Taking Suri’s arm, Maggie rose to her feet. She was shorter, too. Shrunken a couple of inches. Suri had never seen her like this before. “Are you ok?” she asked, hesitantly.
“I’ll be fine,” said Maggie, waving aside Suri’s concern. A swing of her mace and the corpse floated away from the altar, down to her side. “I’ll bury it next to the others, that Lee sent over.” She put a small hand on Suri’s forearm. It was so light, as if her bones were hollow like a bird’s. “Be careful,” she whispered. “A malevolent force unlike any I’ve felt tried to stop the ghost from answering. And it nearly won.”
“I’m not alone,” Suri replied. “The Lady of Arrows stands with me.”
Or so I hope, she added, to herself. It still remained to be seen exactly where the fae’s loyalties held. She wasn’t about to trust Vestrix completely, just because she was Raja’s master. If anything, the fact made her even more cautious.
“Oh?” Maggie’s eyes lit up briefly. She chuckled, sounding much older than her twenty-four years. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.”
A shiver ran up Suri’s spine. “How do you know Vestrix?” she asked, as Maggie began shuffling away, out of the main cathedral, toward a door leading to a private room off to the side.
“Vestrix? Never heard that name. Perhaps…” She shook her head. “It is not my place to say. I must rest. Take care, Suri Blackwater.”
Suri opened her mouth. Gaped, like a fish out of water. Frozen in shock.
Maggie opened the door and exited the cathedral proper, together with the corpse.
Blackwater. What had she meant by that?
Feeling more uncertain than ever, Suri exited the cathedral. She had to talk to Logan, then get back to Faerie.
25
The sun was peeking over the bay by the time Suri opened the door to her apartment, closed, locked it, kicked off her boots and stumbled over to the living room couch.
Maybe I was wrong about the dog, she thought, as she grabbed the soft, wool blanket that Amber had left on the couch, pulled it over her whole body, head included, and curled up into a ball of aching tiredness. She didn’t even bother taking off her clothes. Amber would end up walking it all the time, while I’m away. I’ll have to wait…settle down. A yawn interrupted her train of thought. And then she was dead asleep, this time for ten hours.
It was only when Amber came back to the apartment, after a day of shopping, and loudly closed the door (not knowing Suri was asleep on the couch), that Suri blinked open her blurry eyes. It was one of those sleeps that, on first awaking, she didn’t know where the heck she was, what time it was, or what day it was. A totally ‘huh?’ moment. The groggy memory of Raja’s tanned abs and long legs—the feeling of his erection pressed against her crotch—was all that remained of Suri’s dream.
“Noo,” she murmured, and huddled back under the blanket. Couldn’t she stay in that world forever?
“Oh, sorry!” Amber whispered. She turned out the lights that she had just turned on.
“S’ok,” Suri muttered. She peered at Amber with puffy eyes. Hauled herself off the couch, feeling a bad kink in her neck. “Need a shower anyways.” Suri slumped off to the bathroom, plucking off her clothes and leaving them on the ground with each step.
“What happened last night!” Amber called, through the door to the bathroom. “You missed Chinese again!”
The days of Netflix and Chinese food with Amber seemed to Suri like a lifetime ago. A comfort she had taken for granted, now gone, that she would have to work to get back. The meeting with the Androsian was only a couple hours away. And Suri wasn’t even sure where she was supposed to go. Or if the Androsian contact would be there. If they were involved in the councillor’s disappearance. It was likely that they would be a no-show.
Hot water ran down Suri’s long hair and muscled body. It stung, mixed with soap, over her scrapes and bruises. It felt darn good, the dirt of the past few days finally coming off. Down the drain. Forgotten. It was time for Suri to start fresh.
“Is this blood?!” Amber’s urgent voice came from the hallway outside. Evidently, she had been picking up Suri’s clothes and come across her bloodied shirt and jacket.
“Not mine!” Suri yelled back, over the sound of the running water. It was mostly true. No use setting Amber into a panic.
Forty, blissful minutes later, Suri stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy white bath towel. “Amber?” she called. Her roommate had gone quiet. She wasn't in the kitchen, or the living room.
The door to the closet-sized office was closed. Light crept out from under the door, just as the setting sun colored the sky orange outside. Hope gave a jump to Suri’s heart. “You in there, Amber?”
“Roger, roger,” came a distracted reply. “Locked onto a rift. She’s popping up soon.”
Not too soon. Suri needed time to get to the meeting place, see what was up with that, before taking a rift back to Faerie. Amber, angel that she was, had washed Suri’s clothes, dried and folded them, set them on her bed. Suri touched the jade amulet hanging from around her neck, put on the fresh clothes and leather jacket.
It took ten minutes to cook a batch of eggs, organic sausages, pour orange juice, toast and jam, pour a fresh pot of coffee. After scarfing down enough for two people, Suri filled a plate with a still considerable amount of breakfast food and (even though it was nighttime) put it on a tray and knocked on the office door. “Food.” The magic word. Amber opened the door instantly with one hand, her gaze still fixed on the pool of water sitting in the large stone bowl in front of her. The table beneath was inscribed in runes and pentagrams. Five yellow tallow candles were set around the bowl in a square. There was a shorter, smaller table next to the one with the bowl on it. It was empty but for a mostly empty cup of water. Suri set the tray of food down there, along with a cup of juice. She scooped up the empty cup.
“Get ready,” Amber said. Her eyes were glazed over. She was deep into her seer’s trance. Reading the lay lines. Searching the ocean of magic. Keeping her third eye open for the earliest sign of an opening rift. “I’ll message you when it comes.”
“I’ll be ready,” Suri replied.
“Tell Raja, Amber says ‘Hi gorgeous,” Amber added, a small smile playing on her lips.
Suri groaned. “Yeah, I’ll do that,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. She softly closed the office door, pulled on her boots, checked to make sure Blackbird’s key was in her pocket, and went down to the garage.
Brexly Hall. That was what Weathers had written in his diary. At the time, it had meant nothing to Suri. Unfortunately, she’d been too busy to have a eureka moment. She had no idea where to go, and the meeting was two hours away.
Sighing, she fished her cell phone out of her jacket pocket—saw eleven missed calls. “The heck,” she murmured. No one called her on her cell. Mages hated electronics. It was like cats and water.
All the numbers were the same ’unknown.’ Must be Logan, Suri decided. She’s forgotten to call him the night before. She was just thankful he hadn’t come knocking on her door and interrupted her much-needed sleep. After a moment of indecision, she hit the ‘call back’ button. She had wanted to keep the meeting a secret from Logan and the other enforcers, but she didn’t have that luxury anymore. Amber was busy doing her seer stuff, and Suri didn’t know where to go. If anyone knew about unsavory meeting places in San Francisco, it would be Logan.
He picked up on the second ring. “Yea.”
So people actually answer their phones like that. It’s not just the movies.
“It’s Suri,” she said.
“I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”
“I was sleeping. Look, I thought of something from last night. There was something in the diary. Do you know where Brexly Hall is?”
“Yea, sure. What about it?”
Now the moment Suri had wanted to avoid. “I think Weathers had planned to meet someone there tonight. I want to go and check it out
.”
“Hold on. What happened with the dead guy? Maggie wouldn’t talk to me.”
Suri told Logan what the ghost had said.
“Faerie,” Logan mused. A door opened and closed in the background. He was walking around. “That’s outside the enforcer’s jurisdiction.”
Suri didn’t answer, and Logan continued. “Meet me at Pier 39. I’ll show you Brexly Hall.”
“Got it.”
The call ended. Something about it left a bad taste in Suri’s mouth. Her instincts told her it had been a bad move to give everything away so easily. Keeping information for yourself is, after all, a solid way to ensure one’s safety. Baddies won’t kill you if they think you have the information they want.
Shaking her head, Suri revved up Blackbird. Her helmet was still lost, somewhere in Lodum. Her red hair, clean and fresh from the shower, flew all over the place as she made her way, dipping and weaving through traffic, to Pier 39.
Logan was already there, waiting leaned against the side of an old beater car with a cigarette hanging from his lips. His eyes were bloodshot red, testament to a long night spent awake.
“Did you sleep at all?” Suri asked, pulled up next to him. Ungifted pedestrians, many of them fanny pack wearing tourists, milled past on the sidewalk. Seagulls circled in the air above, screeching to each other, sometimes landing to pick at a piece of stray food left on the ground.
“Sleep is for the weak,” Logan replied. His forehead was wrinkled, brow furrowed in either anger or concentration.
“Arcade Fire fan, huh.”
“Who isn’t. How much time do we have?”
Suri checked her phone. “Thirty minutes.” The sun was low in the sky. “What were you doing? Anything else happen at Weathers’ place last night?”
Logan shook his head. “Some shit’s going down at the Academy. I don’t even know what. It’s bad. Had to fight with the Chief for him to let me come here.”
Suri raised her eyebrows in surprise. That was random. Or maybe not. “Do you think it’s connected to…all this?”
“I dunno,” said Logan, with a sigh. “I guess we’ll find out.”
“You’d be sleeping right now if I hadn’t called,” Suri stated.
“That’s about right.” Logan laughed. “Don’t worry about it. You get used to it when you’re an enforcer. Besides,” he added. “Badger, remember?”
Suri was skeptical that being a badger shifter helped with staying awake, but she grinned back. For all the shit that was going on, Logan was in a pretty good mood.
A local radio station was having an event in the pier district. A crowd of teens was cheering to crappy pop music, waving their hands high in the air as a DJ pressed ‘play’ on his MacBook. Flags covered in in the logos of the sponsors who paid for the event fluttered in the breeze.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Logan said. His foul mouth wasn’t affected by lack of sleep, it seemed.
They made their way through the stream of ungifted, out of the crowded walkway. Logan led the way down one of the old, wooden docks. Two dudes dressed in cycling gear, standing next to their bikes and looking out over the water, were the only other people around.
“It’s not a building,” said Logan. He looked out over the water, absentmindedly rubbing his beard.
Suri closed her eyes, revelling in the feel of sun on her face. She took off her leather jacket and slung it over one shoulder. Underneath, she wore a white tank top. Her muscled arms, one of which bore a long white scar on the shoulder, were pale as snow. It had been too long since she had been outside during the day, and not riding her motorcycle. It was about to be night again. She may as well catch what little of the sun’s rays that she could.
Vitamin D deficiency is the leading cause of depression, she thought to herself. Maybe that’s why I’m grumpy all the time.
So lost was Suri in the seaside breeze, warmth of the sun, and cawing of seagulls that she almost forgot Logan had said anything at all. “What? Not a building?”
“Brexly Hall.” Logan looked at his watch. “It’s a boat. A barge, to be specific.”
“Boats can’t dock here,” Suri said.
Logan snorted. “Ungifted boats. This one’s glamoured. Hell, even I can’t see it. Open your third eye. It should be coming there,” he said, pointing in the distance. “Around the bend.”
Suri opened her third eye. The usual aurora borealis lit up the sky—more brilliant than anything an astronomer had ever seen. It is a sight reserved for mages, a sight everyone from the least to the most talented can share. A brilliant bleeding hue of green and pink-purple blue, dusted with a million twinkling stars, winding like a blowing scarf of silk through the open sky.
“Ah,” Suri sighed. She opened her mouth to comment on it, but saw Logan looking pointedly away. She closed her lips, but held them in a small, secret smile. Although he had never seen it himself, and would never be able to, Logan knew about the magical aurora. A thousand poems from a thousand poets have waxed poetic about its majesty. Logan knew what he was missing. There was no use in Suri rubbing it in. It was only too bad that she wasn’t sharing the experience with another mage.
It would be perfect for a date.
Doubly so if the person had never seen it before.
Can fae see it? Suri wondered.
A happy sigh escaped her lips. She rested an elbow on the thick wooden railing of the dock, propping her head up with one hand. Staring blissfully—
“Hey, are you listening? It could be here any minute.”
Suri shook herself from her daydream. She looked to where Logan had pointed.
Lo and behold, a giant barge, three stories high, was making its way over water. It looked like one of those old time steam boats that went up and down the Mississippi back in the 1800s. 1700s? A long time ago.
Brexly Hall came like a vision from a dream. It was close enough for Suri to see the silver oars sticking out from its hull. Enchanted or pulled by workers (or slaves?) below deck, they silently pulled on the water, bearing the barge forward at a leisurely pace. The oars had been polished to a shine. Catching the reflection of both the setting sun and the emerging moon, they glinted with splendour. It was surreal. A scene from an ancient past. Something befitting Egyptian royalty on the Nile five thousand years ago. Not in San Francisco, in the polluted harbour. With the gosh darn gulls wheeling above.
The barge existed within its own reality. None of the ungifted so much as looked its way—the most splendid piece of architecture Suri had ever seen passing them by without notice. Logan, too, gazed across the bay in no particular direction. Scanning the water and sky for what he knew to be there, but could not see. To miss its sight was more tragic than the aurora.
And the aurora. The magical ribbon of silk filled with stars. It shone down on the water around the barge. Its greenish light rippling, shimmering on the waves as the barge cut through the war. Stars reflected on the surface of the little waves in its wake, as if the barge was riding on the sky itself.
Some say the magical aurora is a giant rift. That it leads to a realm beyond and above both Earth and Faerie, where the old gods live.
Suri always took it as superstitious nonsense. That day, as it was turning into dusk, Suri believed the tales could be true. How could a sight so magnificent not be connected to something higher? Standing under it, out on the pier, with the silver-oared barge approaching, Suri was fully humbled.
And the barge had been designed in a such a way to make full use of the aurora’s effect.
Roman pillars both parts dark wood and gleaming ivory made up its sides, supporting a balcony enwrapping the entire perimeter on the second floor. As with the oars, the wood and ivory were clean and polished. No doubt treated with many spells and enchantments to keep them that way. They also caught the sun and moon and aurora, but in a way different than the water. Instead of giving off a reflection, the outside of the barge absorbed the myriad light. Held it, and glowed the bleeding hues back out on
to the deck. In this way, no other lights were needed. Neither torch nor light bulb was placed on its perimeter; it was all natural light, bathing it in radiance. And as it came closer still, nearly at the pier now, where Suri and a brooding Logan awaited, it occurred to Suri that the barge had been designed that way. She made out the pure glass windows, high on the third story. Noted how there was no other source of light, magical or conventional.
Does that mean it only goes out at this hour? Does the light of the aurora glow from within, even to those without the third sight? For that matter, can someone without the third sight break through the glamour barrier and see the barge once within?
Many thoughts careened through Suri’s mind. None more pressing than what Weathers’ had been meeting about in such a place, and how the barge had existed for so long with Suri’s knowing. Certainly there had been clients and Masters at the Academy whose august status credited them to know about the barge. And they had kept silent about it. And Logan? How had he found out?
What kind of place was Brexly Hall, anyways, that it was hidden from the majority of the city’s mages?
26
“It’s here,” said Suri. Her voice caught in her throat at the end of the sentence, awed by the barge’s splendour.
As if on cue, Logan’s cellphone rang.
“Yea. Yea. What?” He turned and took five steps back down the pier. “Does Sidney know about this? Well tell him. Yes, right now.”
He waited a moment, brow furrowed per usual, fingers well into his thick beard.
Not for the last time, Suri wanted to know what it felt like to have a beard. Or, at least to give Logan’s a good rub. Oh, god. Did I touch his beard at Club Noir?
“You’re the one who called me,” Logan said, exacerbated. “I’m coming. Yea, I know. Ok.” He hung up. “Gotta go,” he said, to Suri. His eyes briefly scanned the horizon, looking for the barge that he knew he could not see. He rubbed his wedding ring, seemed to realize that he was doing it and stopped, putting both hands in his jacket pockets.
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