"Shay, I have to ask you, the day Murdock and I came by to ask Robin to help, you two were arguing. Why?"
Shay shifted uncomfortably on the bench. "We had a complicated relationship. Robin thought I was leaving him."
"Were you?"
"No!" he said forcefully. "He only thought that because… because there's something wrong with me. I have blackouts. He thinks — thought — I was lying to cover up an affair."
"Have you seen a doctor?"
He gave me an exasperated look. "I don't exactly have insurance, Connor. The episodes started the end of last year and have been worse recendy. I'm hoping they'll just go away. I don't have much other choice."
I can imagine how he felt. At least the Guild still picked up the tab on my health care. I couldn't afford it otherwise. "I'm sorry. You have a lot going on."
He shrugged. "Yeah, well, life does that to you."
Corcan came running back. From a few feet away, he tossed the ball, and it dribbled to our feet. Shay picked it up and tossed it again. Corcan didn't turn, but looked at me curiously. "Is this a new friend, Shay-shay?"
Shay took a long moment before deciding to answer him. "Say hello to Connor, Corky."
The big man trotted forward and extended a big meaty hand. I fought the desire to pull away, not wanting to touch him. I did shake his hand though, inhaling so sharply my nostrils must have closed. I still couldn't smell a damned thing. "Hello, Connor. Are you taking us to the Castle?" He spoke as though his tongue were too thick for his mouth.
"No, Corky," said Shay. "I told you that's the day after tomorrow. Two more days. Go get the ball, honey." He ambled off like a big bald retriever.
"We're going to watch the Midsummer fireworks from Castle Island," Shay said.
"How long have you known him?"
"Since last summer. He's afraid of most people, but he likes me. The staff thinks it's because I'm male but look female. On a certain level, he relates his own condition to me."
"He looks a lot like the police sketch you helped develop."
Shay's chin shrank back in surprise. He watched Corky running around for a moment before answering. "No. He doesn't. Connor, look at that group of kids over there." He pointed over my shoulder to a small group holding hands and dancing. They all had vaguely similar features that marked them with Down's syndrome.
I looked back at Shay. "Your point?"
"Now, without looking back, tell me their ages and how they look different from each other."
I didn't speak. The urge to look again was compelling.
"Let me help you," said Shay. "At a glance, only three of those kids have Down's, though I'm betting you think they all do. Two of them have a different genetic physical retardation. Their ages range over fifteen years. One of the two with thick sideburns is actually female. Now, before I knock you over the head, what the hell do you think you're implying about Corky?"
I'll give this to Shay. I had a foot and half in height and more than fifty pounds in weight on him, and the kid still had the balls to threaten me physically. It didn't mean I was amused. "Look, Shay, the only thing keeping you out of jail at this point is the fact that I haven't put in a call to Murdock, so knock off the attitude. Now, tell me about the pentagrams." He crossed his arms again and threw himself back against the bench.
He looked at me suspiciously. "Corky's pentagrams? They're for meditation." He considered for a moment and nodded. "I added them one at a time. The first one was about a month ago." A chalky pallor swept over his face. "Oh my God, Connor! It's not what you think."
"What do I think?"
"Corky wouldn't hurt anyone. I just showed him how to calm himself when he was upset. I don't have any fey ability — I couldn't even get aromatherapy to work on Robin. Corky doesn't even go out at night! He's afraid of the dark!"
"You might have activated something, Shay. Cross-species children have all kinds of mutations. You might not have been calming him."
Shay's hands flew to his mouth as tears sprang to his eyes. "No. It can't be. Tell me Robin isn't dead because of me!"
I couldn't help myself. I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder to reassure him. "I'm not going to lie to you, Shay. I don't know."
"What's the matter, Shay-shay?" Corky said, popping up in front of us. His face looked stricken.
Shay brushed the tears off his own face. "It's nothing, Corky. Something got in my eyes."
The big man grabbed his hand. "Let's go to the Castle. That will make your eyes better."
Shay forced himself to smile. "Thursday. We'll go then. Okay, Cork?"
Corky pouted. "Okay."
He let Corky pull him off the bench, and as Corky led him away, Shay looked back at me, hurt and confusion flickering in his eyes. Back on Ninth Street, I slipped into a cab and asked the driver to take me to Avalon Memorial. Fresh cash in my pocket tended to make me lazy. I had to see Gillen Yor. If anyone knew the effects a mixed essence had on spells, he would. I had to agree with Shay, though. Something as simple as meditation could not possibly go that haywire.
I stared unseeingly out me window. If he hadn't already, I'm sure Murdock's brother Bar would tell him I was at the Institute. He was going to want to know why. With another link to Shay, Murdock would lock him up in a second. He would have every reason to do it. I would have in his shoes.
Shay's continuing involvement had to be more than coincidence. He'd attempted things he did not have the ability to perform. Given his blackouts, he might not even have known what the hell he was doing. I had to wonder if the whole mess was a result of an accident on his part, an accident he didn't even know he had caused. But I couldn't find any convincing evidence. The sad little room he shared with Robin held no trace of powers being worked. As Shay admitted, even the pathetic parlor tricks he had tried with wards were useless.
I felt a light touch on my forehead, like someone had placed a cool fingertip just above the bridge of my nose. If anyone had been there to see, they would not have noticed any reaction on my part, so subtle was the sensation. I was about to receive a sending, a true sending that no glow bee could hope to imitate. From experience, only one person contacted me so gently. As the cab made its way over the Broadway Bridge, Briallen's voice filled my head with sound.
I need to see you immediately.
I waited to see if there was more, but the cool feeling slipped away. Sendings were wonderfully convenient and precise, but they worked best if kept simple. I tapped on the scarred plastic partition and changed my destination. As I got out on Louisburg Square, I tipped the driver generously to make up for the loss of the longer fare to Avalon Memorial. I didn't knock. The house felt empty. I paused by the newel post at the foot of the stairs, my skin alive with tension. Just as I set foot on the first step, I heard Briallen call from the back of the house.
With a sigh of relief, I relaxed and made my way through the kitchen to the back door. Briallen sat on the edge of her fountain, wearing a black swaddle of fabric that was too shapeless to call a dress. The fountain's spray was off, giving the backyard an uncommon stillness. Briallen lifted her head and smiled when she saw me, reaching out a beckoning hand.
"That was fast," she said.
"I was halfway here."
I took her hand and sat next to her. She looked much better than the last time I saw her. Placing her hands on my head, she looked directly into my face. I felt the usual pressure. As she released me, her brow creased for just a moment, and she touched me once more briefly.
"What is it?"
She shook her head. "I thought I sensed something, but it's gone now. The darkness felt, I don't know, smoother."
"I did the sun invocation with Joe yesterday. It made the headache go away for a while."
"Yes, he told me."
I raised an eyebrow. "And what else did he tell you?"
"That you're investigating blood rituals and won't listen to reason."
I took a deep breath and released it slowly. "I didn't come he
re for a lecture."
"You're not getting one."
"Oh. Good. Then maybe you can help me. What do you know about The Brown Book of Cenchos?"
She wrinkled her nose. "Not that old thing."
"Why would macDuin be interested in it?"
"I don't know. Why do people collect clown figurines?"
"Briallen, I'm serious."
She shrugged. "Connor, it's apocryphal. It makes no sense. There are spells in it that claim to do things they would never do."
"Like maybe something that looks like a meditation ritual can actually send someone on a murderous rampage?"
"Well… not that clear-cut. It's more like explaining gravity by denying its existence."
I thought about it. "I don't get it."
She nodded. "Exactly."
"Okay, let me take it from a different angle. How could a simple meditation ritual have the opposite effect?"
"I don't know. Maybe you need to see something." She twisted slightly on the edge of the fountain and waved her hand gently above the water as though she were caressing it.
"Briallen, scrying splits my head open."
"Yes, yes, I know. I'll take care of it."
She held her other hand up toward me and began to chant. My body shields activated, not from an instinctual response to danger but merely from her command. I shivered. No one had ever done that to me before. With an ache of remembrance, I felt my fragmentary shields pulse with life again as their edges flowed out to meet each other. Seamlessly, they joined over the entire surface of my body as they once had, an invisible layer of armor to defend against unwarranted intrusions. It caused me no pain since it was not of my doing. Except for the small part of my own essence in the fragments, the protections were all of Briallen's power.
All the while, Briallen continued setting up the scry. Even when you were fey and could do things humans couldn't, watching Briallen work was both awe-inspiring and humbling. She needed no accoutrements, only the raw power of her concentration and her knowledge of invocations. Even as she worked my shields, her hand smoothed the water of the fountain to an unnatural stillness. Once I was fully warded, the cadence of her chant shifted into an older Gaelic, its rough sounds oddly soothing from her lips.
She spread both hands over the water. The surface reflected the dull haze of the sky. The image shimmered jarringly as though someone had tapped the edge of the fountain. A curling wisp of gray smoke rippled on the edge, eating at the reflection of the sky until the entire visual surface pulsed with shadows of mists just beneath the still water's surface. With hands spread wide, Briallen did not move at all, her taut form leaning forward. Her eyes shone whitely as she increased the urgency of the chant. Something seemed to roll sensuously beneath the surface, pale green, men silver and white.
I let my gaze flicker to Briallen. Beads of sweat clung to her face. She was pushing hard at the invocation. Even someone with rudimentary ability would have lifted the veil of smoke by then and caught a glimpse of the future. The real skill came in the clarity of the vision. Some could only get the most obscure hints and symbols, while someone like Briallen could see events almost like watching a movie. But after over twenty minutes of intense chanting, still nothing happened. Something was seriously wrong.
A thick unsettling blot of darkness formed in the middle of the fountain. It deepened and spread outward like a giant pupil. Nothing appeared in the inky depths. The blackness enveloped the whole of the fountain, a darkness so deep and complete that not even our reflections marred its surface.
With a gasp of frustration, Briallen pulled herself up and away. She stood with her head bowed, one hand to her face, the other hovering over me like a benediction.
"Briallen…"
She lifted her head. "Go inside. I need to close it."
There was no discussion in her voice. I hurried into the kitchen, uneasiness creeping into my gut. As I stepped inside, I could feel her release the protections on me. I flinched at the sudden stab of pain in my forehead and moved away from the door. The pain lessened, but not much. Scrying had the worst effect of anything on me. I kept moving back into the house until I was in the foyer. I could still feel a hot needle-like pinging, but I refused to go out into the street. I sat on the bottom step of the stairs and held my head, trying to will away the pain. After an eternity, it subsided, and I looked up to see Briallen standing over me. She had a solemn, yet wild, look on her face. Her skin was very pale and damp, and her short hair hung in wet strands.
"You're soaked."
"It was necessary. Let's go up." She passed me smoothly onto the stairs, and I followed her into the sitting room on the second floor. She stood before the small blue flames on the hearth, her back straight and arms at her sides. "It's been like that for days," she said without turning.
"What is it?"
She moved to an armchair and sat. "That's the million-dollar question. The Queen asked me to answer it."
"Maeve?" I couldn't help the surprise in my voice.
"Of course, Maeve. She called me this morning."
"She called you? On the phone?"
She frowned. "Yes, on the phone. What's wrong with you?"
I laughed. "I just find it incredibly funny that the High Queen of Tara called you on the phone."
"What did you want her to do, send smoke signals? We've known each other for years. She's calling everyone she can."
I lowered myself into the armchair opposite her. "What's wrong?"
She shifted the damp folds of her dress away from her knees. "The future is closed. No one's been able to pierce the veil. A turning point in time. What we do not know, what we cannot see, we cannot try to change. It must play itself out the way it will."
I'd never heard of the future being "closed" before. "It's a bad thing?"
Briallen looked down into the flames. "That's not the question. It's a question of understanding. We have to prepare, if we can, for what may come. The last time something like this occurred, Convergence happened."
I fell back in the chair, too stunned to say anything. "Are you kidding me? How long has this been going on?"
"I've been hearing rumor of strange happenings for weeks. It's why I haven't been as helpful to you as I could have been."
I leaned forward in the chair. "Don't be ridiculous, Briallen. I'm not that self-involved. I may be bitching about the lack of attention the Guild is giving these murders, but I think you might be a little better recognizing priorities than they are. What do you need me to do?"
She moved her hand from beneath her robe and held out a dagger in an old leather sheath bound with thongs of leather. "I need you to stay alive."
I took the dagger from her. Finely wrought silver wound about the pommel, and the handguards were plated in gold. The whole of it was encrusted with fine rubies and crystals and a large emerald at the base of the hilt. I slid the blade slightly from the sheath. It was double-edged, inscribed with tiny runes, and shone with new silver brightness. The sheath itself was stamped with more runes and symbols and blotched with stains that I just knew were blood. It weighed more than I would have guessed, but still had a nice balance in the hand. And the damned little thing hummed with power.
"I can't accept this, Briallen."
"You must. What's coming is cataclysmic, Connor. I won't have you unprotected."
"But this must be worth a fortune!"
She shrugged. "What's a fortune weighed against a life? It's old, I'll grant you. Several people have possessed it. Now you will."
"I'll take it on one condition."
I meant it conversationally, just as a preface, really, but Briallen sat very still, like she was considering whether she would accept a condition. "What?"
"That you'll take it back when I don't need it anymore."
A mysterious look passed over her face, at once surprised and resigned. "I'll accept that. Put it on."
I gave her an odd look as I removed my right boot. Briallen can be downright pushy so
metimes, but it never paid to disobey. I lashed the sheath around my ankle and put the boot back on. After a few wiggling adjustments, I felt I could live with it. I had to take my regular knife out of its boot sheath, though, and slip it bare into my left boot. Not the safest position, but I would figure it out later.
"Use it with care," she said. "It has some powerful wards, and I've put a few of my own niceties on it, too."
"I will. So what exactly does Maeve want you to do?"
"Learn what lean. Scrying obviously isn't working. I'm going to try some dream prophecy."
Not surprised, I nodded. Imbas forosnai. The ancient ritual of dream and prophecy was the only logical course when scrying didn't work. Now I knew why Briallen had summoned me. She would be in a deep trance for days. And she would be vulnerable. "You want me to stand guard while you sleep."
"Yes and no. I don't know what may happen, but I doubt you're strong enough to stop it. There are very few people who could protect me better than myself, and they're all busy working on this right now. I need you to awaken me."
"So I'm useful because I'm powerless."
She rolled her eyes. "You're useful because no one would expect I would use you. Unexpectedness has its own power. No one must know about you. I haven't even told Maeve."
Maeve, the Bitch of Tara, Ice Queen and Iron Ruler. Just as many people fear her as love her. Enclosed in a girdle of mist on the hill of Tara in Ireland, no one passes into her keep-or her presence-without consent. And she just phones up friends of mine when she needs help. "What's she like?"
Briallen steepled her hands at her lips. "Strong. Of all the queens, I think she's probably the most beautiful, but I'm sure others would have their own opinion. Her hair is like ebony, and her skin is alabaster. She can be as cold as drawn steel and never lets her guard down. People curse her, but the fey are lucky she was the ascendant queen when Convergence happened. This world would have descended into chaos without her leadership. She may be harsh, but she's kept things from falling apart."
"If only she cared about all the fey as much as the monarchy," I said.
Briallen shrugged. "That's a matter of opinion. If she can finally defuse the German situation and end the Teutonic-Seelie stalemate, the entire world will be better off. Humans may fear nuclear weapons, but I'm more worried about an all-out fey war. Suffice it to say she's got a lot on her plate."
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