Unbinding

by Eileen Wilks

  The sheets hadn’t been laundered, though. She shut off the light and climbed into bed. She slid over onto Nathan’s side and put her head on his pillow and breathed in deeply. She’d trance in a moment, in just a moment . . .

  * * *

  KAI woke to darkness, her heart pounding. Dell wanted her. Needed her. Dell needed her to come.

  She blinked, confused. Why would Dell send such a message? She knew Kai couldn’t come to her. But oh, the loneliness—it was like when Kai first found Dell. The chameleon had been desperately alone then and . . . oh. Dell must have been dreaming. A nightmare. Dell had those sometimes, and they usually involved that terrible time when she’d lost her mage and been hurled to Earth, alone. Maybe the nightmare had been stirred into life by their separation.

  Kai sat up, circling her up-drawn knees with her arms, and laid her head on her forearms. She ached still with the echoes of her familiar’s loneliness. And with her own. She told herself she wasn’t alone. Grandfather was here, and she had friends, people who cared . . . it didn’t help. Her mind had jumped onto the story wheel and was spinning tales of disaster. Those that had already occurred. Those that might be happening now, because she didn’t know what was going on with Nathan, did she? And those likely to happen soon because she didn’t know what to do, how to stop a god. The vastness of her inadequacy swamped her along with all those tomorrows stretching into the bleak ever-after.

  She turned her head to check out the time and grimaced. Four-thirty in the morning, the traditional time for despair. She ought to trance and put herself in-sleep, as she’d failed to do earlier, but she didn’t think she could. Not without help. She threw back the covers and got up.

  Long ago, when she’d had little control over her Gift and that little was lost entirely during thunderstorms, her grandfather had made her an herbal concoction that helped her put herself in sleep. She never used it anymore, but she still had some. She dug the little baggie out of her backpack, then pulled on yesterday’s jeans because she needed boiling water and a cup.

  The house was dark and quiet. Too dark for her eyes, so once she reached the great room and it wouldn’t disturb anyone, she tossed a mage light into the air. It bobbed along behind her, dimmer than a flashlight, but ample for avoiding bumping into couches and chairs.

  The kitchen was dark, too. It wasn’t empty. Kai stopped on the threshold.

  “I guess you can’t sleep, either.” Arjenie said. She wore a loose, belted robe and was holding a steaming mug of something. “Isen suggested I sleep here, and that sounded like a good idea, since I wasn’t looking forward to climbing into the bed that’s supposed to have Benedict in it. Want some tea? There’s water in the kettle.”

  Kai lifted the baggie. “I brought my own mix. It helps me put myself in sleep when my damned mind doesn’t want to let go.”

  Arjenie nodded in understanding. “It was bad dreams for me. You?”

  Kai moved to the stove. A cheery yellow teakettle sat on one burner. She checked, decided there was enough water, and turned the burner on. “I don’t know what I dreamed, but Dell had a nightmare.”

  “Um . . . you’re sure she was asleep?”

  “No, but it felt like other nightmares she’s had. They don’t come often, fortunately.” She took a mug out of the cupboard and emptied the herbal mixture into it.

  “Do you often share her dreams? And vice versa?”

  “Not often. Now and then one of us accidentally draws the other one in, which is confusing to the one who didn’t originate the dream. Chameleon dreams are very different from ours. But the nightmare . . . when that hits, she calls for me.” Normally Kai was close enough to wake Dell when that happened. Not now. Dell would have to deal with her nightmare loneliness when she really was alone. Was Nathan with her? She hoped so. Surely they could bring each other a little comfort. “Would it help to tell me about your dream?”

  “I don’t think so. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Kai nodded, understanding that very well.

  “Isen believes we’ll get him back. Benedict, I mean.” Her sigh was long and wistful. “It would be more reassuring if that wasn’t what he’s trained himself to believe.”

  “Trained himself?”

  Arjenie nodded. “That’s his coping mechanism. A long time ago he decided that the only way he could deal with putting his sons in danger—which he needs to do sometimes, you know, as Rho—was by believing they weren’t going to die. No matter what, he believes they’ll be okay. A while back I asked him how to do that, thinking it sounded better than my way of coping. He smiled as if he were horribly sad, yet amused at himself, too. ‘Practice,’ he told me. ‘I have had ample practice. And after all, I have been right every time except one.’”

  Cold fingers walked up Kai’s spine. “What do you mean? Benedict and Rule are alive.”

  “I guess you wouldn’t know. Isen used to have three sons.”

  Oh, shit. Shit. Kai turned away, feeling as if she might start crying over a tragedy she knew nothing about . . . except that Isen had experienced it. He knew what it was like when the worst happened.

  The teakettle was humming urgently the way it did just before the water reached a full boil. She turned off the burner before it could start shrieking and poured the hot water into the mug. She rested her hand over the mug and murmured a few words in Diné Bizaad, using her breath to empower the words and her flesh to direct them.

  Then she set a small plate on top of the mug to hold the heat in. It needed to steep awhile. “Your coping mechanism seems pretty effective.” Arjenie had been so bright and pulled-together all day. “I wish facts did for me what they do for you.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t talking about that. When things get really bad, I cope by falling apart.”

  “I haven’t seen you do that!”

  She cocked her head. “Now that you mention it, I guess I only did it once when you were around, and that was when Benedict was first taken. You were busy not falling apart, so you might not have noticed that I did. You’re very bolstering, you know.”

  Kai snorted. “Not today. Aside from that young man my Gift insisted on, I haven’t helped anyone.”

  “I didn’t mean on-purpose bolstering from using your Gift. It’s just the way you are, I think, though maybe you are that way because of your Gift. You don’t go around expecting things from people based on what you think they are or ought to be. A person is always a person to you, not a type. It’s very refreshing. Anyway, I fell apart three times today. No, three-and-a-half. The first time was when Benedict went missing, like I said. Then I just dissolved when they were carrying the injured people out of the federal building. The special agent did not know what to do, but José told him to give me a few minutes and I’d be okay. And I was, enough to keep going, anyway. Then when I went to bed tonight, I collapsed into tears like a popped balloon.”

  Kai had to know. “What was the half-fall-apart?”

  “That was at the zoo. I was too busy to come completely unglued, so I sniffled a lot and kept going. The point is, I can do it over and over. Lots of falling apart and getting back up again, because what else can you do but get up? Sometimes sooner, sometimes later, but unless you slit your throat, you’re going to end up on your feet again at some point. I figured that out after my mom died,” she said matter-of-factly.

  And that was the final thing—maybe the biggest thing—she and Arjenie had in common. They’d lost their mothers at about the same age. Kai had lost both parents in a car wreck and gone to live with her grandfather afterward. Arjenie’s father—a part-elf sidhe—was still living, but he’d never been part of her life. She’d ended up with her aunt and uncle.

  Kai could tell Arjenie things she didn’t normally speak of. “Usually seeing Grandfather strengthens me. He’s my rock. He’s also the proof that I can be okay even if the worst happens. Only this time,” she said very
low, “seeing him reminded me that the worst can happen.”

  “It can, but it hasn’t. You’re doing that peering into the future thing. I can tell because that’s what I’ve been doing, too, even though I know better. My four-in-the-morning glasses distort things every bit as much as my Pollyanna glasses. Maybe more. I don’t suppose you need to hear that,” Arjenie said with an apologetic smile, “but I can’t help pouring words all over everything. I mean well.”

  “I know that,” Kai said, and found she could smile again. “I wouldn’t call you bolstering. You’re . . . clear. All the way down. If I—shit.” Her phone was chiming back in the bedroom. That couldn’t be good news, not at this hour.

  It wasn’t.

  THIRTY

  MORGUES are quiet places at 5:10 in the morning. Kai’s athletic shoes made no sound on the stairs. Neither did José’s. The rest of the guards that Isen had insisted on sending waited in the public area on the first floor, but José refused to let her go anywhere without him. When she asked if he was going to start following her into the Ladies’, he hadn’t even smiled. After a pause he’d said, “Lily was attacked once in a public restroom.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” she’d told him.

  She didn’t mind his company here, though. Kai had never been to a morgue. The issue hadn’t arisen in her previous life, and the sidhe handled such things differently. She was glad she’d persuaded Arjenie not to come. Dyffaya might have stopped tossing around assassin’s fire for the moment, but he could start up again. Plus, Arjenie was still low on power after using it so much yesterday, while Kai was pretty much back at full strength. Kai’s ability to recharge so much faster than normal had come as a surprise after Dell used body magic on her the first time. She’d remade Kai’s torso according to the pattern she had—which was the one she’d used on herself. Inadvertently, Dell had changed Kai’s cells so that they sopped up magic much like the chameleon herself did.

  The attendant hadn’t come with them, but he had given directions: “At the foot of the stairs go left. Dr. Wilson’s office is two doors down.” When she and José reached the foot of the stairs, there was no left. She could go straight or turn right. She glanced at him, eyebrows lifted—and heard voices from the hall on the right.

  “Damned if I see the point in this,” the woman said. “There’s plenty of magic on her, but it’s not death magic. It’s not even a spell. You think I can’t handle a simple spell to detect magic?”

  “How the hell would I know?” That was Ackleford, irritated as usual. “You’re supposed to be good. Probably you are. I sure as hell can’t tell.”

  “Then why are we waiting around for some lying civilian—one who has some damn close ties to the case—”

  “Because I want my goddamn sidhe expert to have a look before Wilson starts cutting. You don’t have to wait. Go get your beauty sleep.”

  “You are one sexist son of a bitch, you know that?”

  “True,” Kai said coolly from the doorway. The office was small enough to be pretty full already, though it only held three people and the usual office stuff. Both special agents turned to look at her. “But he’s not stupid. That’s what people keep telling me, anyway, and I’m inclined to agree. You’re Special Agent Stockman?”

  The Unit agent was gaunt. Not just thin, but bony. Her hair was a dark, tidy cap threaded with a few strands of gray. Her thoughts were all sharp edges with a lot of crisp blues and greens, though a sullen red smoldered at their base. Resentment, maybe, or some other form of anger, but it was not a fresh emotion. Both the color and the place it originated suggested it came from some old wounding.

  Her face showed none of that. Sharp gray eyes lingered a moment on the dagger sheathed at Kai’s waist. “I am. And you’re the sidhe expert. Dressed for the part, didn’t you?”

  Kai smiled in a way that showed her teeth. “My name is Kai Tallman Michalski. The vest and dagger aren’t a costume.” She looked at the third person in the little office, who was sitting behind the desk. He wore scrubs and a name tag. “Dr. Wilson?” She moved forward and held out a hand. “You’re going to do the autopsy?”

  “So I was told.” He was sour, perhaps about the time, but he stood to shake her hand. “I can’t start until you do whatever it is you need to do, so I’d appreciate it if you could make it quick.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Dr. Wilson came out from behind his desk. “We’ve got her in Room B. I’ll show you.”

  As they left the little office, Karin Stockman saw José for the first time. “Who are you?”

  “José Alvarez. I’m guarding Ms. Michalski.”

  “Arjenie Fox had bodyguards at the zoo. They were all lupi.”

  “Yes, ma’am. So am I.”

  “Huh. I met one of your people down in Texas. He was okay.” With that, she headed down the hall after the doctor. Apparently she didn’t have a problem with having a lupus at her back.

  The surprising thing about the autopsy room was how much it looked like ones she’d seen on TV. She supposed television couldn’t get everything wrong. Kai started for the woman laid out on the shiny metal table.

  “Gloves!” the doctor called.

  She stopped. “I can’t. The charm I’ll use needs skin contact with both me and the body. Is that a problem?”

  “It’s a health hazard. No open wounds, so perhaps HIV isn’t an issue, but she could carry other toxins. I understand she vanished in a most mysterious way.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” Kai glanced at Ackleford for permission—which made Stockman’s lips tighten.

  “Go ahead,” Ackleford told her.

  Kai walked up to the table.

  Britta Valenzuela did not look like she was sleeping. Kai had yet to see a dead person who did. She was still wearing the clothes she’d been abducted in—chocolate trousers and an orange tuxedo-style shirt. No visible wounds, but the whites of her eyes looked a bit yellow.

  Her body had been found yesterday afternoon nearly fifty miles away. Pure luck, that; a man hiking in Corral Canyon, part of the Cleveland National Forest, had spotted it. At first no one realized that she was the missing person from Fagioli. A morgue attendant made the connection a couple hours ago and called the Bureau’s local office, which had passed the word to Ackleford. He’d called the Unit agent—it was her case now—and then he’d called Kai, asking her to meet them here.

  Which Special Agent Stockman did not appreciate, apparently.

  Kai dialed up her Gift and studied the body. There, yes. The faintest smudge of lavender clung to one temple, so faded and transparent she could barely see it even with her Gift on high. She dialed her Gift back to a normal level and dug in her pocket.

  The charm she pulled out looked like an ornate silver brooch with a large, clear crystal, cabochon-cut. She laid it on Britta’s forehead, keeping her fingers pressed to it while she whispered the phrase that woke it, then pulled her hand away.

  The crystal glowed brightly, then faded. It pulsed five more times before the glow died entirely. “I’m sorry,” Kai told the dead woman. “I have to lay this over your heart next.” She unbuttoned the orange shirt, opened it, and was glad to see that Britta’s bra was cut low enough that she wouldn’t have to take it off. Kai didn’t like touching the dead. It felt like an intrusion when they weren’t present to give permission.

  She laid the crystal between Britta’s breasts, activated it with a different phrase, and withdrew her hand. This time the crystal changed color, shifting to a warm brown threaded with thin red veins that formed two runes, the top one simple, the lower one complex. Kai bent, frowning. The simple rune she knew. The complex one was unfamiliar. She took her phone out of another pocket and took a close-up shot of it.

  When she straightened, she slipped both charm and phone back in their pockets and turned to Ackleford. “Britta had been beguiled or compelled pri
or to death. I can’t tell which—the beguilement or compulsion was broken when she died, and there’s only a tiny scrap still clinging to her flesh. That there’s any remaining at all suggests a lot of power was involved. There’s a lot of undifferentiated magic on her body, as Special Agent Stockman was saying when I arrived. In addition to that, someone has used body magic on her.”

  “I didn’t find any hint of a spell,” Stockman said sharply.

  “Body magic is more like a Gift than a spell. All elves possess it to some degree. They can’t all use it on others, but Dyffaya can.” At least he could three thousand years ago.

  Ackleford’s eyebrows snapped down. “Can body magic be used to kill?”

  “Oh, yes, but it probably didn’t this time. I don’t know what this body magic did, but according to my charm, it didn’t kill her.” The charm’s brown color indicated body magic had been used in the past week or so, while the two red runes indicated whether it was a fatal alteration—no, according to the simple rune—and what had been magically altered. That was covered by the complex rune, the one Kai didn’t know. “I may know what did, though it shouldn’t have, not this fast. Magic sickness.”

  “What in the world is that?” Dr. Wilson asked. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “You wouldn’t have. In extremely high-magic realms or high-magic areas with a realm, the level of ambient magic can be so high it makes some people deathly ill. Humans without a Gift are the most susceptible. The amount of undifferentiated magic on Britta and the yellowing of her eyes are typical of magic sickness. The problem is, I’m pretty sure she shouldn’t have died of it this fast.” Nathan had warned Kai about magic sickness, but she thought he’d said it took three or four weeks to kill. Was she remembering wrong? Maybe there were exceptions.

  The round little doctor was looking downright perky. “What would I look for that might confirm or disprove this?”