The Doctor smiled at her reassuringly. ‘Let’s get started, shall we.’ She walked over to a console and pulled up the scanning software. ‘Scanning started, biological monitors running. If you could… do something?’
Something? Okay, something. Ceri raised her hand, cupping it, and closed her eyes. There was a spark and then a ball of glowing, blue energy filled her palm. She opened her eyes and looked down at her hand. The energy shifted and shimmered. It was rather beautiful really. ‘Something,’ she said. Grinning, she looked up at Cheryl.
The Doctor was standing there with her jaw hanging open. ‘I’ve never seen anything like this,’ she said.
Ceri frowned. ‘Boss, you’re scaring your research assistant,’ she said. Closing her hand, she dismissed the energy in it as easily as it had come.
‘Stay there,’ Cheryl said. ‘I’ll wheel this over to you. I’d like to do another run to confirm the results in a minute.’ She grabbed the trolley’s handle and pulled it over so that Ceri could see the screen. A couple of button presses and the imagery Cheryl had seen was replayed.
The scanners had supplied a basic outline of her body and the stool prior to her summoning the energy. She watched the outline raise its hand and then there was a flare of energy filling that hand. There was no reaction in the body, no stream along the spine, nothing. ‘Play it again,’ she said.
Cheryl tapped keys. ‘Watch the biometrics,’ she said. Ceri did as directed. Her heart rate and respiration remained constant through the recording, but there was a spike in neurological activity prior to the energy appearing which kept going until it vanished. Ceri noticed that the power, summoned apparently from nowhere, vanished back into the same place.
Cheryl pushed the trolley back again. ‘All right,’ she said, ‘again, but this time I’m going to run the scanners at twice the resolution. This is fascinating.’
Ceri giggled. It was fascinating, and she had never been the subject of an experiment before. ‘Lab rat number one reporting for duty,’ she said, saluting.
Rolling her eyes, Cheryl hit the record button. ‘When you’re ready…’
Once again, the ball of bluish energy flared into existence in her hand. She looked at it; raw power sitting in her palm, ready to do whatever she wished of it. ‘What’s the thaumometer reading?’ she asked.
‘You’re casually holding about five thaums,’ Cheryl said. She turned and looked around at Ceri, frowning. ‘What are you, girl?’ she asked quietly.
Kennington, October 9th
A small army of dusters skittered across the bookshelves of the study directed by a nut-brown fairy who was smaller than they were. Ceri watched them as they swirled around the books, getting into the little nooks and crannies as good little dusters should. She was sat there while Twill did the dusting, examining the processed data from the scans Cheryl had run on her the day before. Nothing she had managed to find showed anything different from the initial conclusions; somehow, Ceri was able to conjure raw thaumic energy from nothing.
‘Twill, mind if I ask you a question?’ she said.
‘Well,’ the fairy said, not looking around, ‘that obviously depends upon the question.’
‘Your magic doesn’t make you tired, does it?’
‘You mean the way human magicians tire from using spells? No, no it doesn’t. Fae magic is driven by a reservoir of energy held within our bodies.’ She flitted over to where Ceri was sitting at the desk. ‘True supernatural beings…’
‘True supernatural beings,’ Ceri interrupted, ‘exhibit the ability to generate thaumitons, using or emitting them as required by their metabolic processes. Fairies emit a constant field of T-Plus thaumitons, which tends to generate a feeling of well-being, even elation, in those around them.’
Tiny brown eyes narrowed at her. ‘If you know all the answers, Miss Know-It-All-Thaumatologist, why bother asking?’
‘Because I wanted to know what it feels like,’ Ceri said. Looking at Twill with her Sight, she could actually see the field of energy which surrounded her and the sparkle of stored energy which seemed to occupy the pit of her stomach, the Manipura node on her Tantric Median, if Ceri was judging it right.
Twill’s expression shifted to one of mild consternation. ‘What it feels like…’ she murmured. ‘What it feels like… I don’t know, what does breathing feel like?’
It was Ceri’s turn to look perplexed. ‘I don’t know, I just do it.’
‘Quite.’ She nodded emphatically. ‘Look, fae don’t learn spells like humans do. Well, fae can learn spells, and the ones who do can be very good at them, but some things just come to us naturally. We do them without thinking, like breathing.’
‘Your invisibility,’ Ceri suggested, ‘glamors, telekinesis…’
‘Flight,’ Twill added. ‘You don’t think these wings are practically capable of supporting my body in the air, do you?’
‘Honestly? I hadn’t thought about it, but now you mention it…’
Twill alighted on the desk and sat down, knotting her somewhat disproportionately long legs into a lotus posture. ‘What’s brought this on?’ she asked.
‘My course tutor got worried that I didn’t get tired from working magic,’ she said. ‘So Cheryl ran some tests on me yesterday. I don’t use the same metabolic process to generate thaumic energy as most mages do. I just… get it out of the air.’
‘That’s not how magic works, my girl,’ Twill said. Then she frowned. ‘Well, it hasn’t worked like that in… almost fifteen centuries. And that’s only if you believe a lot of old legends.’
‘Twill,’ Ceri said, ‘you’re being cryptic. I hate it when you go all Zen Master on me.’
‘Sorcerers, Ceri,’ Twill said, as if it should be obvious, ‘I’m talking about sorcerers. Merlin, Gwydion, your namesake, Ceridwen. Supposedly they could work fearfully powerful magic without the aid of demons, gods, or spirits. They understood how the universe worked, and their great knowledge gave them power. Of course, it’s a matter of legend. If they existed, no sorcerer lived past the Battle of Badon in five-fifteen.’
Ceri shrugged. ‘Merlin was supposed to be a half-demon,’ she said, ‘and I was always told that great magic in the past was either exaggerated or down to pacted wizards.’
‘My great-grandmother,’ Twill said, ‘or maybe my great-great-grandmother, told tales of Gwydion. She said he could bend the weather to his will, turn into any animal he wished, speak to the dead…’
‘None of that can’t be done by anyone with the right spells,’ Ceri replied. ‘Well, no one knows how to do animal transformations anymore, but…’
‘But he did it as though it were nothing,’ Twill said. ‘To him, it was a matter of knowing, and once you knew you could do anything. The world listened when he spoke.’ She shrugged tiny shoulders. ‘But the sorcerers have been dead a long time with no sign of them in all those years. Mind you,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘I never heard anyone tell where they came from in the first place.’
~~~
‘Hey, Carter bedded Suzie Shore?’ Ceri said, looking up at Lily across the kitchen table from her copy of The Wednesday Witch.
‘Huh? Oh, yeah,’ Lily replied, grinning. ‘She came to the Dragon last Saturday and got a bit sloshed. Carter said he’d take her home, but he didn’t mention who’s home.’ She giggled. ‘I think he’s taken a bit of a shine to your boss.’
‘Cheryl?’
‘Uh-huh. She came in on Wednesday and they left together. And you don’t see her in the gossip columns.’ This, it seemed, was the clinching factor as far as Lily was concerned.
‘Why does that make a difference?’ Ceri asked.
‘The ones he cares about never turn up in the newspapers,’ Lily replied. ‘There’s been a couple of women I’ve known about who have never been linked with him, but he’s seen more than once. And there’s you.’ Ceri blinked. Lily raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re telling me you haven’t noticed how he looks at you?’
‘Lil, this is Carter F
leming we’re talking about,’ Ceri said dryly. ‘Is there a girl on the planet he doesn’t look at like that?’
‘Just you,’ Lily said. ‘You’re not used to seeing him.’
‘Have you been taking cryptic lessons from Twill?’
Lily giggled. ‘Carter has the look he gives the women he’s going to sleep with and dump, the one he gives the girls who know they’re both in it for the sex, like Jasmine. And then there’s the other ones. You, me, and Cheryl and the few others like her.’
Ceri looked down at her magazine again. ‘Is he any good?’ she asked as casually as she could. She could feel Lily’s smirk.
‘I won’t say he’s the best sex I’ve ever had,’ Lily said. ‘Actually, no, he might be.’ She gave a little, over-dramatic sigh. ‘Awesome foreplay, really takes his time making sure you get what you want, fantastic staying power, recovers really quickly…’
Ceri raised her eyes to look at Lily. ‘Do I have to get the riding crop out?’
‘Only if you want to,’ Lily said, giggling. ‘I haven’t had the slightest urge for days,’ she added and frowned a little. ‘I’m… content.’ She perked up again almost immediately. ‘I don’t think you’re going to get to find out how good Carter is in the sack, to be honest. The way he looks at you, it’s like… desire and regret. I think he wants to, but he won’t.’
‘Weird,’ Ceri commented, trying to keep any disappointment out of her voice.
Lily shrugged. ‘He knew your parents, maybe it’s some respect thing.’
Ceri frowned. Yes, he had known her parents. ‘Lil,’ she said, ‘could you ask him if I could come see him tomorrow?’
‘Uh, sure, what about?’
‘Tell him it’s about my parents,’ Ceri said.
~~~
The trilling of the phone jerked Ceri out of her study of her test data with a start. Snatching up the handset from its cradle on the desk, she hit the receive button. ‘Hello,’ she said.
‘Ceri?’ The voice on the other end was Lily’s. ‘Can you get down to the Dragon? Now?’
Ceri glanced at the clock in the corner of her tablet; it was almost midnight. ‘Uh, yeah,’ she said. ‘Why?’
‘Carter said he needed to speak to you,’ Lily replied. ‘It needs to be tonight, he’s got to go down to Winchester in the morning.’
Ceri frowned. It seemed odd, but… ‘I’ll be there in about forty-five minutes,’ she said, and hung up.
Heading up to her room, she dressed quickly, pulling on a teddy she thought Lily would like and her black jeans with the red embroidery. There was a brief consideration of footwear before she plumped for a pair of sling-backed heels. Curiosity at what Carter needed to talk to her about spurred her on and she hurried out of the house and through the south gate to cut across the park to the Oval tube station.
There was almost no moon; it was two days past new and only the barest sliver showed in the clear night sky. Ceri walked quickly through the trees, her eyes darting to every shadow. She no longer had her tattoos to protect her, just her wits and whatever magic she could summon up. As her heels clicked on the path, she decided that it might be a good idea to learn a few defensive spells sometime really soon.
The skin on her scalp tightened and she paused. Slowly she scanned the trees and bushes around her, looking for the source of the aura. Her Sight cut in and she saw the streamers of energy curling out of the shadows. A vampire; only a vampire could produce that kind of aura, negative and yet caressing. She clenched her fists and pushed back on it.
There was a hiss and a female figure emerged partially into the light. From the look of it, she was dressed in skin-tight Lycra from head to foot. Her eyes shone red through the face mask. Ceri looked back trying to stay confident. This was not some vampire out hunting. This one was here for a reason.
‘What do you want?’ Ceri demanded. The dark figure watched her for a second or two, apparently gauging her. ‘You’re not hunting,’ Ceri said. ‘Your aura doesn’t affect me. What do you want?’
Reaching behind her back, the vampire produced a pair of knives and moved forward with the kind of speed only vampires and demons could manage. Ceri gasped and threw up her arms. Steel sparked off magic, a knife blocked by the bare skin of her arm, and Ceri dropped to her knees as the vampire jumped over her.
There would be another strike. Ceri turned, her hand pushing out toward the vampire as she spun. Fire burst from her palm, a jet of flame which struck its target and exploded across the undead’s chest. There was a shriek and the smell of melted plastic and charred flesh assailed Ceri’s nostrils. For a second, Ceri thought the vampire would attack again and prepared herself for another strike. Then the figure in black let out a half-sob of pain, and ran, vanishing into the darkness.
Soho
‘What possessed you to come here?!’ Lily asked. Her voice was full of concern, exasperation, and fear.
Ceri shook her head and sipped at the glass of whiskey that Alec had forced into her hand at some point. The liquid burned her throat and she almost gagged, but when it was down a delicious feeling of warmth flowed up from the pit of her stomach. ‘I was coming here,’ she said, her voice a monotone. ‘When she ran… all I could think of was to get here.’ She looked up at Lily; she had never seen her friend look so scared. ‘You were here,’ she said softly.
‘You should have gone home,’ Lily said. ‘You’d be safe inside the wards.’
‘I’m safe here,’ Ceri said. ‘I’m behind my parents’ enchantments, and a ronin werewolf, and a half-demon, and a wizard.’
‘It sounds,’ Carter said, entering the office, ‘as if you managed to defend yourself well enough on your own.’
Lily spun on her heel. Ceri felt her aura flare, but not its usual form, this was anger. ‘A widder-damned vampire assassin, Carter! Someone sent an assassin for her!’
The club’s owner smiled reassuringly and stepped right into the heart of the flames, taking Lily by the shoulders. Ceri looked at them, wondering if it was his willpower or his wizardry keeping him on his feet. ‘She’s alive, Lily. Any fight you can walk away from is a good one.’ The aura died away as Lily calmed herself. Carter nodded. ‘Good. Now go out there and be the best waitress in the club. I need to talk to Ceri.’
Lily looked like she was going to argue, but nodded. She looked back at Ceri. ‘I’ll see you later, ‘kay?’
Ceri mustered a smile for her friend and nodded. She watched as Lily headed for the door, her pace becoming more like a strut the closer she got until, as she walked through and pulled the door closed behind her, the half-succubus was all business.
Carter walked over, pulling a straight-backed chair from his desk over to in front of the couch Ceri was sat on. She watched him, taking a sip of her drink. The burning was less this time, but the warmth felt just as good.
He smiled. ‘I called a friend in the Greycoats. Some officers will want to talk to you tomorrow.’ He smiled slightly. ‘They wanted to talk to you tonight, but I told them you were safe, and in a state of shock. They’re dispatching a team to Cheryl’s flat…’
‘Oh! Cheryl…’ Ceri had not thought about it, but if someone had come after her, then it seemed likely they might try for Cheryl.
‘She’ll be quite safe,’ Carter said. ‘These people know what they’re doing.’ He looked down, gathering his thoughts, and appeared to be struggling with what he was about to say.
Ceri frowned. ‘What is it? What’s up?’
He looked up at her again. ‘About a month before your parents had their accident,’ Carter said, and she noticed his voice caught slightly on the last word, ‘your mother came to me. She asked me to keep something for you and to give it to you when “the time was right.” Well, of course I asked her when the time would be right, and she said “I hope never, but if it does come, you’ll know.”’
‘Cryptic,’ Ceri said, ‘I get that a lot lately.’ Her heart was pounding and she took a sip of whiskey.
‘Your mother could be li
ke that,’ he replied. ‘When Lily said you wanted to ask me about your parents, I concluded this was the time she was talking about. We were close, your parents and I, in college. We lost touch after… after I left.’ There was the same sort of catch in his voice and pain in his eyes, and Ceri wondered how close they had been. He smiled, weakly, though it showed in his eyes even through the pain which was still there. ‘I can see both of them in you. You have your mother’s eyes…’
He straightened up, drawing in a breath, and took something from his inside breast pocket. It was an envelope, white and plain, with a wax seal over the flap. As he held it out to her she could see her own name written on the front in her mother’s handwriting. ‘She enchanted the seal,’ he said. ‘You’re the only one who can open it.’
Tentatively, she took the letter from him, turning it over to look at the seal. It was her mother’s personal rune. Carter climbed to his feet. ‘I’ll be out front,’ he said. ‘I think you’ll want to read it alone.’ He was gone before she thought to say anything to the contrary. Taking a deep breath, she broke the seal and pulled out the single sheet of paper within. She recognised her mother’s delicate handwriting and glanced at the corner of the page where she could see the date. Her mother had written it on February twelfth twenty-oh-four and they had died on the sixteenth of April. Focussing on the actual words was hard, but she forced herself to do it.
Ceridwyn, if you’re reading this then I’m sorry. If you’re reading this then you come to hear what I have to say through a letter delivered by a man you hardly know. It will likely seem a little odd to you that I’ve trusted Carter with this, but despite everything that happened, perhaps because of it, I do trust him. You must make up your own mind whether to trust him, I can’t give advice to you on that.
To the point then. The first thing I should say is that we told ourselves we did it out of love. We wanted to keep our only daughter safe. But we also did it out of fear, and that was wrong. We always thought we would free you when you got older, but as you do get older we find ourselves making excuses. I don’t know whether we will summon the courage to break your enchantments. I hope we do, but the letter you are reading is insurance against the chance that we do not.
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