, then said, “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. You’re entitled to an education, and congratulations to you for escaping the silo. Daylight must be such a novel sensation.”
“Yeah, laugh it up,” she muttered. “I’ve heard all the Mole People jokes before. But look, I know the truth about Aiden now, and if he’s really fighting with Mom and Dad…well, it wouldn’t be that hard to get an off-campus apartment, not at the start of the semester. He could live with me…he’s too young for a full-time job,” she said, working it out as she spoke, “but if he took the SAT, he could start school by this time next year. Especially if I’m there to keep an eye on him. Problem solved.”
“And for now? You can’t bring him back to the silo.”
“If our parents are being difficult…I suppose we could do the holidays in the dorms,” she said, frowning into the corner. “Not ideal, but…but you have no right to keep him here,” she continued with renewed indignation, finding her message once more. “I’m his sister, I’ll take care of him.”
I studied her for a moment in silence, then murmured, “Greg didn’t tell you who Aiden’s mother was, did he?”
“Given that he’s here, I’d assume one of your people. I made the grand magus open a gate to Aiden before he got into the details—the Arcanum keeps blood samples around for location purposes,” she explained. “He said he’d had the tracking spell going for days. Led me right to him. What were you doing with him, anyway? Sending a mongrel up against a faerie? What’s that, some sort of sick joke?”
“He was trying to help me…diffuse…a situation,” I said. “And he might have done it, had you not butted in and started sparking.” I stood and headed past her to my bar. “Aiden’s my brother.”
“What?”
“He’s as much my blood as he is yours,” I continued, reaching for the scotch. “And as such, I also have a vested interest in his well-being. If you’d like to sit down, the couches aren’t booby-trapped.” She looked about uncertainly, finally shaken, and slunk to a free seat as I poured a neat double. “What’s your poison?”
“Vodka tonic,” she mumbled, staring into space.
“Oh, good. I was afraid you were going to name something pink in the martini family.” I fixed her drink and carried them to the coffee table, then sat across from her. “Ms. Carver,” I said as she took a cautious sip, “I’m not holding Aiden captive. If he wants to go, it’s his right. If he wants to stay, he’s welcome. I’m trying to help him.”
“By getting him killed?” she retorted, slamming her glass to the table as her thoughts snapped back into focus. “He’s a kid! He’s helpless—”
“And he’s trying to stand on his own feet. We were right there—it’s not as if I let him go without backup. I mean, yes, he’s young,” I said, swirling my scotch, “but you’ve got to give him room to be a man.”
She sat back and crossed her arms. “I’d rather him be alive and hating me than dead as a result of half-cocked self-actualization. He’s a fifteen-year-old mongrel. You let him square off again a faerie with a giant snake. Now, which of us is the responsible adult here?”
“Says the child who can’t legally purchase her vodka.”
“Bite me,” she huffed. “All right. You’re telling me my kid brother is a high lord, is that it?”
“Quick on the draw, aren’t you?”
Her dark eyes narrowed in exasperation. “We do learn something of the courts, you realize.”
“Not nearly enough.” As her brows knit, I sipped my drink, then said calmly, “You entered the realm without an express invitation or any guarantee of safe passage. You and your little stick are now in my office, defying me to my face. Has Greg taught you nothing about, oh, propriety or self-preservation?” I smirked as she began to pale, then shook my head. “Relax, kid, you’re in no immediate danger. If I’d thought you a legitimate threat, you’d be dead by now.”
I had to give her credit—the girl kept her composure remarkably well. “You’re not going to bully me into abandoning Aiden,” she said. “He’s my responsibility.”
“You’re tenacious, and I admire that, but the decision is Aiden’s, not yours. Nor mine, for that matter.” While she was preoccupied with finding a rebuttal, I glanced beneath the surface of her thoughts and drank in silence.
Finally, she said, “He needs to be around people his own age. Or hell, people my age. Maybe he’s not emotionally ready for college—I don’t know—but he could be learning something useful, meeting people, figuring out what he’s going to do with his life. I can help him.”
“Sure. And in a couple of years, you’ll go back to Montana and prepare to take the reins from Greg, and Aiden will be on his own. You can’t take him back to the silo with you,” I continued, watching her mouth tighten. “Boy’s a mongrel, right? Word’s bound to get around eventually. So you’re going to be grand magus before long, and Aiden will live out his days working a nine-to-five, maybe going to Fringe support meetings—”
“To what?”
“Exactly. He’ll have nothing to do with the Arcanum, and he’ll resent all of you for the rest of his life because he’s seen behind the curtain, he knows what’s really out there, and it’s been snatched away. So maybe he’ll meet that nice girl and settle down,” I said, speeding up to deny the wizard her opening, “and he’ll tell her he’s an orphan, because how else would he explain his family? Maybe he’ll have those two and a half kids and a Lab, and maybe they’ll be perfectly mundane, and no one will ever know Daddy’s little secret. Of course,” I said, leaning toward her, “you and I will be watching his every move for the next seventy-odd years, since he’ll be the perfect target. Your little brother, my little brother, and as you said, helpless. Easy pickings.” I paused, letting that sink in. “If that’s what he wants, so be it. But if he wants to stay here and see if something rubs off on him, then I’m not going to kick him out just because you think he needs to get on with his life.”
She sipped her drink in silence for a long moment, then put it down and murmured, “You can’t keep him safe here.”
“At least as safe as you can over there,” I countered. “Really, sending him off to battle his niece is only an occasional event. He spends most of his time either playing with his robots or hanging around with Joey.”
“Who?”
“The fellow with the dragon.”
“Oh, right,” she muttered. “That’s so reassuring.”
“He’s twenty-five, he’s responsible enough. And like it or not, Aiden seems happy.”
She sighed and scowled at the carpet. “So how am I supposed to tell Mom and Dad that I left him here with you?”
“Honestly?” I finished my scotch, and the dirty glass vanished. “Perhaps I’m mistaken, but the impression I’ve gotten thus far is that you may be the one person in that hole who gives a damn. Well, maybe your mother, too,” I amended. “Maybe Greg. But I can’t see your father shedding many tears if Aiden were to drop off the face of the earth. Can you?” She struggled for a response, and I said, “Ms. Carver, I know you’re concerned. The extent of your concern is admirable. The fact that you would take on an angry faerie and something out of the Gray Lands out of concern for Aiden is also admirable, even if it makes me concerned for your overall sanity. But you didn’t do this to Aiden,” I continued quietly. “You didn’t make him like this, you didn’t ‘hog’ the talent. And you can’t protect him forever. Maybe I can.”
She looked up, the light of challenge glowing once more in her eyes. “I’m stronger than you think.”
“I don’t doubt that you’re strong, but let’s be realistic
about this. Which of us is better equipped?”
Her hand snaked behind her coat and emerged with her wand as she went to her feet. “I’m not some pushover witch,” she insisted, slipping behind the couch. “I don’t even need the wand half the time. I can hold my own, and as for Aiden—”
“Oh, you can hold your own, can you?” I echoed, chuckling. “I’m sure you’re quite formidable against your peers, but do you think—”
A sudden bolt of force from the wand cut me off, and I shielded, deflecting it to dissipate harmlessly near the ceiling. “You really want to rumble?” I asked her incredulously. “You and me, here, now?”
She gritted her teeth and nodded, wand at the ready.
“All right, then,” I said, spreading my arms, “take your best shot, kid.”
And she did. The blast that flew from the tip of her wand put her warning shot to shame, but I concentrated on my shield and held her at bay. She danced around the room, trying to get around the shield, but I’d been in enough fights with wizards to anticipate her choreography—the Arcanum, grown fat and lazy, hadn’t developed any new fighting techniques in centuries. I let her go on the offensive for a few minutes, giving her time to wear herself out, then dropped my shield and grabbed her in an invisible chokehold. An instant later, she was flat against the ceiling, coughing against the pressure on her trachea and kicking at nothing.
“Drop the stick,” I murmured as she purpled.
She resisted as long as she could, then let her wand fall to the rug. I picked it up, turned it over in my hands, then dropped her back to the ground, jerking her to a stop an instant before she hit the floor. “Nice construction,” I said, studying the decorative flourishes carved into her wand as she wheezed at my feet. “Obviously not a witch’s tool. I assume Rick made this?”
She looked up at me, eyes watering, and struggled for breath. “You…cheat…”
“Cheat?” I laughed, tossing the wand back to her. “Hardly. That’s how you wield magic, Ms. Carver.” I squatted down, watching her rub her bruising throat. “I may be new to this job, but I’m still a king. Certain power comes with the throne. If I wanted you dead, little girl, I’d have stopped your heart before you got your hand on that pretty wand of yours. Consider this a lesson,” I added, standing once more, “and tell your teachers they’ve been remiss in their instruction.”
When her gasping calmed, she tucked the wand away and pushed herself from the floor, red-faced and disheveled but seemingly in control. A peek below her surface revealed the storm within, however—anger and humiliation raging against the knowledge that she was, for once, impotent—and I stepped away, giving her a bit of breathing room. “That was, perhaps, uncalled for,” I said, leaning against the bar. “Are you hurt?”
“Fine,” she croaked, absently massaging her neck.
I watched her return to her seat, then offered, “Greg wouldn’t have fared any better, you know.” Her head shot up, and I thought I detected a flash of surprise beneath her façade. “It’s the truth—he’s powerful for what he is, but we’re playing in different leagues, so to speak. All things considered, you handled yourself well,” I continued, pouring a fresh drink. “I’m sure you’re a match for any wizard, Ms. Carver, and your training is evident. Stop doubting yourself.”
Her eyes widened. “How did—”
“Fae. Refill?” I asked, tipping the open bottle toward her. She nodded, and I whipped up a second vodka tonic, going heavy on the vodka to assuage my sudden guilt at her bruises. “Greg hasn’t been grand magus this long due to brute strength,” I told her as I headed for the couch. “Half of his power comes from understanding and working around his limitations. Get that part down, and you’ll be his equal. Until then, try to remember that cockiness gets you killed, kid.”
She waited as I drank, then mumbled, “I thought…you know, we’ve, uh…”
“The Arcanum has killed faeries in the past?” I finished for her. “Yes, I’m well aware. Been on the target end of that a few times,” I added, smiling to myself to see her squirm. “But they seldom send a lone wizard to do the job—that’s nearly always suicidal. You have better success in groups, and if you’re wise, you’ll forget the sticks entirely.” The wizard frowned, and I explained, “I smell magic. Your wands reek of it. More importantly, the odds of besting a faerie in a contest of magic are slim—you’re better served with a knife.”
“A knife,” she echoed doubtfully.
“Yeah. Knife, sword, something sharp and iron-based. A gun’s not a bad backup, but they’re easy enough to jam. Hell, a bag of ball bearings and a slingshot would be a better idea than waving a stick around and hoping for the best. Trust me,” I said, lifting my glass, “if you want the job done, you go armed with iron. Silver’s effective but impractical as a true weapon. Too soft.”
She bit her lip as she mulled this over. “And you’re telling me this because…”
“Because it might save your life someday,” I replied, turning the empty glass back to dust, “and because Aiden, at least, would mourn your passing. But seriously, when you see him next, do impress upon Greg the fact that you thought you could take me on by yourself. He’ll have a heart attack, but at least he’ll know where your education is lacking.” I watched her as she sipped her drink and noticed again the angry discolorations around her throat. “Neck still sore?”
“It’ll be fine.”
“I can dull the pain for you, if you’d like,” I said, then caught her expression and offered, “Or Toula—she’s down the hall, and it’s not as if she’s doing much until Aiden wakes.”
The girl snorted and massaged her neck. “Yeah, like I’m going to let Toula Pavli come near me with a wand.”
“You make it sound like she’s Wizard Hitler. I’m fairly sure she’s not doing anything to harm Aiden.”
“Ever heard of Apollonios Pavli?” she retorted.
“Does she behave like her father?” I countered. “Come to think of it, if we’re going by that logic, does your brother behave like Titania?”
“That’s not—”
“That’s exactly the same comparison,” I said, cutting her protest short. “Toula isn’t a mass murderer, and Aiden isn’t Mother. Trust me on that one,” I muttered, “I knew her.” She continued to regard me uneasily, and I sighed. “Look, Ms. Carver, we may as well try to be civil for Aiden’s sake. Especially if Greg’s tapped you for—”
“Helen.”
I paused, thrown by the interruption. “Come again?”
“Helen,” she repeated. “I suppose, if we’re going to be dealing with each other…I’m Helen.”
“As you like,” I said with a nod. “Coileán. Or Colin, one’s as good as the other.” I waited, studying her inscrutable expression, then quietly told her, “I’m not the enemy, you know. Greg and I have managed to stay on speaking terms thus far. I just want what’s best for Aiden.”
“So do I,” she began, but whatever followed slipped past me as the realm, which had been quietly complaining ever since I’d had the audacity to let Toula and Helen into Faerie, sent up an excited shout. I cried aloud and grabbed my temples with the volume of the realm’s joy, and I felt Helen’s hand on my shoulder an instant later. “What’s wrong?” she asked through the internal clamor. “Are you all right? What’s happening?”
Before I could answer, the door flew open and Oberon strolled in, still sporting his board shorts and faded flip-flops. “Sounds like someone missed me,” he said, rubbing one ear. “Do hope I’m not interrupting.”
I forced myself off the couch and slid in front of the wizard, blocking her in case of sudden enchantment. “What are you doing here?” I demanded as the ringing in my head began to subside.
He spread his hands and smirked. “Am I not allowed to see my dear granddaughter? You did bring her back here, I take it.” He glanced around my office and gave it a cursory nod. “Bit more subdued than your mother’s style. She’d have hated what you’ve done with the place.”
> “Stay away from her.”
Oberon rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’m not here to kill her—unless you’ve reconsidered? No?” My glare was as good as an answer, and he shrugged. “All right, but it’s your funeral, boy. As long as you’re keeping her alive, I thought I might offer some assistance.”
That set off every alarm, though I tried to keep my face still. “Meaning?”
“Meaning you obviously can’t construct a bind to save your life. I’ll bind her for you, do it properly this time. As long as you keep her from returning to Faerie, it should hold.”
He had a point, but I knew well enough not to leap into a bargain blind. “What’s in it for you, then?”
“Aside from protecting my investments against marauding children and their pet snakes? Entertainment. You, my idiot daughter, and little Mordred, trying to make a family if it kills you. Believe me, Coileán,” he said with a cold smile, “I’m willing to play the long game.”
“And what’s that?” I snapped. “Sit back and wait until we implode?”
“Precisely.” An open bottle of Corona appeared in his hand, and he took a long swig. “This little fantasy you’ve concocted can’t last,” he said, wiping his mouth. “The girl’s a walking bomb. If you had even the most common of sense, you’d realize that, but you don’t, and there’s no convincing fools of their foolishness. And so I’ll be in the wings until you see the light or she destroys you, whichever comes first.” He raised his bottle in a mocking salute. “Sentiment’s going to be your downfall, you know. And what’s that, a pet wizard?” he added, glancing around me at Helen.
She stepped forward, head high but wand tucked away. “Not pet,” she replied in badly accented Fae. “You—”
“I’ll handle this,” I interrupted, trying to push her back to relative safety, but Oberon chuckled.
“Go on, let the little thing speak for herself,” he said, grinning as the girl tried to keep up. “What does one do with a pet wizard, anyway?”
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