by AnonYMous
They walked by a crowd of teenagers slinging insults at each other, and the group’s hormone-fueled wrath dissipated from his awareness as quickly and harmlessly as a foul scent.
They waited at the corner for the light to change, and a passing car full of drunken and rowdy women did not even cause his head to ache.
For the first time in two centuries in the mundane world, he felt . . . free. Unfettered by others’ tumultuous feelings and intentions.
And she was the one to thank for it.
“Look,” she said, and such was her effect that even her voice struck him as enchanting, a chime like a bell in a monastery. “I don’t know what we’re walking into. But I’m not . . . you know, good at conflict.”
The remark made him laugh. “You consider yourself a peacemaker, do you?” A day’s acquaintance was long enough to consider that ludicrous.
“I mean I don’t know karate,” she said, her irritation plain. “I took a self-defense class in college once . . . but it was four hours long and I managed to sprain my wrist.”
“It won’t come to that.” If he had imagined the encounter would turn violent, he would not have risked her in it.
The thought inspired a twist of discomfort. She was a treasure, and for the first time in memory, he felt covetous.
Not for ourselves, but for the world: so went the family motto. And it was true, her talents would go far to aid him in his cause to heal the city.
But his interest in Kate was anything but noble.
*
The outer door to Eagle’s apartment building had been propped open with a brick. Kate didn’t recognize anyone in the line of guests wending up the cement-block stairwall, but they made a classic San Franciscan blend of hipsters, techies, middle-aged weekend Wiccans, and Deadheads eligible for AARP cards. The languorous drone of trance music grew clearer and louder as she and North climbed the steps.
The occasion was festive—a celebration of Eagle’s divorce. Kate discovered this at the top of the stairs, where somebody had tacked a “HAPPY DIVORCE” banner over the door to Eagle’s apartment.
North led the way inside, navigating through clouds of incense, a pile of shoes, a belled and beaded curtain, into a large kitchen-living space whose floor-to-ceiling window overlooked the street. Candlelight flickered across tangled piles of partygoers who lounged against bolster pillows on Persian rugs.
To Kate’s left rose a granite counter that divided the living room from the kitchen. A young man was using the counter as a staging ground for a massive pile of coke. As he finished cutting lines and bent down with a straw, sharp noises of disapproval came from two women sharing a joint nearby.
“That’ll kill you,” one of weed smokers said to the man.
“Definitely,” he agreed, and wiped his twitching nose. “I look forward to it.”
“Cheerful!” said Kate.
“Do you see him anywhere?” asked North.
She squinted through the dimness. “I’ve only met him twice. I’m not good with faces.” But she remembered that he looked like an extra from some sitcom in 1980s Miami, dark mustache and floral button-down and all. He’d also been wearing feathers in his hair.
Only one person in the room was sporting that sartorial touch tonight. He was hunched over a low coffee table, showing off a glass ball to two slender young women in seasonally inappropriate sundresses.
Kate pointed. “There?”
North swore.
He hadn’t struck her as the kind of guy to use single-syllable language. “What?” she asked. “Just go up to him—”
The glass ball began to flicker. The sundressed girls crowed in astonishment as a red, pulsing light filled the ball.
“Wow,” Kate heard herself say. “Neat trick.”
As the red light strengthened, the temperature in the room kicked up by ten degrees. The air thickened and then seemed to sharpen, a scratchy solid weight in her nose and throat. North was stepping forward, but she found herself frozen in place by astonishment.
The light was impossibly bright. It painted the entire room in a crimson wash, and people were starting to notice. The cokehead straightened, and the weed smokers exclaimed.
“Put it down,” she heard North say.
“Fuck you,” slurred Eagle. Drunk? Very nice. Her mother’s taste in men was unparalleled.
Kate stepped up. “Hey! You stole that from my mom.”
He looked at her and laughed. In the weird red light, his teeth looked coated in blood.
“Your mom is history,” he said. “We’re getting divorced, cookie.”
“That’s one hell of a nightlight,” said one of the sundress girls.
Okay, a nightlight. Right. But sweat was beading on Kate’s forehead. She wasn’t imagining the temperature change. The heat just kept rising.
“You have no idea what that orb can do.” North’s voice was low, flat. But somehow it sliced clearly through the music, the rising hubbub of the onlookers. It got the attention of the girls with Eagle, who shrank back from whatever they saw in North’s face.
“I know exactly what it does,” said Eagle. “How does it feel to have the tables turned? Not every Fifth Triber is weak.” He lifted the orb in one cupped palm, and North visibly flinched.
None of this made sense. But logic didn’t matter anymore. Not when Kate knew, in her gut, that something very bad was about to happen. “Take it,” she snapped at North.
Eagle laughed. “That’s right. You want it? Take it!”
A great bloody light flashed out of the globe.
Kate cried out and threw her arm over her eyes. When she lowered it, she found North staring fixedly at the orb, his face immobile, his mouth frozen in a twisted grimace.
Eagle seemed riveted, too. He glared upward at the orb with the fixed lunacy of a crazed statue.
The orb loosed a piercing shriek. Kate grabbed North’s wrist, horrified. “Do something!”
Under her grip, North’s arm felt as inflexible as iron.
He wasn’t even blinking.
Kate recoiled. “What is wrong with you?”
As she looked wildly around, something registered:
Nobody was moving.
The girls in sundresses stood frozen, their palms pressed against their cheeks, the red light strobing across their horrified eyes.
Even the twitchy cokehead looked immobile.
Fear. Kate had never really felt it before. It took control of her now, pulling her backward, away from the orb. Away from North and Eagle. And with each step she took toward the exit, the orb’s shriek dimmed. She reached the counter where the cokehead hunched with one knuckle in his nose—and the orb began to purr.
Go, it murmured. Leave.
Her lungs seized on a hard breath. That—wasn’t possible. She was not hearing that.
Leave, the orb sang.
She was hallucinating again.
Run, little girl.
Run? Her temper flared. Cowards ran. Why did it want her to run? What did it intend to do next?
As though it heard her thoughts, it suddenly darkened in hue, sinking from cherry red through a deep, rich scarlet into a darkening light, the color of dried blood.
The color of death.
Last chance, it hummed, and she heard now the flat and sharp notes rising beneath the harmonic purr, the notes of threat and murderous promise and . . .
Fear?
She had lost her mind. But she felt suddenly certain, right down to her bones, that the orb was afraid of her.
You have no idea of your own potential.
No. No way was she rushing that thing. She’d be blinded, deafened, incinerated. Killed by a glass ball—what a ridiculous way to go!
Oddly fitting for the daughter of Pangaea Marsh, though.
A terrified laugh escaped her. Hysterical sounding, really.
Oh, screw it. As she stepped forward, the orb began to shriek again. Now it meant business. The very air contracted—hardening, tightening around her l
ungs. A shrieking, whining pressure built against her ears, pounding until it hurt, oh god did it hurt. The light was so bright now that tears filled her eyes. Little son of a bitch piece of glass—
“Screw . . . you!” With the last ounce of force in her body, she lunged forward and snatched the orb from Eagle’s hands.
Noise, movement, darkness. The music resumed in the middle of the chorus. The air iced over, the temperature plummeting. People dropped into seats, collapsed onto the rug. Eagle toppled backward onto a girl’s sandaled feet.
The orb felt hot in her hands, alive and . . . angry.
Sore loser.
“Kate.” North sounded exhausted. She looked up at him, her face no doubt the picture of . . . amazement? Wonder?
No, more like comic shock—her jaw unhinged, her eyes moon-round.
Nobody around them looked concerned, though. Apart from Eagle, who slumped unconscious on the carpet, people generally seemed cheerful. They picked themselves up off the carpet, turned back to their conversations and drinks and drugs, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
As though a glass ball had not just tried to kill them all.
Nausea suddenly churned through her. She felt light-headed, like she was going to pass out. She did not want to be holding the orb. But she didn’t dare put it down. “Take this,” she choked, and thrust it at North.
The moment he took hold of it, the gorge rose in her throat. “Kate,” he said gently, but she turned on her heel and dashed out.
*
Later, after she’d gagged her way down the stairs and dry-heaved in the street, she said, “I have questions.”
They were sitting on a bench at a bus stop. North had all the signs of a great drinking buddy: he’d held her hair back and braced her like a champ. Still, she was glad she hadn’t vomited. Her vanity had limits.
“I have answers,” he said.
“Yeah.” She looked at him a long moment. “An elf, huh? But no pointy ears.”
“Not an elf,” he said. “But it’s a common mistake.”
“Then . . .”
“A variation of Sidhe.”
“That doesn’t really clarify much.”
“A long-living but not immortal creature whose primary calling is to attend to the history of the Five Tribes.”
She held up a finger as her throat jerked, waiting a long moment until she was sure this wave of nausea would also subside without results. Then, swallowing, she said, “You have any gum?”
He shook his head.
“Wait, I have gum.” She rummaged in her pocket, pulled out a stick of Juicy Fruit. Chewed hard for a long few moments, and then took another deep breath, this one scented by the diesel from a passing garbage truck.
North was patient. Self-possessed: that was the main quality she’d ascribe to him in this moment, sitting tall, watching silently as she again looked for—and to her surprise, actually found—a renewed measure of calm.
“Okay,” she said. “Five Tribes. And humans . . .”
“Humans are the Fifth Tribe.”
“Oh.” That was what Eagle had meant. Not every Fifth Triber is weak. “So we’re in your wheelhouse, then?” She felt relieved. “Not, like, vermin or something.”
“No, Kate.” Very gently, he touched her cheek. “We are all Earth’s children.”
Earth’s children. Yeah, that sounded like something her mother would say, too.
He was still touching her face. Awareness sizzled through her. She felt dizzy, though. She leaned back a little, out of reach, so she could think more clearly.
It was going to take a while to sink in. But she couldn’t doubt her sanity now, not after what she’d seen.
What she’d done.
“You were . . . frozen,” she whispered.
“The orb is powerful. It would not abide misuse.” His jaw squared; he looked briefly away. “It should never have been auctioned. I was remiss in my duties.”
He was pissed at himself, clearly. “Yeah, well, to err is . . .” Human. “Natural,” she finished, and bit back a stupid, nervous laugh.
“It was childish of me,” he said in a low, terse voice. “I was furious with my family for leaving. I should have overseen the sale of the property. Instead, I left it to James. But it was not his responsibility.”
“James?”
“The auctioneer.” He sighed, bowed his head and pressed his fingertips to his eyes. “We were fortunate,” he said finally. When he lifted his head, the look on his face made her breath catch. There was a world of wonder in his look. “You truly are a Null,” he said softly. “Had you not been there . . . but you were.”
“I . . . don’t know what I did.”
His smile was swift. “Raw talent.”
“So you guys don’t have the lock on magic, just to be clear. You, the other . . . four Tribes.” What were the four? She had so many freaking questions. And tomorrow, maybe, she’d look back on this and believe none of it. She felt still as if she were in a dream.
“There have always been exceptions among your people,” he told her.
“And the orb . . .”
He withdrew it from his jacket. It looked like plain glass now. But earlier, it had pulsed for her . . . it had spoken somehow.
No, she wouldn’t mistake this for a dream tomorrow. She had seen it all clearly tonight. There was no doubting her eyes.
“An index of the four elements,” he said.
“Which are? Wait, let me guess—earth, fire, water . . .”
“And air.”
“And this one is . . . what?”
“This orb is the index,” he said. “This orb keys to light. Light is always the root of the four. And your mother’s husband—”
“Ex-husband.”
“—had no understanding of that.” He gently returned the orb into his jacket pocket. “The heat spell should end now.”
So it was all over? The strength of her disappointment rattled her. She felt . . . like she’d finally woken up. But it was over. “Right. Guess you’ve got to be going. Get this all written down, for history’s sake.”
“Yes.” He paused, studying her. “As I said before . . . I could use your assistance.”
Her breath caught. Was that uncertainty in his voice?
Did he think for a moment she’d turn him down? Her entire reality had just been upended.
Why, for years now she had felt . . . jaded. Bleak. Tired of life, strung out on disappointments.
But it turned out she knew nothing of the world. Who knew what possibilities existed that she couldn’t even dream?
Her mother had said as much to her, so many times.
“God,” she said, realization thumping through her. “I need to talk with my mom.”
“Of course.” He took a long breath, gathered himself to rise. “Perhaps, in a few days—”
“No, wait!” She caught him by the wrist and pulled him back down. Pangaea could wait a hot second. She’d certainly kept Kate out of the loop long enough. What else had Pangaea been holding out on, apart from elves and fairies and witchcraft? Why hadn’t she shared any of the details?
I never would have believed her.
Kate sighed. Yeah, that was going to be some mother-daughter conversation, all right. She might even owe an apology.
The prospect punctured her mood. She slumped a little. She felt suddenly overwhelmed.
North touched her arm. The lightest touch, but it sang through her like a tuning fork, bringing her straight again, electrically aware of him. “You all right?” he asked.
“It’s a lot.”
He nodded. And then his cool hand was slipping around, hooking under her chin, tilting her face up to his. His eyes, dark as pitch, swallowed her.
But as she looked into them, she felt . . . found, somehow. Steadied. Like that moment yesterday in the redwood grove.
“It’s a beginning, Kate.”
Wonder prickled through her. “Yes,” she whispered.
His face got closer, and closer yet.
“This is a bad time,” he murmured. “I should leave you alone.”
“No.” That breathy denial came from her. “It’s a great time.”
That current between them intensified, snagging all her senses, magnifying them until the rest of the world fell away.
Then his lips were on hers.
For a moment all her wonder seemed to swell and concentrate in the magnificence of the kiss, his mouth moving on hers like a spell. It was better, so much hotter, than she’d imagined.
It was too good.
She yanked free. “This is magic, too, isn’t it? You’ve been enchanting me!”
His laugh was low and husky. “Not magic.” The pad of his thumb stroked over her cheek. “Just . . . us. Gods save me.”
Her throat knotted. She didn’t know whether to believe him. Or what to say.
Wait, but she did know. “Are you allowed to date humans?”
His smile was the most beautiful sight she’d ever witnessed. “If we weren’t,” he said, “I’d like to know how the Sidhe got started.”
That sounded like an inside joke. But she gathered he meant there wasn’t a rule against intertribal romance. “Oh. Okay. So, um . . .” She felt herself redden beneath the intensity of his gaze. Clearing her throat, she looked away, searching for composure. “If you’ve got any books I could borrow about this tribal stuff, that would be great.” She needed to catch up, fast, if she was going to go steady with an elf. Or a fairy. Or whatever he was. He hadn’t actually clarified that yet. That seemed like a good place to start.
“Of course,” he said. “But I would also be glad to answer any questions you have.”
She nodded. “You know, I’m a PhD student . . . or I will be. We like to do our own research. And . . . it seems like a bad idea, a student and teacher dating, you know?”
Dating. She’d said it. She had no intention of going home with him tonight. One-night stands had never been her thing. But was he the dating kind? Whatever he was.