Rituals

by Kelley Armstrong

  "Of course not." Patrick got to his feet, taking the book from me and putting it back. "But if you're suggesting--"

  "What exactly is Grace's building? It seems mostly vacant. Ricky opened a door to an apartment earlier this fall and got a blast of cold air that wasn't from an overworked air-conditioner. When Grace reopened that door, it was an ordinary apartment. So what is going on there? What's the big secret?"

  "I can't tell you."

  I glowered at him.

  "I can't," he said. "I've been warned that if I break your contract with the elders, I lose my place on the council, which means you lose an ally when you're going to need one most."

  "If I don't understand what her building really is, how do I come up with explanations for why the sluagh were in it?"

  "You ask Ida. Just don't expect answers. You need a theory--with evidence--for her to confirm."

  "If that theory is in your books, Patrick, say so," Gabriel said. "This is not the time for riddles."

  "The answers are in that apartment building. Where Grace currently is not, being locked in a meeting with Ida to discuss what happened this morning. Which means you can go there and see what you find."

  "In Grace's apartment building?" Gabriel said.

  "This is the one we're talking about, is it not?"

  "I'm clarifying, because I'm sure you cannot mean the building where Olivia already encountered the sluagh."

  "Don't go in that particular room."

  Gabriel's look was cold enough to make even Patrick inch back.

  "Go in the apartment Ricky saw," Patrick said. "The sluagh won't appear there."

  "As they did not appear in the visions created by your book?"

  "I still think that was a self-induced vision..." He trailed off as Gabriel's look froze a few degrees more. "Stay in the hall. Take the hound. You'll be fine."

  --

  We stood outside the apartment where Ricky got that arctic blast. Lloergan sat beside us. Patrick perched on the front porch, after saying loudly, "I'll just wait out here while you kids get Liv's stuff from her apartment."

  As expected, the door was locked. As also expected, Gabriel's touch unlocked it. I opened the door and then staggered back, hit by a blast of icy air.

  Gabriel caught my arm as I surged forward.

  "I'm not going to race past you," I said.

  "No, but you'll get as close as you can, which will eventually be too close."

  Lloergan grunted.

  "Thanks for the support," I said to her.

  She nosed the door lintel then lifted her head, sniffed, and made a noise in her throat, more rumble than growl, as if she wasn't quite sure what lay beyond, either, but she wasn't dead set against further exploration.

  I eased the door open more and...

  Snow.

  A drift of snow blocked the hall. I walked in and bent to touch it, to be sure of what I was seeing. I scooped up a handful and squeezed it into a snowball. I could feel the icy cold, but it didn't melt.

  Lloergan moved past me and snuffled the snow, snorting when she got a noseful. Then she pushed through the drift and continued on into the living room.

  "Safe enough?" I said.

  "I suppose so," Gabriel murmured.

  We walked into the next room and...

  Ice. Snow and ice. That's all I saw at first. A room decorated with snow and ice. A room made of snow and ice.

  Walls of ice with what looked like a blue sky and bright sun above, the sunlight making the snow glitter and gleam. Snow drifted into every corner, waves of it, like a white desert. And in the center, an Arctic oasis--sheer ice over a water hole.

  As I watched, a seal swam beneath the hole. A white seal. I raced out for a better look and nearly face-planted on the ice. I thudded onto one knee as Gabriel caught me.

  Under the ice, the seal looked up. Huge brown eyes met mine. Then it gave a start, and I pulled back.

  "I think we should go," I said.

  Lloergan and Gabriel both made noises of agreement. As I turned to leave, a crackle sounded behind me. Then, "Matilda?"

  I turned to see a woman rising from a hole in the ice. She had long, graying blond hair, and she was naked from the waist up, her lower half still seal.

  When Gabriel turned away quickly, she chuckled. "Is this better, Gwynn?" A cloak of sealskin appeared over her shoulders as she rose. Her voice had a rasp to it, and while she didn't look much older than my mother, she moved carefully, like a senior citizen worried about slipping.

  "I'm sorry to disturb you," I said.

  The selkie smiled. "You're curious. You're fae. I suspect you aren't supposed to be here, but you're quite welcome--"

  The room stuttered. Snow swirled, and the selkie vanished behind it. When I blinked against the wind, I opened my eyes to find myself in an empty apartment. An ordinary apartment.

  "Mmm, I don't think this is your place, Liv," Patrick said. "Has it really been that long?"

  I looked over to see him in the doorway, with Ida glowering behind him.

  "I'm sure you find this very amusing, bocan," Ida said, "but I'll strongly suggest you attempt the impossible and keep your mouth shut before it gets you in more trouble. Now get out of there. Both of you." She looked at Lloergan. "All three of you."

  "It's not Patrick's fault," I said. "After what happened this morning, we needed answers."

  "You're not allowed them until you open negoti--"

  Gabriel cut in. "The terms of the contract do not prohibit Olivia from obtaining answers on her own. You cannot punish her--or claim contractual violation--if she does. We needed to determine the nature of Grace's building in order to better understand what we experienced this morning."

  "It's a nursing home, isn't it?" I said. "A place for old fae to live in their natural environments and make them comfortable at the end of their lives."

  "Are you ready to tear up our contract, Olivia?" Ida asked.

  Gabriel's voice lowered, words enunciated carefully. "I hope I'm misinterpreting, Ida. Otherwise it might sound as if you are using what happened this morning as leverage. Allowing Olivia's life to be endangered, so that she must terminate the contract for answers. May I remind you that the end of the contract means the beginning of Olivia's choice. Between the Tylwyth Teg--who have blocked and manipulated and lied to her--and the Cwn Annwn--who have been as honest and forthright and helpful as they can be. You have a serious misunderstanding of human nature if you believe this is the proper time to hasten her decision."

  "She doesn't," Grace said, walking in and fixing Ida with a beady-eyed glare before turning to me. "Yes, Liv, this is where we give sanctuary to fae at the end of their lives."

  I glanced at Patrick, who confirmed it with a discreet nod.

  "But that doesn't explain my vision this morning," I said.

  "We're going to ask you to tell us exactly what you saw," Grace said. "But not here. You've poked around my home, Liv. It's time to show me yours."

  --

  "I'm tired," Gabriel announced as we walked into my parlor.

  Ida turned to him. "I realize you didn't sleep last night, and for humans that is difficult. But I'm also well aware that as someone who is less than half human, one night without sleep hardly impedes you, Gabriel, so if you are using that excuse--"

  "It is not physical exhaustion. It is mental. Psychological. Emotional. I am tired. Beyond tired. Tired of your bullshit, Ida. I don't use that word lightly. Olivia is your Matilda--the woman who can save your town--and you treat her like a nosy and meddlesome child."

  Ida's mouth opened.

  Gabriel cut her off. "If you dare to say she brought this on herself--with the contract--then I swear, Ida, I will do everything in my power to convince Olivia that the Cwn Annwn are the proper choice, and you--and all of Cainsville--can go to hell."

  Patrick slow clapped. When Ida spun on him, he said, "Oh, but you deserved that. You've deserved it for a very long time."

  "You aren't helping, bocan."
/>
  "And neither are you, Ida," Grace said. "Gabriel has had enough. And he's finally found the guts to stand up to you and say so. You'll do well to remember who he is and listen."

  "Sluagh," Patrick said. "Gabriel and Liv saw the sluagh, so let's cut straight to that and leave the do-si-do'ing to the local square dance chapter."

  "We have a square dance chapter?" I said.

  "No, but we should. Maybe I'll start one."

  He shot me a smile for helping him break the tension. We moved to sit, Gabriel and I taking the davenport.

  "Sluagh?" Ida stayed standing where she'd been.

  "Yes, and don't pretend you're shocked, Ida," Patrick said.

  "If you're suggesting--"

  "That you knew they were here? Of course not. I'm suggesting that Grace saw enough to know what it was."

  "I'm surprised Olivia still runs to you for help, Patrick, after she learned who you really are, what you did."

  "Round and round we go, getting nowhere. Liv and Gabriel went to Rose for sluagh folklore. When I spoke to Rose, she told me about it. I sought them out to correct the folklore. Now, moving along..."

  "The sluagh," I said. "No matter how old they might be, I don't think they warrant a room in Grace's Home for Aged Fae."

  "Absolutely not," Ida said.

  "Then what the hell were they doing there?"

  "That's what Veronica is trying to find out. Walter is assisting. At this point, we don't wish to involve the other elders, and we'll ask you to respect that. For fae, sluagh are..."

  "The bogeyman." Patrick met Ida's glower with a level look. "The darkness. The unforgiven. The thing we cannot name. What else is that if not the bogeyman? Unfortunately, in this case, it's not an imaginary monster concocted by parents to frighten children. But yes, Liv, I'll agree you should keep this quiet until we know more. And stay in Cainsville until we know more."

  "Even if the sluagh are here?" I said.

  "Veronica has applied wards as a precautionary measure," Ida said. "We'll ask you not to return to Grace's building, because we can't use the wards there--they would affect the elderly fae."

  "So we need to stay in Cainsville?"

  "Just don't venture anyplace you might both fall asleep. Also, avoid intentionally triggering visions anywhere except in this house. The sluagh can't simply swoop down Main Street, but they can attack through dreams and visions."

  "And possibly through Patrick's books." I summarized our experience and then looked at Patrick. "Yes, I know. You believe we caused the visions ourselves. I'm not disagreeing. I just think we need to consider the possibility that isn't the explanation."

  "Tell us the full story," Ida said.

  "We were watching the sluagh attack someone who'd been falsely convicted of a crime and marked for the sluagh. Then the sluagh was there, with us. It said I belonged to them."

  "What?" Genuine alarm spiked Ida's voice.

  "It said I'd been bought and paid for. Exact wording."

  Ida shook her head. "No, absolutely not."

  "It called us Gwynn and Matilda, but it clearly wasn't mistaking us for the originals."

  Ida looked sick.

  Startled, I glanced at Grace, who seemed to be shimmering between the old woman and the fae.

  "It's a mistake," Grace said finally. "A trick. No, a lie. It must be a lie."

  "And if it's not?" Gabriel said.

  "Stay here," Ida said. "In this house, please. With the hound. Lock the doors. Allow no one in but Grace or myself. We'll bring you dinner and anything else you need."

  Patrick cleared his throat.

  "What?" Ida snapped.

  "Perhaps you should let them decide who brings their meals."

  "Now, bocan?" Ida's voice rose. "You still need to prove you are their favorite?"

  "No," he said evenly. "I was going to suggest Rose."

  "Yes," Gabriel said. "We would prefer Rose. We will stay here until morning, but no longer. We are not children. If this isn't resolved by then, you will need to tell us how to stay safe."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  "No, apparently not," Gabriel said as he stood at my front window, watching the elders leave.

  "No to what?" I said from the couch.

  "You were about to say, 'So, I guess no cabin tonight,' and then you realized I might not appreciate the reminder."

  His phone rang. Lydia's ring tone. He took it out but only looked down at the screen.

  I was about to comment when my own phone blipped.

  "Ricky," I said. "I should bring him up to speed. How about you go upstairs and call Lydia back. I'll update Ricky, and then I'll make us a snack. You must be hungry."

  He looked vaguely confused, as if I was asking whether he felt like roller-blading. Then he said, in his normally brisk tone, "Yes, thank you. Food would be wise. I'll speak to Lydia upstairs."

  --

  Fifteen minutes later, Gabriel's footfalls thumped down the steps as he called, "Olivia?" with fear lacing his voice. "I smell--"

  "Fire?" I leaned out the parlor door. "That would be me, trying to be sneaky and forgetting to open the flue. Apparently, closing the door didn't block the smell as much as I'd hoped. So, having ruined my surprise, ummm..." I threw open the door. "Ta-da?"

  He walked over, still looking not entirely convinced that the house wasn't about to go up in smoke. Then he stopped in the entrance and blinked.

  "Can't actually see anything, can you?" I said. "Between the lingering smoke and the fact that I tried to make the room as dark as possible. Simulated nighttime." I waved at the drawn shades. "I even taped them down. So, having ruined the presentation twice...third time's the charm?"

  I flicked on a lamp. His gaze had been fixed on the roaring fire. Now it moved to the space before the fireplace, where I'd pushed aside the table and laid out as many blankets and pillows as I could quietly scrounge up. On the relocated table, I'd set out a tray of finger food and an ice bucket with Krug vintage champagne, one of the many birthday gifts I'd gotten from old friends who hadn't made actual contact since my life exploded.

  "Oh, wait, final touch."

  I scampered to a side table, flipped through my phone apps, and hit Start on one. The sound of the crashing surf filled the room.

  "Uh, sorry, hold on." I flipped through the playlist and the storm was replaced by gentle waves lapping at a shore. "There. Now we won't feel as if we're on a ship that's about to go down."

  Gabriel laughed. Not a quiet chuckle, but an actual laugh. He looked around the parlor and shook his head. "So, if we can't go to lakeside cabin..."

  "It'll come to us."

  "You are..." He seemed to struggle for a word, and I could have teased him about that, but it was an honest struggle as panic lit his eyes.

  "You're something," he said at last, and I couldn't help sputtering a laugh. His eyes widened in horror. "That's not what I-- I mean, you're something else. Something good. Something..." He rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm not making sense. I'm sorry. I'm tired and..."

  "Let me help," I said. "The problem is, as smooth as we might be in everyday life, when it comes to each other, all that glibness gets zapped from our brains. We can't seem to get it right, and when we try, it's like when you lean in to kiss someone and end up stomping on their foot while elbowing them in the ribs."

  His lips curved, just a little. "Yes, exactly like that."

  "Right now, what I should do is pour the champagne. Then we'd get comfortable in front of the fire and make small talk, relaxing and moving past this awkward moment. Then--and only then--I'd tell you what I want to say. That's smooth. But if I attempt that? The phone will ring. Someone will pound on the door. I'll have a vision. And Lloergan will develop a terrible case of gas."

  The hound glowered from her spot by the fire.

  "Even if none of that happens, I'll screw it up," I said. "I won't find the right words. Or I'll get cold feet and change my mind. So forget smooth." I took a deep breath. "This is what it sounded like, t
hat night in the tunnel."

  Gabriel frowned, these clearly not being the words he expected.

  "The river lapping against that platform." I nodded toward my phone, playing the wave effect. "It sounded like that, but it echoed, too. Everything echoed. And I was cold. Colder than I've ever been. I couldn't stop shivering. My teeth wouldn't stop chattering. And you were warm. So amazingly warm, and all I wanted was to get closer to you. When I got closer, I realized that was just an excuse to cuddle up against you and then, yes, to kiss you."

  I looked up at him. "I might not have been fully conscious, and I might have been slipping into memories of Gwynn, but I knew exactly who I was kissing."

  I stood there, heart pounding. I should kiss him. That was the proper way to end my declaration. But I couldn't budge. And then I realized I shouldn't. I had made my move. The next step was his.

  Gabriel stood frozen to the spot, his eyes slightly wide, in that way I'd come to interpret as panic.

  I'd made a mistake. Somehow I'd misinterpreted.

  How the hell could I have misinterpreted?

  No, I wasn't falling back on that, would not blame myself. If he couldn't make this next move, then he was never going to make it. However he might feel, he was never going to be able to open himself up, accept the risk. Nothing in his life had prepared him to do that.

  I squeezed my eyes shut so he wouldn't see my disappointment. No, my devastation. Tears welled behind my lids as I struggled to think of what I could blurt before running past him and--

  His fingers touched my cheek and slowly moved down to my chin, tilting it up and...

  I remembered the kiss in the river. I may have told myself it had gotten a little blurry, but that was bullshit. Even if I'd been certain it was just my subconscious conjuring Gabriel for me, I'd clung to that memory, pulled it out and replayed it and polished it so I could not possibly forget, because, real or not, I didn't want to forget.

  Even when Gabriel admitted it had been real, I'd been afraid to trust my memory. The kiss may have happened, but not as I remembered.

  What I remembered was the kind of kiss I would read about in books and chuckle over, and think the author was making a mountain out of a molehill. It was a very nice molehill, to be sure, but the over-the-top description belonged farther along that path, when the fireworks really started.