wyrd & fae 04 - glimmering girl

by L. K. Rigel

  “True love is a power,” Beverly said. “A superpower. I pity the fae for their general lack of it.” She was looking at Cissa.

  The lines on Max’s face darkened, and his shoulders hunched a bit more, but the fairy queen remained oblivious to her sister-in-law’s meaning.

  Poor Max, Lilith thought. I don’t want to be like Cissa. Life would be meaningless without my love for Cade.

  “Look at it this way.” Cissa brightened. “As your humanity dwindles and your fae nature blossoms, these feelings you treasure for my nephew will fade away. You won’t care. In no time at all you’ll be free.”

  “You call that a feature?” Lilith took hold of Mistcutter at its guard, her hand covering the twisting dragon design. She hadn’t truly appreciated before—being so caught up in the excitement of it all—how light the thing was, how easy to wield. “That won’t happen.”

  She handed the sword to Cade. Maybe this was what Velyn had been talking about. Maybe this was Cade’s chance to get it right this time, whatever it was.

  “No.” He spread his hands apart, refusing the blade, and shook his head. “No.”

  “It’s the only way.” As she pressed the mystical weapon against his chest, she felt her wings pop out and unfold and heard the admiring murmurs of the fairies who hadn’t yet seen them. “Do it, Cade. Please.”

  He nodded, as if in defeat, and accepted the sword. He asked Boadicea, “Any words?”

  “Not that I know of.” She had the decency to speak somberly.

  Lilith bent over to give him access. She felt her wings spread—and a tug of regret at the thought of losing them.

  Cade raised the sword—and as she closed her eyes, she heard it clatter to the floor.

  “I can’t,” he said. “I won’t. I love you. I won’t destroy part of what you are just to keep you bound to me. Life is unpredictable. No one knows anything. Well, no one knows everything. I believe we have to take the leap of faith—I don’t know—trust the high gods.”

  It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Without thinking, she retracted her wings. She had to admit they were less of a pain when she could control them.

  “We’ll figure it out.” Cade crushed her to his chest. He whispered in her ear, “We have all the time in the world.” And then his lips found hers and he kissed her, ignoring their audience.

  “Oh, how wonderful!” Glory said. “In all the excitement, I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Imagine that,” Goldy said drily. “But what do you mean?”

  Lilith broke off the kiss and looked at her mother. “What are you talking about?”

  “Look!” Glory made jazz hands and showered Lilith and Cade with a sparkling fanfare of multicolored fairy dust. “We haven’t had a baby to play with in ages.”

  “You don’t mean…” Lilith said. But she knew.

  “You’re pregnant, silly,” Morning Glory said. “It’s obvious.”

  Beverly and Cade frowned with skepticism… while every full fae in the room nodded knowingly and grinned.

  « Chapter 26 »

  A Simple Choice

  “This is all so wrong,” Cade had to pull the seat belt out as far as it would go to get it around Lilith’s expanded girth. “I should be snapping piccies of your baby bump. Instead I’m worried whether your water will break before we reach our hotel.”

  He’d wanted Lilith to stay at Faeview while he was in London, but she wasn’t having any of that. Besides, she was mad to get away from Moo and Glory’s hovering. So he’d booked a room at the Dorchester overlooking Hyde Park. He knew she liked it there.

  While he was at the board meeting this afternoon, fending off the Sarumen contingent, she was going to deliver Bausiney’s Abundance, the fairy cup, to the V&A for their new exhibition.

  The morning sky over Faeview was unseasonably clear, but for the drive to London he put the top up on the DB5. “The V&A isn’t ten minutes from Lowndes Street,” he told Lilith. “I’ll collect you after the meeting. We can have dinner back at the hotel or wherever you like.”

  “I missed everything when I was in London,” she said. “I’d love to go up in the Eye and see the city lights.”

  “Your wish is my command—if you don’t pop beforehand.” Cade started down the drive. “I’m trying to be cool about this, but you must admit it’s a bit terrifying.”

  “You’re probably right. Not a good idea to be stuck in a gigantic Ferris wheel when my water breaks.”

  How could she be so blasé? In ten weeks, Lilith’s transformation to fairy had slowed to nothing, but the baby was on the fast track. It was the first week in January, and she looked due to blow.

  Lilith touched his arm. “Is that Goldy in the peonies? What’s he doing?”

  The fairy was hovering on the side of the drive at the end of the peony bushes. The plants which had been cut back to nubs yesterday were now lush and green and loaded with flowers.

  Cade rolled the DB5 to a stop and put down the window.

  “Ta-da!” Goldy picked two fat blooms and handed them to Cade.

  “What’s all this?” Cade said and passed the flowers on to Lilith.

  “Beverly said you were going to town,” the fairy said. “I’ve brought you something for the trip—but then I saw these poor things, ugly as goblins and so lonely for flowers. Don’t you hate it when that happens?”

  “They’re lovely, Goldy. Thank you.” Lilith held the blooms to her face.

  A wave of affection washed over Cade, and he felt a twinge in his heart. He loved her so much.

  “Hats!” Goldy said, reaching into his long pouch. “Hats for London. I know how you love a hat, Cade. A leprechaun friend of mine made them.”

  He produced two hats, one far too big to have fit inside the pouch.

  “Thank you,” Cade said. “I think?”

  The black slouch for Lilith was great, but the dark violet bell crown topper didn't quite lend the aura of formidability required of his appearance at the Clad’s board meeting.

  “For the cold iron,” Goldy said, crossing his eyes at Cade and Lilith’s bewilderment. “To keep the headaches away.”

  “Ah! Now it all comes clear,” Cade said. “Great call—and Goldy, anytime you want to come up to the house, wander around, look at the pix in the rogue’s gallery, just come on in, yeah?”

  The fairy blushed and went silent.

  “I always felt sorry for my dad,” Cade said. “Mom was gone, and he was alone. But he wasn’t alone, was he? He had you. A part of James will always live in you, Goldy. And that’s wonderful.”

  Egad. He was on the verge of a jag.

  “This isn’t a tear.” Goldy sniffed. “The fae don’t cry.”

  “Of course not.” Cade put the engine in gear.

  “Ta, now.” The fairy wiped his eyes, touched his tether jewel, and popped out.

  Lilith was a good traveler, meaning she didn’t talk much, and Cade had the chance to collect his thoughts on the drive. This afternoon’s meeting was crucial. Duncan Edan had discovered even more bad news.

  The Sarumens still planned to push through the military contract at this afternoon’s board meeting. Bad enough. Worse, they had managed to gain control over forty-seven percent of the Clad’s shares against Cade’s forty-nine percent.

  The remaining four percent block of shares, though independently owned, had always been safe, always voted as the Bausineys voted. According to Duncan, that block had recently changed hands through inheritance. The new owner would be at the meeting today, but Duncan had no idea which way the man intended to vote.

  It was crucial Cade be at that meeting. At a quarter past noon, he pulled in to the Dorchester, right on time.

  “Are we there yet?” Lilith sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Did I fall asleep?”

  London was gray and a cold mist haunted the air, giving the cars’ headlights and taillights the look of dancing fairies. It was lovely, but Cade would always prefer the mist and rain of Dumnos.

&nbs
p; They left the DB5 in the Dorchester’s garage and took a cab together as far as the V&A. He helped Lilith’s gargantuan self out of the taxi, then handed her the box containing the cup.

  Arranging Goldy’s black slouch hat over her head, he said, “Shall I come in with you?” He couldn’t resist kissing her on the nose.

  “No need.” she said. “I’ll give the docent strict instructions on the deployment of salt and holy cakes, and then I’m going to tour the whole place until you come for me.”

  “Lilith…?”

  “Good lord, don’t you sound serious.”

  “I am. You know that if I’m successful today the shares will plummet.”

  “No doubt,” she said. “The markets love a military contract.”

  “It means we’ll be poor again. Do you mind?” The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. “You probably think I’m a terrible provider.”

  “You silly man.” She just laughed. “As long as I’m with you, Cade, I’m wealthy beyond my dreams. Besides, I was poor all my life. I have a feeling your idea of poverty will still be pretty posh to me.”

  “But the baby…”

  “Our child will be proud to have a hero for a father,” Lilith said. “Go get the Sarumens. They’re evil and must be destroyed. The well-being of all Dumnos is at stake.”

  St. Mary’s was a massive construct of concrete, glass, and steel. Despite the strange looks it drew, Cade kept the bell crown on his head, though he hardly noticed the pain in his head.

  Where is her room? Again he checked the hastily jotted note in his hand to be sure he was on the right floor.

  As he passed an open door he heard someone say, “Let’s put this… interesting hat in the cupboard.”

  There you are. “Not a good idea.” He entered the hospital room to find Lilith on the bed in a hospital gown, bare legs sticking out below a cotton gown.

  “No, don’t,” she said

  To no avail. The nurse was on a mission. “We don’t want any bad germs getting in on the action, do we?” She deftly whisked the offending hat away—and along with it Lilith’s protection against cold iron.

  “Ach!” Lilith’s low growl of pain expanded to a wail, the scream punctuated by an odd zipping, ripping sound.

  “Blimey,” the nurse said. “Did a bird just fly into the window?”

  “I don’t think so,” Cade checked the long crack that had formed in the glass, but there was no focal point of impact.

  “Hat…” Lilith squeezed his hand.

  “I don’t like…” The nurse still clutched the hat, but she seemed to have forgotten all about it as a new concern consumed her face. “I’ll be right back, dear.”

  Lilith glared daggers at her.

  The poor woman rubbed her own forehead. “I think I’ll get an aspirin for myself while I’m at it.”

  When the door closed, Cade said, “You gave her that headache, didn’t you?”

  “I know she’s just doing her job. I couldn’t stop myself,” Lilith said. “My head is killing me.”

  “Oh, your hat. I’ll go—”

  “No, don’t. I need you more than some stupid hat.”

  “Use mine.” He had to do something. He took his own hat off. “Sun and moon, that hurts.” The too-big, dark violet bell covered Lilith’s entire head and rested on the bridge of her nose. “Not working?”

  “Max says tether jewels work best for the person they’re made for. Maybe it’s the same with hats.”

  She grimaced and squeezed his hand. Hard.

  “A contraction?” he said. “I can’t bear it.”

  She laughed and grunted at the same time and held on to him, hugging his shoulder, wincing with the pain.

  Christ, I’m such a git. Lilith was the one who couldn’t bear it. Feeling his impotence, he could only whisper, “I love you.”

  She seemed to relax. She raised her face to him, and he kissed her forehead. Where was that doctor?

  “You left your meeting,” she said. “The Sarumens will win.”

  “Nothing’s more important to me than you. Don’t you know that?” Cade told her. “You’re the love and the light of my heart. The world means nothing if I can’t share it with you.”

  “Hello! Hello!” Glory popped in.

  “Great.” Lilith said flatly.

  “My poor darling girl!”

  “You told me fae births were painless.” Lilith glared at her mother.

  “They are. But you’re not in fae, are you?” The fairy reached into her hidey pouch and withdrew a gossamer scarf, so thin it looked made of a soap bubble. “Ooh!” She draped it over her head and spun up in the air. “Shiny!”

  “What is that?” Something stirred inside Cade, and he reached for the fabric. He had to touch it… to have it.

  “Oh. Right.” Glory floated over to Lilith and transferred the wondrous material to her daughter’s head.

  “Ahhh…” Lilith let out the most marvelous sigh of relief. The furrow between her eyebrows smoothed and faded.

  “It’s from Max,” Glory said. “He said to tell you it’s a small token of gratitude for what you did. You know, for Boadicea.”

  “My head… the headache is gone.”

  “Small token. Huh.” Glory pouted. “He never gives anyone glimmermist. Well. Except Cissa that one time. But he’ll give her anything.”

  “I feel better!” Lilith certainly sounded better. She reminded Cade of Madmartigan in Willow.

  “You shouldn’t fight so hard to keep your humanity.” Glory said. “I don’t understand you.”

  “I know.” Lilith smiled weakly. “I’ve let go of hoping that you will.”

  Something clicked in Cade’s brain. This was the crux of it. Glory didn’t understand her own daughter—as he didn’t understand his father.

  None of them would ever understand each other.

  It wasn’t that Morning Glory had let go of her humanity. She had never been human. And Dandelion had never even tried to be human.

  Despite appearances, they were intrinsically, fundamentally different to each other, human and fae.

  “It’s all right, Mom,” Lilith said. “It’s fine.”

  His darling wife was right. As usual. It was all right. Everything was fine, as is. He had to stop being angry with Dandelion for not being human. For not being James. Gods, he missed his father—his real father—so much. James would have been so thrilled to be a granddad.

  “Did you get something in your eye?” Morning Glory was staring at him quizzically.

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “But it’s better now.”

  “Oh… crap!” Lilith twisted in the bed as if a knifing pain had sliced through her hip and contraction wrenched her belly the opposite direction. She screamed again as the door opened and in filed doctor, nurses, orderlies, a rolling gurney…

  Everything was a muddle. The doctor wanted to do a C-section. Cade lobbied to go into the operating theater. Lilith’s hand was so small in his, so vulnerable. He couldn’t let go.

  “Let go, my lord,” the nurse said. “Let her go now.”

  “If it’s a boy, call him Ross,” Lilith said weakly. “If it’s a girl, Alexandra.”

  “You don’t know the child’s sex?” The nurse blinked.

  “There wasn’t time,” Cade said haplessly, confirming their parental incompetence.

  Lilith’s gurney rolled through the doors, and the nurse stopped him from going through. “Try not to worry. We’ll take good care of them both.”

  The doors swung shut.

  Step after relentless step, the medical team took her away from him. His love. His light. Then the hallway was empty. For minutes? An hour? He didn't know. He couldn’t make himself move away from the windowed door. Then the nurse was in the hall, coming toward him, all judgment wiped from her face, only compassion remaining.

  Lilith…

  The nurse led Cade to a private waiting room. “You’ll be all right here,” she said. “No one will bother you.” There was unbeara
ble kindness in her voice and in her soft pat on his shoulder when he sat down. “I’ll bring you a nice pot of tea.”

  Tea. She and Marion would get on.

  The thought of tea made Cade think of that morning at Faeview when Moo had drugged his tea to keep him away from Lilith. He’d fought for their love then, and he would again now. They were meant to be together.

  He wanted to be a good person. A good man. To play his part in the happiness of those he loved, and in the well-being of those he was responsible for. He avoided stupidity on principle and fought the good fights with gusto.

  But how could he fight this? He had no weapon against preeclampsia, or whatever the doctor had called it. To the center of his being, he felt his impotence. He closed his eyes against the world and ran his hands through his hair.

  “Brother Sun, Sister Moon, please,” he whispered. “Tell me what to do.”

  The door opened again. Gods, when will it end? He couldn’t talk with the nurse or accept her tea and sympathy. He kept his eyes shut. Maybe she’d go away.

  But she said nothing. Quite out of character. He looked up and started to stand. The man near the door raised his hand, and Cade sat back in his chair—not, he didn’t think, of his own free will.

  The man spread his hands, palms up, in a gesture of offering.

  Cade felt something in his own hands and looked down. “Good lord. But where…?”

  The man explained everything. Or it seemed he did. In the blink of an eye, Cade knew all.

  And the man was gone. No one else was in the room, and when Cade looked down again at what he was holding, he couldn’t hold back the tears.

  “Lilith.” Through body-wracking sobs, he kept saying her name, like a prayer, and like a plea. “Lilith…”

  « Chapter 27 »