The Forgotten

by Bishop O'Connell

  But then why was she overwhelmed with dread?

  She set the box before her, turned the wheels of the lock until it read 3143, and pressed the release.

  The lid popped free.

  Wraith drew in a breath, steeled her heart, and opened the lid.

  “Well, I’ll be buggered,” Con said.

  Tears poured down Wraith’s cheeks, not all sad and not all happy.

  Inside the box sat an eagle feather, the quill end wrapped with threads of different colors. It was like finding a long-­lost favorite childhood toy. Wraith picked up Shadow’s feather and the power of the fetish washed over her. She could feel Shadow’s very essence in that moment and knew, without a doubt, her friend was real. She kissed the feather then pressed it to her cheek. After a long moment, she looked back into the box. There was a multitool with so many tools built in that it could give the best Swiss Army Knife an inferiority complex. As Wraith ran her fingers over it, she felt Fritz’s magic soaked into it and saw it in Fritz’s small hands, working deftly on some device or another. Wraith picked it up and set it reverently next to the feather. All that remained in the box was a pendant on a black cord. Wraith picked up SK’s necklace by the thong. The pendent itself was a worn silvery metal, pewter she thought, but wasn’t sure. The engraving was worn, and she could see SK worrying it between his fingers before dropping it back under his shirt. On one side was a line of text she couldn’t read, surrounded by more text in a circle. On the opposing side was an intricate design; four triangles overlapping into a star. It was circled with still more script. Wraith could feel the protective powers of the symbol. Even though she couldn’t read any of the text, it didn’t matter. She knew who it belonged to and as she ran her fingers over the smooth metal, she felt SK’s residual emotional impression.

  She swallowed and closed her eyes, letting a few more tears escape. Yes, she knew for sure all her friends were real, but she also knew they never went anywhere without these prized possessions.

  Her legs had begun to fall asleep when she finally blinked, but she still kept staring at the things in front of her, the most treasured belongings of her friends, and the coins that were supposed to make sure they could always find each other. After a long moment, she kissed the pendant, slipped it over her head, and tucked it beneath her shirt. Next, she kissed the multitool and stuck it in the cargo pocket of her jeans. Lastly, she picked up the feather and more tears came as she kissed it. She was about to put it in her bag, but she hesitated. She didn’t want to break or crush it.

  “I think I can tie it into your hair,” Sprout said. “If you want.”

  Wraith turned at the beaming girl, blue eyes almost aglow. Despite all that weighed on Wraith, she couldn’t help but smile back. “That would be nice,” she said, then kissed the girl’s cheek. “Thank you.”

  “You sit here,” Sprout said from the loveseat.

  Wraith joined her, and after a few minutes, Sprout asked for the feather, which Wraith surrendered reluctantly. She managed to resist telling the girl to be careful.

  “I’m, uh,” Con started. “Hell, I owe you an apology, don’t I?”

  “No, you don’t,” Wraith said. “I probably am half crazy, but I think I have a firm grip on the half that isn’t.”

  “Well, I’m sorry all the same,” Con said, finally looking up at her, then around the room. “For this whole giant ball of shite.”

  It was like someone opened a window and all the tension just flowed out.

  “So, what do we do now?” Geek asked.

  “You’re asking the wrong person,” Ovation said, looking at Wraith.

  Wraith shrugged. “I’m still not sure of a lot of things, but at least I know my friends are real.” She closed her eyes. “Or they were. I’m going to find out what happened to them, and that means I need to figure out what happened to me.”

  “It’s done,” Sprout said.

  “Thank you,” Wraith said, then wrapped her arm around the little girl, who snuggled close. Toto, unhappy at being left out, came over and dropped his head on her lap.

  There was a long moment of silence as everyone traded glances.

  “The snatchers, they did this to me,” Wraith said. “I know they did, somehow.”

  “Why?” Sprout asked.

  “They’re psychotic boogeymen?” Con asked.

  Wraith’s soft chuckle was weary. “They want me for something. Before you ask, I don’t know what, not yet anyway.” She took a deep breath and braced herself for the impact of what she was about to say. “So I’m going to give them what they want. Maybe it’ll stop the snatchings, and the . . .” She couldn’t say the word. Saying it would make her think about what might have happened to her friends, and she couldn’t do that.

  The boys traded glances.

  Sprout furrowed her brow. “It’s not your fault.”

  Wraith managed a smile. “Thank you, Sprout, but Con was right.”

  “Again?” Ovation asked.

  “I was?”

  “Mark the calendar,” Geek said to Ovation, who chuckled but didn’t look away from Wraith.

  She nodded. “I’m done running, of being hunted. They had me once and I got away. I know lots of others didn’t, maybe all of the others didn’t. I don’t know exactly what they want, but I’m going to stop them, or die trying. I can’t let this continue while I hide in the shadows.”

  “That’s brilliant!” Con said with a fierce smile. “I take back nearly everything I said about you. You’re still a nutter, mind, but you’re all right.”

  “Thanks,” Wraith said. “But I’m doing this alone—­”

  “Look, I’m not so much concerned for myself,” Ovation said and looked at everyone, but his gaze lingered on Wraith. “I just don’t want anything to happen to the rest of you.”

  “No,” Wraith said, shaking her head. “You don’t under—­”

  “Well that’s not your call, mate,” Con said. “I for one am plenty tired of playing the hare in this game of coursing. I say we give a little back. If I go down, I’m taking some of those buggers and a bleeding city block with me.”

  “No!” Wraith shouted and everyone turned to her. “Not you! Me!”

  “Sure,” Con said. “We’ll just sit here then, shall we? Have a nice cuppa?”

  “Well, yes,” Wraith said. “Whatever a cuppa is.”

  “Doesn’t this seem convenient?” Geek asked. “I mean, you’ve been struggling for however long, and now all of a sudden, poof?”

  Wraith stared at Geek.

  “That didn’t come out right,” he said. “But what if this is part of their plan? What if this is their way of getting you to come back on your own?”

  “So we’re going to second-­guess decisions we haven’t made yet?” Con asked.

  “You’re not listening to me,” Wraith said. “None of this matters. I’m doing it alone!”

  Ovation looked her in the eye. “No, you’re not.”

  Wraith fretted her lower lip.

  “Too right,” Con said.

  Sprout squeezed Wraith’s hand. “Yeah, I’m with you too.”

  “So,” Geek said, “if there are answers in your head, how do we go about plumbing the depths of your mind? Don’t suppose anyone here is secretly a Vulcan who’s mastered the mind meld?”

  “I’ll figure it out,” Wraith said. Her conviction was starting to waver. She didn’t have time to stumble in the dark while ­people were dying, or worse.

  Ovation began pacing. “There’s got to be something we can do,” he said.

  “Oi, what about the wizard?” Con asked.

  Everyone traded glances.

  Ovation nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that. But it’s a good idea. That old charm seller at the market has all kinds of stuff, powerful too.”

  “Charms! You’re a genius!” Wra
ith turned, still smiling. “Information, like energy, can’t be destroyed. I just need the proper charm to find the information.”

  “I don’t imagine they sell that at the Freemont Market. Kind of a specialized thing, yeah?” Con asked.

  Wraith glanced at the workbench, to her goggles and the glove, and then back to Con. “Then I’ll find the pieces and make it myself.”

  Con chuckled and smiled. “Well then, guess we’re off to see the wizard.”

  There was a groan and several eyes rolled.

  “Market isn’t until tomorrow, Scarecrow,” Ovation said to Con. “That means we can all take a breath and rest.” He turned to Wraith. “Is it safe here?”

  “I thought lions were supposed to be brave,” Con said.

  Wraith shrugged. “Should be okay for tonight.”

  “Since I’m clearly the level-­headed Tin Man,” Geek said, “I’ll be the one to ask: Do we even know where we are? I mean, if we teleported, couldn’t we be in China or something?”

  Wraith shrugged again. “I’m not sure, but it doesn’t matter.”

  “Here it comes,” Con said, pinching the spot between his eyes.

  Wraith motioned to the door. “It’s a door.”

  Con nodded. “Right, not a door, but a door-­door.”

  Wraith nodded. “Exactly.”

  “Can you lock them?” Geek asked. “The doors, I mean.”

  After a moment of consideration, she leapt up, almost pulling Sprout off the couch, and rushed to the door. She ran her fingers along the doorframe.

  “Do you think that’s a yes?” Geek asked.

  “Not even gonna guess,” Con said, and started to lie down on the bed under which they’d found the penny. “I’m going to rest. I get the feeling we’ve got a bloody long day ahead of us.”

  Wraith didn’t hear anything else, she was focused on the formulations that circled the door—­the ones that made it a door-­door, not just a door. She didn’t see how she could lock just that one, but maybe . . . She looked back to the workbench and the gauntlet, then retrieved it. As anticipated, it fit her perfectly. She returned to the door and concentrated, pressing the palm of her gloved hand to the dented surface. The blue glass embedded in the glove glowed brighter. All around her, numbers and symbols appeared, more than she’d ever seen. The room was so full, it made Ovation and the others blurry. Her head started to throb as she figured the calculation, focused on keeping every number in its place. When the formula was together, she willed it into the door.

  “Bloody hell, would you look at her eyes!” someone said behind her.

  “Look at her tattoos!” someone else said. “They’re glowing too!”

  The voices were familiar, but all she could see was the doorway and all the potential doors that connected to it. Her head began to swim, then she felt the doors all lock as the power flooded out of her and she fell into darkness.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dante stopped his pacing across the dance floor. “What did you say?” He kept from dropping the phone.

  “They’re closed,” Faolan said, the disbelief in his voice palpable.

  “The Far Trails are closed?” Dante asked, hoping perhaps the third time would make it untrue. He should’ve known better.

  “That’s the only way I can describe it,” Faolan said.

  Dante swallowed and pushed down the growing knot in his stomach.

  “This has only happened once before when the Taleth—­”

  “I know,” Dante said. “I was there too.” He exhaled. From the beginning, he added to himself. His mind began to race. Seanán wouldn’t have come out of retirement without coming to the court first. There couldn’t be another Taleth-­Sidhe. Could there? The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall into place, and Dante didn’t like the picture.

  “I had Padraig try as well, just in case it was something to do with me. I’ll spare you his exact comments. Suffice it to say, he was mildly flustered.”

  Dante resumed pacing and chanced a glance at Siobhan. The Fian was listening, taking small sips from her bottle of beer. She didn’t say anything, but she obviously understood.

  “Okay, what are our contingencies?” Dante said.

  Faolan laughed. “Contingences? For this? None of us thought it would ever come up again.” There was a moment of silence. “Our only options are mortal modes of travel.”

  “It’s too far to drive, and too risky,” Dante said.

  “We have access to private planes, but it isn’t like we have a troop transport on standby.”

  Dante made a mental note to address that problem at some point in the future.

  “And it’s not like we’ll be discreet,” Faolan said. “We’re talking a few dozen armed and armored wardens, and all their gear. Even if we crated the stuff, we’re talking a lot of bodies and equipment. That means a big aircraft. It’s going to take time to arrange it all so we don’t run into issues with the mortal authorities.”

  “This is a bit beyond just a glamour.”

  “A bit.”

  “How long?” Dante asked.

  Faolan paused. “Right now, I’d say a ­couple of days.”

  Dante winced. Just because he was expecting that answer didn’t make it any easier. “You know I have to ask if you can shave that down.”

  “I’ll have a better idea once I get on it, but I’d be amazed if I can be there in less than twenty-­four hours. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize,” Dante said. “I’m sure anyone else would take a week to pull it off. Do what you can, but keep in mind that minutes matter.”

  “Understood.”

  Dante ended the call, put his phone in his pocket, and walked to the nearest wall. Once there, he counted to ten in a slow whisper. Then he put his right fist through the brick and let fly a curse that would’ve made the Dusk Court king himself raise his eyebrows.

  “Well, that’s colorful,” Elaine said as she began walking across the club.

  Dante withdrew his hand from the wall and brushed off the brick dust. “Had a bit of an off-­putting phone call.”

  Elaine fretted her lower lip. “I doubt this will help your mood, but I’m mystified as to what it means.”

  “I need a drink,” he said and walked to the bar. “What about you?”

  “Vodka?” Elaine asked.

  “How do you take it?” Dante asked as he began mixing himself a martini.

  “The bottle and a straw would be good,” Elaine said as she approached the bar.

  She and Siobhan exchanged nods.

  “Don’t like barstools?” Elaine asked.

  “I prefer to keep me back to the wall,” Siobhan said.

  “I’ve always wondered,” Elaine said, “are you a Fian as well, or a Fianette?”

  Siobhan smiled and slid her shotgun around so Elaine could see it. “We could discuss it if you like.” Siobhan winked.

  Elaine chuckled softly.

  Dante came around the bar and set a fresh bottle of beer next to Siobhan, a glass with ice, a wedge of lemon, and vodka in front of Elaine. Then he took a large swallow from his martini glass before sitting at a nearby table.

  “Sláinte,”Siobhan said, lifting the offered beer in a salute after joining Dante at the table.

  “What’ve you found?” Dante asked Elaine as she sat.

  “It’s strange,” Elaine said and drew a glass tube with a cork stopper from an inside pocket.

  “That’s about right for the night, aye?” Siobhan asked.

  Elaine looked at Dante from under a furrowed brow.

  “I’ll explain in a minute,” he said. “I’d say your news isn’t going to be the strangest thing I’ve heard today, but I’m afraid to make that bet.”

  Elaine handed Dante the glass tube.

  He examined it, holding it s
o Siobhan could see it when she leaned close. Inside was a long, straight, black hair.

  “A hair?” Siobhan asked, looking from one elf to the other.

  “Look close,” Elaine said.

  Dante’s eyes went wide. “It’s conjured.”

  “What?” Siobhan asked.

  Elaine nodded. “My source says it’s from a changeling girl.”

  “Who the bloody hell conjures a changeling?” Siobhan asked.

  Elaine shrugged.

  “How old is this?” Dante asked.

  “Closing in on twenty-­four hours,” Elaine said.

  “Like hell,” Siobhan said. “No bloody wizard can summon up that kind of power. And this ain’t what was conjured, it’s just a piece of it. Damn thing should’ve gone to nothing in minutes after it came loose.”

  Elaine nodded. “I agree with you completely.” She motioned to the hair. “And yet.”

  Dante set the tube down, then looked at Elaine. “You’re sure about its age?”

  She nodded. “Give or take a ­couple hours, but I got it from a reliable source who also happened to be a witness.”

  “How reliable?” Dante asked.

  “Witness to what?” Siobhan asked.

  “Very reliable. He’s a rat that was in the rafters when the slinger and fifties were snatched last night,” Elaine said to Dante, then turned to Siobhan. “The rat was a witness to the conjuring, but not like one I’ve ever heard of before.”

  Dante took another drink, finishing the martini, then he let out a long breath. “Let me have it.”

  “The rat said the three kids, two changelings and a slinger, came in just before nightfall,” Elaine said. “He said they’ve been staying there for a few days, and they were always nice to him. A few hours before dawn, the rat said the temperature in the room dropped significantly and he felt more afraid than he could remember. The kids must’ve felt it too because they woke up and began whispering and crying.”