Svein rose and came around to where I stood by the door. He encircled me with one arm and I leaned against him as he walked me around the Archives office’s desk and settled me into the chair. I fell back and blinked my eyes very, very slowly.
Svein perched on the desk and regarded me. “Where did Avery go?” he asked softly.
I shrugged. “Don’t know. He has a TV show in New York tomorrow night. Probably got an earlier flight to get as far away from me as he could.”
“Is he coming back?”
I didn’t want to say the words, give them validity. “I don’t know.”
He reached over and took my hands in his. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I have to ask. Is there a chance that he’ll…”
I set my jaw. “You’re going to ask, is there a chance that he’ll tell the world that faeries are real and that he just realized his girlfriend is one?” I tasted the bitterness of my own laugh. “No. The last thing he wants to do is sink his campaign by appearing mentally unstable. No matter what he’s thinking about me, what he’s feeling, it’s his secret, at least for now.” I narrowed my eyes. “So don’t worry. I haven’t given us all up.”
“I’m not worried,” he said.
I let my head flop back. “Why did I do this?” I asked the ceiling. “Why?”
“You know why.”
“I’m an idiot. When did I start being an idiot?” I closed my eyes, then raised my brows, smiling mirthlessly. “Oh, yes, that’s it. The dream. The goddamn dream where all my teeth fall out. That was it. That’s how it always starts. I should have left town that night, just gotten the hell away from my life so that fate wouldn’t step in to fuck it all up the way it always does after the dream. But you know what? I fooled myself into thinking that it would be okay this time, and then Frederica showed up and my mother told me the truth and I transformed. Right here, in fact.” I popped my eyes open and sat up straight, yanking my hands away from Svein’s and staring poison daggers at him. “Then you. What’s your deal, anyway? One minute you think I’m a screw-up who should have never been recruited, and the next minute you’re shoving your tongue down my throat. You like me, you don’t like me. Which is it, already? I’m sick of tap-dancing around innuendoes. Let’s get this out in the open for a change.”
Svein met my gaze, daggers notwithstanding. “It’s not a matter of liking or not liking you. It’s not on that level.”
“Yes, please,” I said. “Be enigmatic and obtuse. Because that’s going to really help me right now.”
In an instant, he was off the desktop and leaning over me, his face very, very close to mine. His breath whispered against my cheek. “Regardless of what you might think,” he said softly, “my feelings where you’re concerned are hardly black or white. Tonight is not the time to dissect them. Let it go.”
I grabbed the back of his neck and crushed my lips to his. I twisted my fingers into his hair as I persuaded him with my lips to part his and I pushed my tongue inside his mouth, tasting him, trying to feel anything, anything, to make me forget. Forget about Avery.
But I couldn’t.
I pulled away and dropped back into the chair, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I just—sorry.”
Svein searched my eyes with his. “I understand.”
“How could you when I don’t?”
“You’re here,” he said, resettling himself on the desktop, “because I’m the one man who knows what you are, both sides of you, and accepts you. I understand you, and that’s what you need right now. You kissed me because you’d rather believe you deliberately drove Avery away than believe he left you because of who you are and what you can’t control.”
I sighed. “I didn’t even think of going anywhere else. It’s not like I couldn’t go to my mother’s. I didn’t want to be at home all alone. I waited two hours and he’s not coming back tonight. I just came straight here. I wasn’t even thinking.”
I rubbed my face. “You’re my mentor. Mentor me. Give me some wise answers so I can fix this.”
“You don’t need a mentor anymore,” he said with a small smile. “And all I want to give you right now is something that will complicate things a whole lot more.”
He stood. “There’s a sleep room down the hall. It’s for shift-working fae who need to crash. I don’t think anyone’s in there tonight.”
“Are you saying you want us to go in there and complicate things?”
He looked at me for a long moment. “I won’t take advantage of you tonight. You deserve far better. I’m saying you should go in there and get some rest. I’m going to hang around for a little while to get some work done. I’m on call. You’ll be okay. It’s across the hall, third door down.”
I stood but once at the door, I lingered.
“Go,” he said. “I’m noble, and I’m strong. But you have a habit of pushing me to my limit. You need to sleep.”
I nodded, and my neck was having a hard time holding my heavy head upright. I left the office, closed the door behind me and headed for a bed and a temporary respite from the quick mess my life had become.
>=<
Grab the teeth, don’t lose them, you have to get them…
“No,” I said, my tongue thick. “No.” I crouched among freshly lost, bloody teeth, and they cracked under my shoes.
Don’t lose them, don’t lose them…
“Shut up!” I yelled at the laughing voices, melodic voices...
“Gemma…”
“Shut up! I can’t do it!”
“Gemma.”
I awakened with a gasp, and Reese pulled her small hand away from me as she stepped back, startled. “Gemma, I’m sorry.”
The room was pure white—walls, sheets, pillowcases, small wooden dresser that held a bunch of thin wooden reeds in a watery glass bottle. The bedspread was fluffiness that was six inches high. A small nightlight burned a rosy glow. My rapid breathing seemed out of place in the tranquil fae room, and I slowed it down, bit by bit. I knew I had been dreaming, but I touched my mouth anyway, pushing my teeth a little to make sure they were intact.
“Svein said you were sleeping in here,” Reese said.
Svein. Oh God, Avery.
I flopped back on a pillow so buoyant it rebounded me nearly all the way back up. My head ached, and my eyes felt twice their normal size and very dry. It took me a moment to realize they were the side effects of a long cry, something I wasn’t accustomed to.
“I’m really sorry,” Reese repeated. “I should have just let you sleep.”
“No,” I told her. “It’s okay. I was having a nightmare, but you had no way of knowing that I’ve awakened to an even bigger one.”
Reese’s face was full of sympathy, and I wondered how much she’d figured out on her own, merely because I was spending the night at The Root. She had never been anything but friendly and helpful to me, and I felt bad that she was now standing in the line of my emotional fire.
But despite my grim demeanor, she sat down on the bed beside me, and her diminutive weight barely made a dent on the blanket. “I brought you something,” she said, and held out a little pink velvet pouch, tied with a drawstring. She watched my face, and though I didn’t reach out to take it, I summoned up a small polite smile for her, and she took it as permission to continue. “Vikings believed that anything belonging to children was powerful and lucky. Of course,” she added, “we know that their teeth are, and we know why. Maybe it was a Viking fae collector who started the tradition, but men heading into battle would often wear or carry a child’s tooth, for strength.”
She dropped her hands into her lap and watched her own tiny fingers turn the pouch over and over. “I’m sure you don’t need luck, but I thought a little extra power couldn’t hurt.” She grinned into her lap. “I collected yesterday from two kids right next door to each other. One kid’s tooth fell out, and the other one had his own loose tooth and was jealous or something, and they tied a string around it and yanked it out so
they could both have a tooth faerie visit. This is the one that fell out naturally. I told Research and Retrieval I lost it, but I kept it for you.”
She sighed, and her expression sobered. “I don’t know the exact reason why you slept here last night, but I can tell this has all been very hard on you. I feel so awful about that, and responsible, because I’m one of the ones you’re fighting for. And in case no one’s told you, we do appreciate it.” She looked at me, and her eyes were bright. “I appreciate it. The idea that I can help you means everything to me. That night, when you called me from Watergate, I was—I was honored to help you.”
I reached out my hand, and Reese deposited the pouch into my palm. My skin tingled and my nose tickled at the nearness of the essence. “Thank you.” My voice was raspy, and I cleared my throat. “But I think I may have already won the battle with Dr. Clayton.”
Wistfulness played around the edges of her smile. “Then you might want to have it for another battle. Sometimes the most difficult wars to win are the ones we wage within ourselves. A little help can go a long way.”
I closed my hand around the tooth. “I promised myself I wouldn’t let the fae down,” I said. “You’ve put your trust in me. But why? What makes anyone so sure I can take on such a monumental role when all I ever manage to do, even now, is screw up?”
“Because you’re not taking on the role,” she said. “You are the role. There’s no thinking about it. It just is. You just are. Isn’t it a relief to know that you only have to be you and you’ll be perfect?”
“Is that what you do? You go around every day assured that you’re perfect?”
Reese thought a second, then burst out laughing. “No, I guess I don’t. I feel like I’m screwing up every minute too. It’s easier advice to give than to live, I suppose.”
“Well, how about this?” I suggested. “Every now and then, I’ll remind you you’re perfect. But you have to do the same for me.”
“Will do,” she said. “I promise. And I’m going to give you a hug.” She leaned over and wrapped her thin, warm arms around me, and I couldn’t stop a few tears from appearing and dripping onto her shoulder. I wanted to apologize but I thought that would make me cry harder. I clutched my little tooth pouch.
“Don’t worry, Gemma,” Reese said, giving me an extra squeeze. “Faerie tales can have really happy endings.”
“Not faerie,” I mumbled into her shirt. “Fae.”
>=<
It was early for most people on a Saturday morning at Smiley’s Gym. At 9:20 a.m., most of the regulars were still sleeping it off. In fact, that’s what I usually did. I nodded now at one of the two unfamiliar morning guys lingering by the ropes. I wrapped my hands, got my gloves on, and got down on the floor for knuckle pushups.
After thirty-six of them, a shadow fell over me. I didn’t glance up. “Thought I told you not to come back until next week,” Smiley said.
I said nothing until I hit sixty. Then I rolled back to sit on my knees. He raised his brows to acknowledge my turn to speak, and to imply I’d better have something good to say.
“I don’t bring my problems here,” I said. “But”—I swallowed hard—“Avery walked out on me last night. I can’t be at home right now. I need to work it out. Please, Smiley. I do remember I’m not supposed to be here. I won’t stay long.”
What I didn’t add was that Avery’s flight was at noon, and I hoped that if he hadn’t left last night, if he’d just gotten a room or stayed with a friend, he might seek me out, and he’d know I’d be here. At my safe house.
Smiley looked me over and nodded once. “Do what you need to do,” he said. He bent down and patted my shoulder gruffly. “If, uh, if you need anything.”
“I don’t,” I assured him, because I knew that love wasn’t something he wanted to give advice about.
“Bag’s free,” he said, and I got up.
“Thanks,” I said. “You won’t even know I’m here.”
“It’s okay. Here’s where you belong.”
He turned abruptly and I watched him go into his office. Strange that even though I was family here at the gym, and I’d recently acquired a magical extended family, I felt as though my heart had been abducted and dropped alone onto an uncharted island in the middle of Nowhere Ocean.
The heavy bag hung steady and unmoving. That was another thing about being here so early in the morning. Usually when I got my turn at the bag, it was still swaying and dented from the last boxer’s go. But today it was yet unbruised and untested, and it was mine. I needed the challenge and the comfort it offered.
I put up my gloves and bounced a little on my toes, trying to shake off the nightmares and the harsh morning light on the long walk here and the headache and the still-fuzzy vision. I rolled my neck one way, then the other way.
Avery, I thought. I pushed the thought away and it returned. Avery.
Fine. I brushed a lock of hair off my face with my forearm. I’d faced my fears in the ring before and fought through them. I could fight through this one too.
Avery.
I jabbed and landed hard. It wasn’t smart to start like this, not when I was so weak inside, but at the same time, there was a wild thing inside me that demanded to be set free. I jabbed, and jabbed, and jabbed, feeling the jolt of each hit run up the length of my arm until strength coiled strong and hot into my shoulders, and I unleashed a jab-cross. One-two. One-two.
Instead of switching sides, I kept power-punching with my dominant right, harder and harder with each hit. I didn’t want to properly condition. I had to release, and I had a lot to release. I hit and hit and hit until I had to scream and I did, packing weeks of agony and frustration and despair into one last punch, and my own shout reverberated around the dim room.
Breathing hard, I bent my knees and leaned over with my gloves on my thighs. My head hung and I watched one, two, three drops of my perspiration plunk to the floor. When I lifted my head, the two men I didn’t know were alternately staring at me, then at each other, no doubt wondering what I was really fighting. I glanced over at Smiley in his office and caught him watching me as well. When I nodded and held up a glove, he nodded back. But he didn’t go back to whatever he was doing. Instead, he looked at a spot behind me, and his expression grew cloudy and strange.
He saw something, or someone.
Avery?
“Gemma,” I heard behind me.
“Avery,” I said, and whirled.
No, not Avery.
Dad.
CHAPTER 21
We stood, silent and staring.
Behind the cracked glass of the wall clock, the second hand ticked with each movement. I heard the long space between each tick, and I wondered how many of those ticks there were in twenty-two years.
Twenty-two years.
He cleared his throat. “Might want to work your other side for a while. You worked the right pretty hard.” He offered a smile, and my small triumph was the wariness in its corners. “It looks good,” he said. “You look good.”
“You look old.”
He didn’t, really. His hair, which I remembered as blond as mine, had faded and thinned. He wore a long-sleeved Henley top that was definitely a few sizes larger, but his eyeglasses were smaller. He carried a black leather jacket over his arm. I didn’t want him to look like a nice person, to look like someone I’d smile at on the street. I wanted George Cross to look like the man I was supposed to hate.
He chuckled, softly and cautiously. “Fair enough. And anyway, I feel old.”
This moment was the one I’d anticipated for almost my whole life, even when it became clear to me that it would probably never happen. I’d choreographed and scripted the encounter to perfection, from my indignant one-liners right down to my dramatic turning and stalking away, leaving him abandoned and hurting. I had played it over and over in my mind, making a few minor tweaks here and there over the years. I knew the role inside and out, but now, I just couldn’t perform.
Instead, I was
forced to ad lib, and it wasn’t very original. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here,” Dad said, “because I know what’s going on with you.”
A few more seconds ticked by. “Well?” I said finally. “You want to clue me in?”
“They’ve got you,” he said. “You’re working for them.”
“Working for who?”
“The fae,” he said.
I blinked. “How would you know that? How would you know anything about me?”
“Smiley told me.”
“What?” I snapped my head around again, but Smiley had left his office for the ring, where the other two boxers shuffled around each other. I stepped closer to Dad to keep our conversation private, and I caught the scent of him, the scent of him tucking me in at night, a scent that I should never have remembered but I did.
I dropped an iron veil over my heart. “Smiley doesn’t know anything about the fae,” I said.
“No, he doesn’t. But he does know plenty about you. And when I called him the day before yesterday, he filled me in.”
“You called when?” But as the words left my lips, I suddenly realized that the check-in calls Smiley admitted to having with my Dad were not ancient history, that they were still a regular thing, that Dad was hovering on the edge of my life all this time.
“Smiley said you’re not sleeping, that you’re coming in here exhausted, you’re not acting like yourself, you’re picking fights and deliberately getting hurt, that strangers are coming in and out to see you. I knew,” he said. “I knew right away the fae had tracked you down and put you to work nights. But it can’t be more. Tell me you’re just collecting, and that it’s not more than that.”
“I’m not obligated to tell you what I ate for breakfast today, much less anything else.”
“If it had been left up to me,” he said, “then even now, you’d have no idea you were anything other than full human. Your mother agreed. That’s how I felt when you were born and that’s how I still feel. They shouldn’t be using you.”
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