I slumped. “But you’d still do it, wouldn’t you?” I asked. “If Dietrich told you to, you would.” A flash of intense emotion passed over her face, too quickly for me to identify before she’d composed herself. I hesitated, unsure of myself. What had that been? Anger? Grief? In any case, she didn’t answer, and I was no closer to escape or even to understanding what was happening to me. I felt perilously close to tears. “Why did you bring me here?” I asked pleadingly, though I had long since despaired of anyone answering that question. “What were you even doing in America?”
She was silent for long enough that I thought she wouldn’t answer. When she did, though, it was with another question. “Did Thomas tell you where we are going?”
“Yes…”
She sighed softly. “I would have spared you the knowledge. I did not want you frightened.” What a kind sentiment. I clenched my jaw. “The fae realms are in a point of transition,” said Isana after a moment. “We were seeking support for our cause from some we thought might be allies. The last of these… you knew her as Dr. Spear.”
I whipped my head around to face her directly. “What?”
She chuckled quietly at my consternation. “She is not human, though she often wears the form to gain access to what she needs to survive. You would be happier not knowing the details.”
I felt myself going a little green. There were only so many things you would want to ‘gain access to’ as a medical examiner. I decided that Isana was right; I didn’t want the details. But the fact that I had been unwittingly rubbing shoulders with the supernatural for months before Dietrich and Isana ever darkened the doorway to Spear’s office was extremely demoralizing.
“I knew she had to be some kind of demon,” I muttered under my breath.
Isana chuckled again. “That is, perhaps, an exaggeration… though you should know that it was at her recommendation that we took you.”
I couldn’t even muster up the energy to be surprised at this. “What did she say?” I asked bitterly. “I’m betting it wasn’t a commendation of my secretarial skills.”
“She told us a good deal about you, notably that no one would look for you if you vanished,” said Isana. “You are not in contact with your family, correct?”
I felt suddenly angry at the pity I heard in her voice. “That’s right,” I said, my tone waspish, although I kept my voice low. “New in town, no friends, cut off from family. You couldn’t have found a better victim if you’d tried.”
“There were other reasons,” said Isana quietly. I already knew I wasn’t going to get any elaboration on that, so I just clamped my jaw shut, staring straight ahead. After a moment Isana sighed. “Dietrich has suggested that I enthrall you again. He thinks you are likely to break when we enter into the fae realm.”
“So do it,” I said bitterly. “It’s not like I can stop you.” Unless I wanted to run around with my ears covered every second I was within earshot of her.
“I am asking if you wish me to do so.”
That surprised me. “What?”
Isana shifted, though she was still looking ahead rather than directly at me. “If I enthrall you, you will walk through the forgotten world as if in a dream. Should disaster strike, you will accept it, placid and uncaring. Dietrich would call this a kindness, since we have torn you from your own world. Enthralled, no matter what we encountered, you would feel no fear.”
I sat very still. In the moonlight, it was difficult to gauge her expression for sincerity. “I don’t want you to… enthrall me again,” I said, testing.
Isana nodded. “Very well,” she said. She glanced toward the house. “You should return to bed. You will need your rest.”
“Just like that?” I asked, still suspicious.
“Unless Dietrich orders otherwise. You are not the sort of person whose will I enjoy forcing, whatever you may now think of me.” She stood. “Go rest, Samantha. Tomorrow we travel paths that few mortals dream of, let alone see with waking eyes.”
Chapter Five
By some miracle, I did manage to get to sleep for a couple of hours. I hadn’t given up on the thought of escape, but managing it overnight was clearly not going to happen, so I convinced myself that the best thing I could do was rest, at least for a little while, so as to be alert enough to take an opportunity to run if it presented itself. In any case, I awoke the next morning to Isana shaking my shoulder.
I jolted upright, alarmed and disoriented. Then I saw Isana, and all my memories from the day previous crashed to the forefront of my mind. I groaned, pressing my palms against my eyes. I think part of me had still been holding onto a scrap of hope that this had all been a stress-induced hallucination.
“Here,” said Isana, dropping a neatly folded pile of clothes on the bed beside me. “These should fit you. I apologize for not considering your clothing earlier.”
I wanted to refuse on principle, but the fact was that after wearing my work clothes for two days straight (and sleeping in them), I was almost desperate to change. Added to that was the fact that they’d acquired several small tears from my misadventure falling out of the tree, so as soon as Isana left, I stepped into the closet-sized adjoining bathroom, washed up quickly, and got dressed. Somewhere, Isana had acquired a simple cotton blouse and a pair of jeans, as well as a pair of old running shoes. These were a bit tight, but I figured they’d give me better traction than my work shoes if I tried to bolt again, so I laced them up. I stood, catching my own eye in the mirror. I looked drawn and exhausted, and even the freckles smattered over the bridge of my nose seemed paler than usual. I tied my dark brown hair back into a tight braid, still looking at the mirror, but without really seeing myself. My mind was back on the most pertinent issue at hand—planning my escape.
I cautiously descended into the kitchen without seeing anyone else. The house was quiet, but several lights were on. I wondered if I could slip away right then, but I stopped dead in my tracks. Laid out on the table was an array of eight jagged knives, the blades of which looked like they were carved from bone.
I felt an unpleasant sensation in the pit of my stomach. Before I could decide how to react, however, Thomas walked in.
“Good morning—oh. That’s not what it looks like,” he said, frowning slightly.
“What is it, then?” I demanded, turning to face him. “What are they for? And what kind of bone is that?”
He shrugged. “Deer, probably. And they’re just for self-defense. We can’t use the normal metal kind because of the iron content. It counteracts magic, so it won’t hold spells like these will, which is a serious disadvantage. Even carrying a small amount of iron can make spellcasting difficult.” He looked at me curiously. “What did you do to your hands?”
“Tripped,” I said shortly.
“Outside? But you didn’t try to leave, did you?” he asked, looking concerned, then shook his head. “No, you would have triggered Mitchell’s wards…”
“I was enjoying the stars,” I muttered, borrowing Isana’s line. I was beginning to feel very annoyed at all things magical, though I was surprised that Isana had not mentioned my escape attempt the night previous. Thomas had said that she was unpredictable, though… I shouldn’t take it as any sort of positive sign that she hadn’t tattled on me. I looked back at the bone-knives, Thomas’ comment about self-defense sinking in. Descriptions of several unpleasant creatures that I’d read about the night before bubbled to the surface of my mind. I swallowed. “Are we…” I glanced over at him. “Are we likely to need them?”
He shifted, uncomfortable. “Look… I know this is frightening when you don’t know what to expect, but we’ll be able to keep you safe.”
“So that’s a yes,” I muttered. I had to get away from these people, preferably before we went haring off into an alternate dimension.
“Actually, probably not,” said Thomas. “Knives are sort of a last resort. Mitchell and I are both trained with them, but if either of us have to use them, it’s because something has go
tten close enough that we don’t have time for spellcasting, and we’re not careless enough to let that happen. Even if it does, though, I hear Isana is very handy with blades, and Dietrich probably is as well, though realistically, he doesn’t need them to defend himself. Like I said, we’ll be able to keep you safe.”
Was I really supposed to just accept that? I took a breath. It didn’t matter. I needed to focus on getting enough information to make a plan. “All right. How does this work, exactly?” I asked, rubbing a hand against my shoulder. “How do we get… there?”
“To the Unseelie Court?” I nodded, a part of me still astounded I was actually having this conversation. Once I got home, I was never going to complain about my life again. “We need to travel to what’s called a worldline. It’s a place where the different worlds border each other. Sort of a rift, I guess you could call it. In any case, once we cross over, we’ll be in what’s called Alfheim. It’s a general term for the fae realm. We’ll travel by foot across it until we reach a place where we can cross one world further, into Aerenia’s territory.”
“Okay…” I didn’t really follow the whole world-hopping thing, but he’d said ‘travel’ to the so-called worldline, so it was more than an across-the-street sort of jaunt to get even that far. If we had to drive any significant distance, maybe I’d still have a chance to run. But I didn’t know how to get help without Isana brainwashing anyone I spoke to…
“You’ll be fine,” said Thomas, misjudging the source of the worry that was clearly showing on my face. “Mitchell and I are good at what we do, and of course there’s Isana… and Dietrich.”
“What exactly is it that Dietrich does?” I asked. Another gap in my plans: being able to account fully for him. All I really knew was that I didn’t want to be anywhere near him.
Thomas gave me a funny look. “If he hasn’t told you, I probably shouldn’t either.”
Ugh. “Please?” I asked, sounding pathetic.
“Sorry.” He nodded towards the fridge. “You can get something to eat if you like.”
“Quickly, though,” said Mitchell, coming in behind Thomas. “We are leaving shortly.”
“For the… worldline?” I asked hesitantly.
“Correct,” said Mitchell, though he gave Thomas a look, probably for telling me too much again. He turned back to me. “What did you learn last night?”
I froze, thinking for a second that he was referring with my brush with Isana, but then I remembered my impromptu lessons on mythological creatures. “Umm… fae are bad news and I should stay far away from them?”
“Sounds about right,” said Thomas with a quick grin, but Mitchell said, “Unfortunately we do not always have the luxury of keeping our distance. Thomas, tell her the general rules of dealing with fae.”
“Don’t eat any fae food, and be polite to a fault,” said Thomas, with the longsuffering air of someone who’s had to recite something a few thousand times. “Be extremely cautious about accepting gifts or exchanges. If forced to bargain, be specific with the terms.”
“Repeat that back,” said Mitchell to me.
Seriously? Being kidnapped wasn’t bad enough, now I had to be subjected to pop quizzes? Still, my policy of outward compliance didn’t allow for attitude, so I dutifully repeated Thomas’s recitation.
“Good,” said Mitchell. “Different fae have specific abilities, weaknesses and characteristics, which we’ll discuss in more detail on the drive to the worldline.” I groaned internally. It sounded as if I was not going to be left to plot my escape in peace while we drove. “But those guidelines apply to nearly all of them. Remember them.”
“You really should avoid bargaining with any fae unless you’re in a life-or-death situation,” Thomas added. He suddenly sounded very serious. “Fae are physically incapable of lying, but that doesn’t mean that you can take what they say at face value. They’re experts at twisting meanings and exploiting loopholes.”
At this moment, Isana entered the kitchen. “We are ready,” she said to Mitchell. “Are you prepared to go?”
Mitchell nodded, turning to gather up the knives on the table. I stifled a surge of panic. “We’re going?” I asked, my voice a little shrill. “Like, now?”
Isana nodded. “Now.”
Mitchell and Thomas flanked me to the car, which was compact and black. Isana tugged her sleeve over her hand before opening the car door, motioning for me to get in. I hesitantly obeyed, taking the middle seat. I was shortly thereafter joined by Thomas on one side and Isana on the other. A few seconds later Dietrich appeared from the far side of the house, taking the front passenger seat, while Mitchell settled into the driver’s seat.
“A moment,” Dietrich said to Mitchell, who was preparing to place the key in the ignition. He turned to face me.
“Are you well?” he asked. I was momentarily taken aback—he’d made a point of ignoring my well-being up to then—but then I realized there was no trace of concern in his gaze.
“I’m not panicking or thinking of running off, if that’s what you’re wondering,” I lied, my voice almost calm. “I don’t need to be enthralled.”
He frowned. “That is not your decision to make, whatever you may have discussed with Isana last night.” Oh. She had told someone about my truncated outing, or at least about the associated conversation. “We are going, uninvited, to the fae realm, and not even the area ruled by the fae folk of my homeland. We will be unprotected and exposed. You will see things that make your blood run cold, things that would make seasoned warriors weep. I cannot have you endangering us if you react poorly to these things.”
“I will enthrall her if she becomes a problem,” said Isana softly. “There is no need to frighten her.”
“She should be frightened,” he corrected her sharply. “To be otherwise would be worse than foolish. Remember your place in all this, Isana.” Isana glowered but didn’t make any retort. Dietrich turned back to me. I found myself pressing back against the seat, subconsciously trying to put as much distance between me and him as possible. He had a way of putting me on edge with very little effort, it seemed. “You have one chance,” he said, after watching me for several agonizing seconds. “Do not make me regret granting it.” He nodded to Mitchell, who started the car. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to calm myself. We were off.
“Banshee.”
I almost groaned. “Appearance may vary, but generally a pale woman with long hair. She portends death with a keening wail. Sometimes depicted with a silver comb in her hair.”
“Good. Fetch.”
It took me a second to remember that this was the name of another Irish fae creature, and not a command that you give a dog. “Oh—that’s the shapechanger, isn’t it? The one that duplicates people’s appearances?”
“They do far more than that,” said Mitchell. “They are cunning, intelligent creatures that form a bond with their victim, stealing appearance, memories, and sometimes even abilities. They are nearly impossible to detect.”
“Those things are awful,” Thomas said, with an involuntary shudder. “Even some fae fear the older, more powerful ones. Remember the one we had to hunt down in Rothbury?” he asked Mitchell.
“Yes. Young, and careless, which is the only reason we were successful in stopping it without reinforcements.” He glanced back at me. “Fetches are among the many reasons we are so cautious with disbursing information in situations like this, even among those we trust,” he said. Meaning, why even Thomas hadn’t been told why they were backing Dietrich in this contest. “Their ability to steal memories makes them excellent spies and informants.” He started to add something, but stopped when Dietrich spoke tersely.
“She lacks the ability to identify a fetch even if she did encounter one. Kindly restrict your instruction to fae we are likely to meet on this journey, Herr Mitchell. Time is short.”
Mitchell pressed his lips together, and I restrained a groan. His “instruction” had been going on for close to three hours by that po
int, and my brain was protesting the influx of information. He would either lecture or have me read for about ten minutes, then come up with new questions or leap back to repeat ones that I had answered poorly, stressing how important it was for me to recognize what I was dealing with so as not to make any stupid (and probably fatal) mistakes. I might have appreciated the sentiment if I’d joined this group willingly, but as it was, I was just annoyed at the interruptions to my escape planning. Not that I was getting very far with that. In terms of inventing a plan with half a chance of success, I had come up with exactly nothing.
“Very well,” said Mitchell. He glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “He is correct; most fetches take great care to avoid exposure, so even if you encountered one in the Court, you likely would not know it. And the risk of travelers encountering one in Alfheim is small. There are other things that pose a more likely threat there. Read the sections on shellycoats and gwyllion.”
“How do you spell that last one?” I asked, a little surly. About an hour earlier I had combed through about six pages looking for ‘banshee’ before Mitchell had remembered to tell me that the book used traditional spelling, so the word was rendered ‘beansidhe’ in the section heading. Because that was a totally logical way to spell it. “Irish phonetics and all…”
“That one’s Welsh, actually,” said Thomas, forestalling Mitchell, and probably saving me a lecture on how one can distinguish between the various orthographies of the languages of the British Isles. He seemed to realize I needed a break, because he said, “Those are both creatures known to mislead travelers. Basically, you need to know that a lot of things will try to lure you away from the group. You’ll be fine if you don’t let them fool you.”
“And if she does, she’ll be drowned, or eaten, or both,” said Mitchell sharply. “You must learn this.” This last bit was directed at me.
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