Reunion

by Jennifer Fallon

  That wouldn't be a problem after Partition. There would be many less people and the Matrarchaí - every one of them able to use the replenished magic now filling the world - planned to bring order out of the chaos.

  The scope of the Matrarchaí's mission was daunting. In addition to their plans to breed a set of twins "special" enough to force Partition, they were cultivating as many kozo and washi trees as they could cram into their hydroponics labs. When the realm was filled with magic again, they could sustain it with the magical trees brought here from Teagan's realm - the only reality with the special trees where they had successfully eradicated most of the Youkai and could harvest the necessary seeds.

  The excitement down on the lawn seemed to be over. The pilot had secured the helo, the patient disappeared into the small but astonishingly well-equipped medical ward on the other side of the building, and Mother disappeared from view with the girl in the jacket.

  They might tell Teagan what was going on tomorrow. More than likely they wouldn't. Teagan didn't get told much at all, really.

  She wandered back to bed and climbed under the blankets, wondering if it would take her long to fall back to sleep. She'd been having trouble sleeping lately, and when she did fall asleep she dreamed of her twin sister, Isleen.

  Where are you, Issy? Teagan wondered, wishing she was allowed into the Enchanted Sphere with Mother on one of her trips. Perhaps then she could scry her sister out and learn what was happening. Are you well? Have you met a boy you like better than yourself?

  Like herself, Isleen would be nearly twenty now. Perhaps she was no longer a virgin. Teagan was still a virgin. Mother had yet to approve a match for her and her blood was too precious, so she'd been told, to allow her to waste her eggs on foolish liaisons that might damage her ability to carry the children the Matrarchaí needed for their breeding program.

  Perhaps Isleen had a baby by now.

  Teagan remembered thinking how nice it was to not have a twin around to share her glory when she first came to this realm. Lately she'd been missing her sister more than she thought possible.

  When she'd heard of the Matrarchaí's mission, she'd thought she was one of the special twins. Mother let her believe it for a time, too, until it became clear she wasn't so special. She was an Empress twin, but there were Empress twins aplenty across all the realms the Matrarchaí dabbled in.

  The twins Mother wanted, were something more again.

  Teagan found herself just another cog in a very large machine and it made her angry.

  She liked feeling special.

  Back in her home realm, even after Renkavana and Trása arrived, she had been special.

  I am Undivided. I am an Empress.

  Here she was little more than a pampered breeding cow, waiting for the farmer to find the right bull to stand at stud.

  Teagan pulled the covers up and turned on her side. That's all I am to the Matrarchaí, she thought, tears welling in her eyes. A breeding cow.

  It was then that Teagan realized something else.

  She didn't want to help the Matrarchaí achieve Partition. Mother and her vengeance could rot.

  I want to go home.

  It was a startling revelation and, for the first time since she was a small child, Teagan cried herself to sleep.

  Chapter 40

  "You'll forgive me for asking the obvious question," Annad said, as he poured a drink for everyone in the living room of his tidy suburban home. The house was not especially grand, but you could tell by the quality of the furniture and the eighteen-year-old whiskey they were served, that Annad and his wife were comfortably well-off. "Where the hell have you been?"

  "Off with the Faeries," Logan said with a grin, accepting the glass Annad offered him.

  "That's helpful," Annad said, after handing Pete his drink and taking a seat in the armchair by the fireplace.

  "Helpful or not, it's true," Pete said, imagining how insane they must sound to a man who made his living diagnosing insanity. He took a sip of the whiskey and closed his eyes, savouring the taste.

  There had to be a way they could sneak a couple of bottles of decent whiskey back with them when they left this reality.

  "Would you care to elaborate?" Annad was a clever psychologist. And far too experienced to appear judgmental.

  "Do you remember Darragh? The kid who turned out to be Ren Kavanaugh's twin? Ren was the actress's kid."

  Annad nodded. "I not only remember him, I spoke to him the other day."

  "Is he still claiming he comes from another reality?"

  "I think Darragh has learned the foolishness of stating his belief out loud," Annad said. "I am not convinced he still doesn't believe it's true."

  "He believes it's true, because it is true," Logan said, leaning forward with his empty glass. "Any chance of a refill?"

  Annad pointed to the bottle on the sideboard. "Be my guest."

  "We must sound completely mad," Pete said, resisting the temptation to gulp his drink down like Logan had.

  "No," Annad said, "you sound quite sane. What you're saying sounds mad, though."

  "How can we prove it to you?" Logan asked. He'd poured himself nearly half a glass of Annad's very expensive Kilbeggan single malt.

  "Short of taking me to another reality with you and showing it to me in person, I'm not sure you can."

  "Ah, that's going to be a problem," Pete admitted. "You see, we're kind of stuck here at the moment."

  Annad smiled. "Really? How convenient."

  "I know what it sounds like -" Pete began.

  "Given your own qualifications, Pete, I'm quite sure you do. I'm interested that you both appear to believe this remarkable tale, which makes me wonder: are you sharing this delusion or playing a prank on me?"

  "Annad, do you really think the first thing I would do on reappearing after being missing for a decade is come around here to play a practical joke on you?" He swallowed the last of his whiskey and stood up. Best to get another before Annad decided to call the Gardaí, throw them out or Logan drank it all. "Now that would be insane."

  "No crazier than what you're expecting me to believe," the psychologist replied, watching them both closely.

  "Why were you visiting Darragh?" Logan asked, as he filled Pete's glass with an equally generous dose of Annad's whiskey. "Are you treating him for something?"

  "I'm not at liberty to say."

  "Unless you're working for the prison service now, he's not your patient," Logan said. "They have plenty of their own psychologists on staff."

  "Is it because Hayley came back?" Pete asked. He suspected the only way they were going to secure Annad's assistance was by proving they knew things they could not have knowledge of by normal means. Perhaps then, even if they couldn't convince him of the truth of their tale about alternate realities, they could at least convince him there was more than meets the eye to it.

  Annad paused for a moment, and then nodded. "It's been in the papers so it won't hurt to discuss that, but yes, that's one of the reasons. Hayley's family were about to have her declared dead when she miraculously reappeared claiming to have been gone only a week."

  "You've spoken to her?" Pete asked.

  Annad nodded. "I spoke to her the day she turned up out of the blue, right at the same place where she was last seen."

  Pete and Logan shared a knowing look before Pete turned to Annad. "And she thinks she's only been missing a week? What does she look like?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean she's been gone ten years. Does Hayley Boyle look seventeen or twenty-seven?"

  Annad swirled the whiskey around in his glass before he answered. "In truth? I'd have to say she still looks and acts seventeen."

  "There," Logan said, "you have your proof!"

  "What I have is a young woman who has aged remarkably well, with amnesia, probably brought on by PTSD."

  Logan grinned at the psychologist. "I like our explanation better."

  "I'm sure you do."

&
nbsp; "How's Darragh doing?"

  "He has his ups and downs."

  Annad was hedging, which meant even if he wasn't treating Darragh directly, he still considered him enough of a patient that he wasn't about to discuss him. Perhaps, if the psychologist could be persuaded they knew things they couldn't possibly otherwise know, he might be a little more forthcoming.

  It was urgent they find a way to secure his aid. The only way they were going to find Ren and get out of this reality was to be there when he turned up looking for his brother.

  "Has he been self-harming again?" Pete asked, playing a hunch. He remembered Ren telling him about the reaction to injuries he'd received as a child. He guessed the reaction to Darragh and Ren's most recent communication would have attracted much the same unwanted attention.

  "Why do you ask?"

  "Is that why you're seeing him?" Logan asked, jumping to the same conclusion as Pete. "Because he carved 'get me out' across his belly?"

  Pete saw the surprise flicker across Annad's normally serene face before he could hide it and knew he was on the right track.

  "Do you know why he did it?" Pete asked, not taking his eyes of Annad.

  "I have a feeling you're going to tell me," he replied, still refusing to confirm or deny anything.

  "Darragh was sending his brother Ren a message. He's had enough, and he wants out."

  "Hardly a brilliant or insightful diagnosis," Annad said, "given the words get me out featured heavily in his handiwork."

  "Aha!" Logan exclaimed. "You have seen the message."

  Annad refused to comment on that.

  Pete smiled. He could pretend to know nothing, but it was obvious he knew plenty, a bonus really, because Pete had been hoping merely that Annad might be able to get them in to see Darragh, not that he might already have unrestricted access to him. "Aren't you going to ask how we know what he did?"

  "I'm almost afraid to."

  Logan spoke up before Pete had a chance. "Ren and Darragh can make injuries appear on each other using airgead sídhe."

  That made Annad smile faintly. "Faerie silver. Really?"

  "Its equivalent in this reality is titanium," Pete told him, not smiling at all.

  Annad's amusement faded. "Titanium?"

  "Don't know why," Pete said with a shrug, "but it seems to have similar properties."

  Annad paused, took a deep breath and then swallowed the remainder of his whiskey in a gulp. "A few days ago," he said, "Darragh prevailed upon me to send him a Remington Titanium 700 electric razor."

  "And the next thing you know he's carving messages into his belly."

  Annad nodded. "It makes sense, now. If Darragh believes the only way to contact his twin is with titanium ... I mean, he could have carved the same message into his skin with any number of sharp implements before now if it was merely the injury he thought initiated the contact."

  "It's not just that he believes titanium will connect him with his brother, Annad," Pete tried to explain. "It's true. We saw the message written on Ren."

  Annad was suddenly very still. "You've seen Ren Kavanaugh recently?"

  "We've both seen 'get me out' carved backward across his belly," Logan told him.

  "How long has he been in contact with his brother?"

  "He hasn't. We weren't here, Annad. We were in a pub in a town that doesn't even exist in this reality."

  "This reality?" Annad asked, his composure rattled for the first time since Pete had known him. "You too, Pete? Christ, is this alternate reality delusion contagious?"

  "It's not a delusion."

  "Of course not," Annad said, a little impatiently. "There are alternate realities and magic, and Faeries that keep popping in and out of this world, just to frustrate me."

  "I wish there was a way to prove what we're telling you is true," Pete said, not unsympathetic to Annad's frustration.

  "Show me," Annad said. "Open a door to one of these other realities. Do some real magic. Show me a real Faerie."

  Pete opened his mouth to offer an another hollow reassurance which he knew would sound fake, even to him, when out of nowhere, Echo, Trása's annoying pet pixie popped into existence buzzing about in front of his face. She zipped frantically about the room in a panic, screeching, "Trása's in trouble! Trása's in trouble! Trása's in trouble!"

  Annad leapt out of his chair. "What the hell?"

  Now that's what I call timing, Pete thought as he ducked to avoid Echo smacking into his head.

  Logan was on his feet, trying to catch the pixie. He finally caught her in his cupped hands and shushed her gently, while Annad stared at them like they were mad.

  Pete smiled. Whatever reason Echo had for being in this realm - and it was likely to be trouble if what she was chanting was even remotely true - she could not have found a better time to appear out of thin air.

  Logan, Echo carefully trapped between is palms, walked to over to where Annad was standing, his eyes as wide as saucers. "It's a pixie. Want to say hello?"

  "This is some sort of joke ..."

  "You wanted proof, Annad," Pete said. The look on Annad's face was something to behold. "Show him, Logan."

  His brother opened his hands a fraction and peered inside. "Are you going to be good?"

  "I'll be good. I'll be good. I'll be good," Echo responded in her tiny, high-pitched voice.

  Ever so gently, Logan removed his right hand and opened his fingers to reveal the little pixie standing on his palm. She smiled up at Pete when she saw him and then spied Annad and immediately took off and began buzzing around the room again in a frenzy, squealing, "Humans! Look out! Humans! Look out! Humans! Look out!"

  Logan shrugged and looked at Pete apologetically. "I tried." He turned to the pixie. "Echo! Cut it out! Come here and stop that flapping about!"

  "Is that really ...?" Annad mumbled, as - wide-eyed and bewildered - he watched Logan trying to bring Echo to heel. "It is actually ...?" Despite the fact there was a pixie whizzing around his living room, Annad apparently couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

  Pete nodded. "In the flesh. Annoying little critters they are, as a rule. You don't have any left that are indigenous to this reality."

  "Then where did ...?" Annad took a deep breath. "It didn't come from here, did it? It came from ... somewhere else."

  "Take a deep breath and say the words," Pete suggested. "It gets easier after a while."

  Annad shook his head. "I doubt that. What is it ... she ... doing here?"

  "That's a very good question," Logan said, still trying to calm Echo down enough to make sense. She had stopped buzzing around the room and was clinging to the top of the curtain pelmet, glaring at Annad like he was a gargoyle. "I'm sure Echo is going to tell us why she's here. Aren't you, little one? Come on ... there's nothing to be afraid of." Logan glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Annad. "They're very friendly, normally."

  "Kill the bad human! Kill the bad human! Kill the bad human!"

  "Obviously," Annad remarked, still staring at the pixie like he was hallucinating.

  "He's not a bad human," Logan coaxed, "He's one of the good ones. Now come down here and talk to me. What's the matter with Trása?"

  "Nika killed her! Brought her back. Nika killed her! Brought her back. Nika killed her! Brought her back," Echo chanted from the pelmet, but she seemed to be a tad less frenetic than when she had arrived.

  "Is Nika here in this realm?" Pete asked in shock. It wouldn't surprise him to learn Trása had found a way into this reality. She'd spent a lot of time here in the past. But Nika ... what the hell was she doing here?

  Logan must have read his mind. He looked over his shoulder at Pete, his brow furrowed with concern. "She must have gotten away from Marcroy and come here."

  "Nika's here, too."

  His brother grinned at the very idea. "Oh, that's going to be fine holiday fun for all."

  "What's he talking about?" Annad asked. They were having a conversation he couldn't follow and he was stil
l trying to get his head around the whole idea of pixies. "Who is Nika?"

  "The pixie has come here with some friends of ours," Pete explained. He looked up at Echo. "Are they okay?"

  "Nika's fine. Nika's fine. Trása's turning inside out. Nika's fine. Nika's fine. Trása's turning inside out. Nika's fine. Nika's fine. Trása's turning inside out."

  Pete looked to Logan for a translation but he just shrugged. He had no idea what she was babbling about either.

  "We should tell them to come here," Logan suggested.

  Pete turned to Annad. "Would that be okay?"

  Annad shrugged, shaking his head in complete bafflement. "Why not? Fairies, pixies, strange women ... I'm sure Stella will understand."

  Stella, Pete realized, must be Annad's wife. He didn't want to think about what they were going to say to her when she got home.

  "Echo, I need you to take a message to Trása and Nika," Pete said, stepping between the window and Annad so she couldn't fixate on him quite so obsessively.

  "She won't remember a message," Logan warned.

  He was right. Pixies had abysmal memories. "Can she carry a note?"

  Logan nodded. "A very small one."

  "It only needs to be an address and a phone number." He looked back at Annad. "Do you have a pen and a bit of paper I could use?"

  "What," Annad said, "no magic?"

  "Please."

  He pointed to the sideboard where the bottle of whiskey stood. "In the drawer."

  Pete hurried across the room and opened the drawer to find a clutter of odds and ends, including a number of pens and the remains of a pack of post-it notes. He scrawled the address of Annad's house on the note, asked him for his phone number and wrote that down, too, then folded the note and handed it to Logan, who seemed to be having some success with handling Echo and her mercurial moods.

  Logan held the folded note toward the pixie. "If you take this to Trása, I'll give you a treat."

  "Treat? Treat?" Echo asked, suddenly attentive. "What kind of treat? What kind of treat?"

  "Take this note to Trása and Nika, first. No treats until I know they've got the note."

  Almost before he'd finished speaking, Echo dived toward his hand, snatched the folded post-it note from his outstretched fingers and vanished.