“Except you don’t let them bring anything more than handguns in,” I said.
She waved a dismissive hand. “They know that’s common sense. They saw what happened when their National Guard came in with tanks. I’ve kept the neighborhood calm, and that’s what they want.”
“Is that why your people are keeping the fey away from the police?”
Curious, she cocked her head. “How do you mean?”
“I’ve witnessed your guards either refusing to help the police or keeping other fey from helping them,” I said.
“I gave no such order. In fact, quite the opposite,” she said.
Brokke shuffled through his documents. “In life, I find, Your Royal Highness, not everything—or everyone—is who they appear to be. One must look beneath the surface to understand the depths.”
Eorla pursed her lips as she tapped her foot. “I see. Donor has been secretly moving his men into the city. A few have attempted to infiltrate our operations. Perhaps you have met some?”
“He’s trying to discredit you?” I asked.
She smoothed her long skirt down her leg. “Of course. I know he has been working with the humans. My sources tell me he has been trying to make a side agreement against me with the Guild.”
“I’ve heard that, too. I guess your attempts at getting the Consortium and the Guild to work together are working,” I said.
To Brokke’s annoyance, Eorla laughed. “I suppose this is an example of that phrase ‘be careful what you wish for.’ He’s been exploiting the fears and suspicions among the people in the Weird. Not all of them trust me yet, especially the Dead.”
“The Dead have no interest in anything that doesn’t benefit them, and the living have nothing to offer them,” I said.
“Which might make them perfect mercenaries for Donor,” she said.
“I don’t think you have to worry about the Dead. They played that game for the Guild, and it got them a war,” I said.
“Anything can be bought for the right price,” she said.
I stared at Brokke point-blank. “If only there was someone who had access to the king who might advise you.”
Brokke glowered. “His Royal Majesty knows full well my loyalty and my whereabouts.”
I nodded toward him. “You let him in your office knowing that?” I asked Eorla.
Her mischievous smile revealed the answer. “I feed him misinformation, and he runs to Donor with it like the trained puppy he is.”
Baffled, I stared at both of them. “I do not understand elven politics at all.”
Brokke rustled his papers and went back to reading while Eorla laughed. “It’s an old game—like all court intrigue. We pretend to be fooled by subterfuge while using it to further our own ends. By saying I give my cousin’s dwarf misinformation, I reveal my awareness that he is not to be trusted while making him wonder what is true and what is not.”
Brokke sighed. “And I am no one’s dwarf.”
Eorla observed Brokke with bemusement. “He says that often, and I tend to believe it is the one thing he speaks always true. Brokke may provide counsel, but he keeps his own more often.”
“Maybe he can tell me why one of Donor’s men was after an essence seller down in the Tangle?” I asked.
Brokke dropped his papers on the seat beside him. “Her Royal Highness may entertain herself by speaking about me as if I were not here. You may not.”
I shrugged. “Sorry. I got confused.”
“The Elven King knows Eorla is concerned about the blue essence moving through the Weird. He made the connection to essence sellers before you did,” Brokke said.
“Why does he care?” I asked.
“Answers have advantages when you are the only one who has them,” Brokke said.
“Did he find any answers?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but he will find something. I have seen him in a vision, sure and elated as he moves through this city,” said Brokke.
Brokke’s visions were what made him valuable to the Elven King. His predictions held up, and that made him dangerous as an ally or foe. He saw truth and likelihood where less skilled scryers saw hints and guesses.
“And then what happens?” Eorla asked. Donor had come to Boston to bring Eorla to heel. Anything that made him happy did not bode well for her.
Brokke shrugged. “The vision fails. I see nothing beyond those moments.”
The downside to seeing a future, even for those who were good at it, was that the scryers could not see their own future. Knowing the future changes the future. For scryers, events that included them became difficult to decipher, if not unseeable. When scryers were part of events, thinking about them muddied the vision. “You’re going to be there,” I said.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Or you are.”
Time and again, scryers had told me that they cannot see me in their visions. The obvious conclusion was the black mass in my head, but how that related to the future—or affected visions of people I had never met—puzzled me. “Is it asking too much to find out what Donor knows?”
Brokke gave me an enigmatic smile. “Not at all. Sharing that answer might be another matter.”
23
Meryl lay propped up in her bed in Briallen’s guest room, her eyes fixed on the opposite wall. Upstairs, Briallen and Nigel prepared the sanctum sanctorum. I played with Meryl’s hand, twining my fingers through hers. “I don’t know if this is the right thing to do, Meryl, but I don’t know what else to do. I don’t trust Nigel, but Briallen says this might work. I can’t stand seeing you like this, but I’m afraid, okay? I’m afraid you might never come out of this, and I’m afraid Nigel has some motive I haven’t figured out. But I can’t not do anything. I’ll be right beside you, and so will Briallen.”
She didn’t answer. That would have been too much to ask, never mind too-perfect timing. A cool touch against my forehead preceded Briallen’s sending. We’re ready.
I lifted Meryl’s hand and kissed it. “Time to go.”
Her weight barely registered in my arms as I picked her up. She curled into me like a child, her head bowed and leaning into the crook of my shoulder. I didn’t rush to the fifth floor of the house, worried I’d slip or bang against something. At the top of the stairs, I paused to catch my breath.
Soft yellow light filtered out of a stone arch centered in the wall on the top-floor landing. The stone door stood open, Celtic spirals and knots inscribed over its entire surface. Essence flickered in the swirling patterns, glowing shades of blue, white, and yellow. The door replaced another that had been destroyed last year. That was my fault, but I didn’t feel guilty about it. No one got hurt that time, and lives were saved. Briallen never said a word about replacing it. The new door was more ornate than the last one. I was sure it cost her a pretty penny. Not that I could afford to pay her back, but I liked to know my debts. Despite its weight and size, it moved with a bare touch, balanced on carved-stone hinges.
I waited in the doorway as Briallen and Nigel finished their preparations. Dressed in plain muslin robes, they faced each other across a long granite slab that took up the center of the oval room. The room was a jeweler’s dream, every surface encrusted with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and other gemstones that glittered in the light from candles set in niches. The floor tiles had bloodstone and quartz embedded in them. Sapphires and opals—ward gems of a moon worshipper—clustered about the foot of the table. Some stones glowed with their own inner light, evidence of the resonant essence that created a safe environment in the room, sealing it from outside forces.
I had seen Briallen’s sanctum once before when she needed me to act as her anchor while she went into a trance. What Nigel had proposed was similar. The problem was that none of us had been designated as an anchor when whatever happened to Meryl happened. The challenge would be getting her essence to latch onto someone, who would then guide her back to the waking world.
That someone wasn’t going to be me. Nigel explained his in
tentions, which depended on a fine understanding of body essence. The dark mass was a wild variable. Without knowing what the black mass was, it was impossible to take it into account in the spells. I understood and had to accept that. It didn’t mean I liked it.
I lowered Meryl onto the slab. A thin white cloth over the table didn’t provide much cushioning. Briallen arranged Meryl’s arms and legs in as comfortable a position as she could for someone lying on cold stone. Nigel moved to the head of the table and placed his hands on Meryl’s shoulders. “You need to leave now, Connor.”
He didn’t say it with the usual snide tone he had adopted for me. It was a statement of fact. Even without the ritual starting, the dark mass in my head pounded against my skull, eager for the ambient essence in the room. I caressed Meryl’s hand and stepped away.
Briallen wrapped her arm in mine and escorted me out onto the landing. “Remember: This will either work or it won’t. If it doesn’t, we’ve lost nothing.”
I kissed her on the forehead. “Okay. I’ll wait in the parlor.”
She squeezed my arm and let me slip into the hall. Our eyes met as she pushed the door closed behind me. It will be fine, she sent.
More spirals on the door flared as it closed. I reached out, wanting to help, but the dark mass in my head shot a dagger of pain down my arm. It wanted the essence in the door, maybe even in the people on the other side. I clenched my jaw as I backed away, trying to understand how to make the darkness behave. It receded either because of my thoughts or my moving away from the door.
I descended the stairs all the way to the kitchen and made coffee. Trance rituals took time, and I had to distract myself. I brought a tray up to the parlor with some cookies Briallen had made. Only Briallen would think of baking my favorite cookies before embarking on a complicated essence experiment. I wished I was that attentive and organized.
I placed the tray on the table near an armchair by the fireplace. The blue flames burned in the grate higher and brighter than usual. From my years living in the house, I knew they did that in reaction to essence in the house.
I browsed through Briallen’s bookshelves. The fascinating thing about her library was that it always surprised. I couldn’t count how many times I’ve looked through her books, yet whenever I approached it with a new question, I found a new book. Part of that was the sheer wealth of information. Many times, I didn’t get beyond the first shelf before I discovered something I had to read right then. Like now, I started looking for something on powered stones and instead ended up seated with a book on dwarves and their customs.
I startled at a noise and realized I had dozed off. My book had slipped to the floor, but that wasn’t what had awakened me. Something fell in the next room. I hurried across the second-floor landing to the workroom. Briallen crouched on the floor beneath a table, rummaging in boxes.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I asked.
She didn’t look up. “Nigel is deep in trance. We need more crystal to anchor him.”
I came around the table to help her. “What’s happening, Briallen?”
She looked up at me, tired but pleased. “We found her, Connor. Her spirit was lost, but Nigel found her. We need to pull them back.”
Relief swept over me. “What do you need?”
“Orbs. Quartz crystal, preferably selenite. Check those shelves.”
I pulled a large fabric box from a high shelf and placed it on the table, tossing aside paper wrapping. “You used to keep some in here.”
She cocked her head at me. “And you know that how?”
I threw her a guilty look. “I accidentally climbed up there once and found them.”
She shook her head with amused annoyance. “Never doubt the inquisitiveness of a teenage druid.”
I lifted a rose quartz sphere from the bottom of the box. “Here’s the one.”
The dark mass in my head spiked as a wave of essence washed over me. I clutched the sphere to my chest to avoid dropping it. Another wave hit, crashing over me, and a spear of black shadow stabbed out of my right eye and struck the table. Briallen leaped out of the way, backing against the wall.
The room trembled. Boxes and papers slid from the shelves. Glass bottles along the windowsill rattled against each other as the worktable danced in place.
“Are you controlling this?” Briallen asked. Her voice sounded far away.
I thrust the sphere at her, and she grabbed it. I slipped to my knees. My right hand curled into a stiff claw of black. Another wave of essence swept over me. I recognized it then, knew it as intimately as my own. Meryl’s body signature permeated the air. “It’s not me. It’s Meryl.”
Shadow filled the room as Briallen stumbled out the door. I crawled after her, pulling myself to my feet. Out in the hall, Briallen struggled up the stairs. As the house shook around us, I followed, unsure if I would make matters worse or not. The darkness blinded me on one side but enhanced my sensing ability. The air seethed with essence, roiling clouds of angry colors grinding against each other. As we turned the stairs to the top floor, a concussion of air slapped us back. Briallen stumbled into my arms, knocking me off-balance. We fell, rolling to the landing, our fall cushioned by her body shields.
The shaking stopped. The crazed essence that had filled the air retreated up the stairs. Briallen and I faced each other, our legs tangled where we had fallen. The darkness in my eye withdrew, a thick, painful ooze into my head. A heavy panting sound filled the silence.
I pushed myself up. “Meryl.”
I half ran, half crawled up the remaining stairs as I tried to move before my feet were under me. Meryl sprawled on the landing, her head propped up against the banister. She turned her head—my heart raced to see it—she turned her head to look up at me. I fell to the floor and gathered her in my arms. “Are you okay?”
The warmth of her body pressed against me. She didn’t move at first, then her arms came up and hugged me. “Why the hell am I wearing a pink sweatshirt?” she asked.
I laughed into her hair and kissed the top of her head. Pulling back, I held her face. “Are you back?”
Her eyes went wide as she focused on me, then looked over my shoulder as Briallen arrived. “I’m fine.”
“What happened? Is Nigel all right?” Briallen asked.
Something in her voice—something horrified or angry—made me turn. The door to the sanctum was closed—not only closed but fused shut—the door and its frame one seamless whole. The circular stone had been burned white from essence discharge, a dark spot in the center where the bolt had struck.
Meryl’s face pinched in anger. “Screw him. He tried to kill me.”
24
Meryl sat bundled in a blanket in front of the fire in the second-floor parlor. She sipped tea from a large mug. Briallen watched her either like a concerned mother or a bird of prey. “Sit down, Bree. I’m not going anywhere.”
Briallen gave her some space, but didn’t sit. “Damn right, you’re not. What happened?”
Meryl brushed her hair back from her forehead. “My hair feels weird.”
“I wouldn’t let them cut it. I thought you would be mad,” I said.
Meryl pulled several strands in front of her face and examined them. Her eyes went wide. “Shit. How long was I out?”
“Almost three months,” I said.
She sloshed tea on the blanket and almost dropped the mug. “Three months? Are you kidding?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” asked Briallen.
I noticed a slight trembling in her hand as Meryl placed the mug on the table beside her chair. “I was with Eorla down in the Weird. We were trying to contain the Taint. Did it work?”
I nodded. “Completely. Eorla absorbed it all and suppressed it inside herself.”
“Damn, that woman’s strong,” she said.
“You both passed out. I thought you were . . .” I couldn’t finish the sentence. Seeing Meryl collapsed on the street, no sign of life or essence, had torn some
thing inside me that night. I lost control and went on a rampage.
“Wow,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. We waited as she absorbed the news. “I ain’t gonna lie—it hurt like hell. I tried to wall off the pain, but every time I shielded myself, the Taint got stronger. I kept building the protection spell until I couldn’t even think anymore. I remember burying myself deeper and deeper in my mind while the Taint rushed through me. The next thing I knew, I heard Nigel calling my name.”
“We took you to Avalon Memorial. Gillen tried for months to revive you. Nigel found the way though,” said Briallen.
Meryl hummed in understanding. “Not surprised. He told me he was trance-lost once, and he got back by following a powerful essence.”
“I never heard that story,” I said.
Meryl shrugged. “I’m sure he told you things I never heard either.”
Briallen paced in front of her again. “What did you mean he tried to kill you?”
Meryl picked up the mug again, no tremor this time. “I was dreaming, then I felt this jolt that made my head feel hazy. The dream stopped, and I heard someone calling my name. Eventually, I saw Nigel’s essence. When I moved toward it, his essence seemed to push me away.” She turned to Briallen. “You were there, too, Bree. Why’d you leave?”
“I was anchoring Nigel while he searched for you. When he saw you, Nigel said he needed selenite to boost his essence. He said you were too deep for him to pull you out. I was getting the crystal when you did whatever you did up there.”
I pulled my chair closer. “You said he pushed you away.”
She played with her hair, checking its length. “I realized I was in a trance, and when I tried to return to my body, he blocked me. Then he tried to rip my mind apart.”
“Why the hell would he do that?” Briallen said.
Meryl shrugged. “It wasn’t clear. My sense was that he was looking for information. Something he needed to know before he finished me off. Something about you, Grey. Something about an essence source.”
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