"We need to find out if Kiva's still living in the same house," Ren said. "From there, we should be able to track Darragh down."
"How we be doing that?" Plunkett asked. "We be in London, not Dublin."
"Same way I used to find out where she was and what she was up to when I lived with her," Ren said. "The tabloids."
* * *
It wasn't as easy as they'd hoped to come and go through the Shard. There was no power to the elevators on the first four floors they tried. On the fifth floor down from the stone circle, they opened the fire escape door and walked into a room that obviously had power. There were banks upon banks of lights trained on what looked to Pete like the largest and most extensive hydroponic marijuana growing operation he'd ever seen - and he'd seen some impressive installations in his time with the Gardaí.
"Crap," Ren said, looking around in awe. "What is this place?"
"The bank," Pete suggested, as he walked to the nearest bench to see the seedlings beginning to poke through the growing medium in their hydroponic tubes. The sound of water being pumped through the troughs filled the air, which was humid and moist and completely unexpected this high off the ground.
"What do you mean?"
"The Matrarchaí has to get their money from somewhere. What do you think keeps the Mafia cashed up? That's what drove organized crime to drugs, you know. Ready cash."
"You think the Matrarchaí is funding itself by growing dope?"
Pete leaned a little closer to the seedlings and shook his head. "I'd say yes, but this isn't pot."
"What is it then?"
"They look like kozo trees."
"Kozo trees can't survive here," Ren said. "Not in this realm. There's no magic to sustain them."
"There is here in the Enchanted Sphere."
"What's the point of that?"
"I don't know. Let's find someone from the Matrarchaí and ask them."
"Very funny. Maybe they're using them to help sustain the Enchanted Sphere."
"These poor little buggers don't look like they could sustain much of anything," Pete said. "They're too small."
Ren looked around the room, shaking his head. "There're thousands of them, though."
"Which makes it interesting, but a mystery to be solved some other time. Try the lift."
The power was - thankfully - connected to the elevators from the hydroponics floor down, and as the sun rose over London, the building began to fill with workmen. Some were working on the Shangri-La Hotel that would occupy a good portion of the building between the thirty-fourth and the fiftieth floors, others on fit-outs of the offices, restaurants and shops that would occupy the rest of the building. Although there was nothing special marking the floor where the stone circle was concealed, there was nothing else marked as special, either. As they stepped into the elevator, however, Pete noticed the initials ORM written on tape and stuck on the several of the upper floors.
"The Matrarchaí are planning to move in soon, I'd say," he noted, as the doors closed. Plunkett waned out of the elevator as soon as it started to move. He didn't like elevators.
"How do you know that?" Ren asked.
Pete pointed to the tape and the handwritten initials. "Well, besides the kozo farm, look at this. ORM. That's the modeling agency Delphine used to run as a cover for the Matrarchaí."
Although he had Delphine's memories, Ren seemed to have little interest in her activities in this realm that didn't directly impact on her plans to eradicate the Faerie. There was too much information in his head, Pete supposed; too many other-people's memories. Sometimes, it really was just easier to ask.
For himself, Pete found the idea that he was back home more than a little surreal. Alarming even. Oddly, he discovered had no desire to look up old friends, not even to enquire after his cousin Kelly or his grandmother. He knew now that neither of those women were related to him. They were Matrarchaí, just like Delphine and apparently most of the models who'd worked for her. It had been a truly inspired cover for an organization whose main purpose seemed to be the blending of bloodlines designed to produce twins dedicated to the genocide of the Faerie. All those gorgeous girls coming and going. In one day and out the next.
Nobody suspected a damned thing.
But the mention of ORM must have sparked an odd random memory in Ren's mind and, curiously, the memory apparently belonged to him, not the other people he carried around which Pete privately thought made him more than a little unstable. "I think that's the modeling agency Kiva was with before she got her big break as an actress."
"There's a shock." It would make sense that Kiva, who'd adopted a child thrown into this reality from another, was somehow connected to the Matrarchaí. There were no coincidences in their worlds. Everything was connected and although Pete disdained the notion of fate, there seemed to be something more than random chance governing the series of events that had brought them to this place, at this time.
"Are you okay?"
Pete nodded, and forced himself to focus on the problem at hand. The life he'd had in this world was lost to him. He couldn't get it back, even if he wanted it. "I'm fine. Its just feels a bit weird being back here. Almost as if it was meant to be."
Ren nodded in agreement. "I know what you mean. I worry sometimes, that we're just puppets ... even though we think we're fighting them, the Matrarchaí are secretly pulling our strings."
"There's a cheery thought," Pete said, wondering why Ren sounded so bleak. He thought he'd be a little cheerful, at least, at the idea of being reunited with his brother.
The elevator doors opened into organized chaos. They'd not taken the elevator all the way to the ground floor; they were still thirty-five floors up. They needed a reason to be coming and going in this building, which was still a construction site even if it was just the finishing touches .
They needed to find something less obvious to wear. Ren and Pete were both wearing the clothes they'd entered the ninja realm in, over a decade ago. At least Pete was. Ren had matured into a man in that time. His clothes no longer fitted so he was dressed in the jeans, polo shirt and sports jacket Logan had been wearing when Delphine knocked him and Pete out cold with Brionglóid Gorm and carried them through the rift with the intention of murdering them. Tiffany had been killed in the same fracas that had seen Ren kill Delphine, and Pete realized he hadn't spared her a thought in years. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if Logan thought of her very often, or wondered about his unborn child who had died with her that day.
"Hey!"
Pete realized Ren had been talking to him. He hadn't heard a thing. "What?"
"Over there."
Ren was pointing at a set of hooks across what was soon to be a foyer to a temporary wall that held a number of fluorescent yellow, high-visibility vests with hard hats hanging over them. There were signs everywhere warning that this was a hardhat area and the few figures they could see in the distance were dressed in a similar fashion. Pete nodded and they headed for the hooks. A few moments later they were dressed like every other workman in the building and able to move about with a little more freedom.
Pete straightened his fluorescent yellow hat and turned to Ren. "Ready to do this?"
"Can you feel it?"
"Feel what?"
"There's no magic on this level. We're out of the Enchanted Sphere."
Pete could feel the lack of magic, now Ren pointed it out, and it shocked him to realize how much he missed it. He didn't have time to say so, though. The elevator chimed as the door opened and another couple of workmen emerged talking to each other. They nodded to Ren and Pete as they walked toward the far side of the floor, but didn't challenge them.
First test passed with flying colours, Pete thought, pulling his hat down over his eyes. He hurried into the elevator before the doors closed again with Ren on his heels and pushed the button tape-marked Lobby, same as the one that had identified the ORM Agency and the various other tenants moving into the building.
"You re
ady for this?" he asked Ren as the elevator began to descend.
Ren shook his head. "No."
"Me neither," Pete admitted as they began to descend. "Not even a little bit."
Chapter 28
"They've gone?" Trása asked. "What do you mean, they've gone?"
Toyoda shuffled his feet uncomfortably, as if he wanted to be somewhere else. "That's all I can be telling ye, m'lady," he said. "Lord Renkavana, Lord Logan and Lord Pete took the merman's jewel and went through the rift. They be taking that pesky Leipreachán, Plunkett O'Bannon with them, I be relieved to report. I now be on a mission for Renkavana that be mighty important. I be thinking, however, that ye be interested in knowing they be gone, before I be on me way."
"Interested doesn't even begin to cover it," Nika said, glaring at the Leipreachán. "Why did you let them leave?"
"It's not his fault," Trása said, walking to the edge of the bower to look down over the tree-filled twilight expanse of Tír Na nÓg. She crossed her arms across her body, suddenly chilled for no reason she could explain. "Toyoda couldn't stop Rónán doing anything he wanted. Or Pete and Logan, either, for that matter. Did you know Pete was planning to go rift running with Rónán?"
"He said they were going for a 'boy's night out' - whatever that means - to that pub in Draffaugh they seem to like so much." She turned on the Leipreachán. "Did they say anything to you about where they were going?"
"It's obvious where they're going," Trása said before the Leipreachán could answer. "They've taken Marcroy's jewel. They're going to get Darragh."
"Just like that?" Nika snorted with derision. "No planning. No preparation?"
"I wouldn't say that," Trása said. "I suspect Rónán's been planning this for ten years."
"You're taking the news very well," Nika remarked.
Trása smiled and turned back to face the tall Briton. "I've nobody to blame but myself, Nika. I sent Pete and Logan to my realm. I enticed Abbán here with the jewel that made access to the realm where Darragh is stranded possible. I can hardly be annoyed they're now doing exactly what I wanted them to do."
"Without you?" Nika asked pointedly.
That was the rub. That was what hurt. Rónán had gone back for Darragh and hadn't asked for her help. Hadn't even told her he was going.
When did he decide to go back and launch this daring rescue? Before he made love to me? After? During?
"He doesn't need me," she explained, as much to ease her own hurt as to reassure the Merlin. "He grew up in that realm. So did Pete and Logan. They know more about it than I ever will."
Nika looked unconvinced and more than a little annoyed. Pete, Trása guessed, was going to have some explaining to do when he got back. The Merlin turned her aggravation on Toyoda. "What else did Lord Rónán say? You said he gave you a mission. What mission?"
"That be none of ye concern, Missy Merlin. That be between me and Lord Renkavana."
The Merlin advanced on the Leipreachán with a threatening glare. "Insolent worm. Do I have to invoke your true name?"
Toyoda glared at her defiantly. "Ye not be knowing it, Merlin. Ye just pretending ye do. And I not be telling ye anythin'. This be the most important thing Renkavana ever be asking me to do, on pain of death."
"Why you -"
"Enough, Nika. Leave him be." Trása normally appreciated the Merlin's desire to watch out for her interests, but they didn't have time for her to get into an argument with a Leipreachán. Trása didn't doubt for a moment that Rónán had given Toyoda a task of apparently great import. The Leipreachán would have wanted to go through the rift with him - a dangerous risk given they would have to traverse the realm where his eileféin, Plunkett O'Bannon, originated from. Although they only needed to be in that realm long enough to open another rift, if they were caught there with two versions of the same creature, there would be dire consequences.
Nika glared at the Leipreachán a moment longer and then turned to Trása. "Are we going to follow them?"
"We can't," she said, although that was not strictly true. Trása could open a rift to her own world using ori mahou whenever she wanted. She might be able to catch up to them before they crossed into the other realm. She'd turn back into an owl the moment she stepped through, but it was tempting. Very tempting.
Her thought was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Echo. The pixie was in a panic, flapping her wings so fast they were a buzzing blur. "Trouble! Trouble! Trouble!"
"What?" Trása asked, trying to follow the movement of the panicked pixie who was flitting about so quickly, she couldn't get a fix on her at all. "Slow down, Echo! What trouble!"
"Merman gone! Merman gone! Merman gone!" she shrieked as she skittered about Trása's head like a terrified wasp.
Nika muttered a curse under her breath. "I'll go and find where he wandered off to," she offered. "He'll be staggering drunk from the pool, no doubt. He can't have gone too far."
The pixie buzzed about in a frenzy. "Merman be gone with Stiofán! Merman be gone with Stiofán! Merman be gone with Stiofán!"
"Stiofán?" Trása asked in surprise. She hadn't seen the refugee Tuatha Dé Danann lord since her encounter on the stairs when he was complaining about his accommodation. "Why would Abbán go with Stiofán?"
"To cause trouble," Nika suggested. "Why else?"
"Cause trouble," Echo agreed. "Cause trouble! Cause trouble!"
"Do you know where they went?" she asked the pixie, although she wasn't hopeful of getting a useful answer. Pixies didn't view the world the same way as other Youkai. Her frame of reference was likely to be so skewed it was useless.
"They follow the face in the water," she babbled, her erratic buzzing giving Trása a headache. "Face in the water. Face in the water."
"Face in the water?" Nika repeated, shaking her head. "Gods above and below, you can't count on a pixie to make sense of anything, not even when ... an Bhantiarna? Is something wrong?"
All the blood had drained from Trása's face. "If Echo saw a face in the water, then Abbán was scrying someone. Or someone scried him out."
"Who would know he was here?"
"Scrying doesn't need anybody to know where he is precisely," Trása explained, remembering that in the Merlin's reality, scrying was a lost art. "Just knowing who you want to contact, a small body of water. And magic."
"And your merman cousin was immersed in the most magical water in the realm," the Merlin reminded her unnecessarily. "This is bad, yes? I am so sorry, an Bhantiarna ... I didn't realize ..."
"It might not be so bad. It depends on who he was scrying." Trása didn't add that there was only one person Abbán would probably attempt to scry out. She almost didn't want to admit it herself. "I guess ..."
She didn't finish the sentence. At that moment both Toyoda and Echo blinked out of existence as a song began to drift up from the lower levels of the bower. The song was sweet and clear and totally unnecessary, not the least of which because she had only ever heard the song in her realm. It was a song a greeting. A song of welcome reserved for someone of great importance. It was the song they sang when Orlagh descended from her lofty heights to mingle with her subjects.
It was the song they sang to greet royalty.
"Shit," Trása said, hurrying to the edge. She looked down but couldn't see the ground from here. The song increased in volume, the sweet music so joyous, so exultant, that it made her feel sick.
"What's happening?" Nika asked, as she hurried to Trása's side.
"We have a visitor," she replied with absolute certainty.
The music rose up in volume, as if it was moving toward them.
"Who?" Nika asked. Trása could see she was worried, but she couldn't bring herself to speak the name, even though she knew, with every fibre of her being, who approached them on this wave of glorious song. "Who is it?"
Trása didn't answer. She turned toward the bower stairs as the music reached its crescendo. A few moments later, surrounded by a horde of blissful Youkai, the reason for the
song emerged.
Stiofán came first, followed by Abbán, whose spindly land legs were trembling from the climb up the countless bower steps to this lofty perch.
Behind them came a familiar figure, one she loved and feared with almost equal measure. He stepped onto the bower, glanced around and then smiled at her so warmly it made Trása's blood run cold.
"Ah, so there you are, my precious," Marcroy Tarth said, his words laden with equal measures of warm greetings and dire undertones. He was dressed in a pretentious flowing cloak, white thigh boots over white trousers and a gossamer shirt designed to enhance his spectacular physique.
No wonder the Youkai had greeted him like a king, Trása thought irreverently. The only thing missing from his outfit is a crown.
"We've so missed you back in the realm where you belong, little bird." He glanced around at the once-abandoned kingdom of Tír Na nÓg that she had filled with refugees from other realities and then fixed his terrifying gaze on her. It was impossible to judge his mood. "And look at you ... not a bird ... a queen."
"Not for long," Stiofán announced behind him, with a smug smile as he eyed off what he undoubtedly believed would be his new quarters.
Trása couldn't speak, partly from fear, partly from simply not knowing what to say.
Marcroy stepped forward and studied her for a moment longer and then smiled knowingly. "I see. The curse is not broken, is it? Just suspended for a while. That explains, I suppose, your reluctance to return home."
Trása bent one knee and lowered her head. "Greetings, uncle."
With the gentlest of fingers, Marcroy put his finger under her chin and raised her head, making her stand. He tilted her face so she was staring into his dark, cat-slit eyes. "Where are they, little bird?"
"Pardon?"
"Where are they, Trása?" Marcroy repeated, his finger still under her chin, more threatening than if he had been standing over her with an axe. "And do not lie to me, because I will know if you lie and I can make you speak the truth. Believe me, if you force my hand, it will not be pleasant."
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