by Scott Duff
“And you’re not far behind him,” I said sternly to Ethan. “Y’all were amazing out there. I really don’t know how to thank you for what you did.”
“There’s nothing to thank us for, Seth,” said Ethan, mildly, as he split the collar of Peter’s shirt and tugged it over his head. He cocked his head slightly, looking at Peter. “Kieran, could you come over here?”
Kieran came and stood beside Ethan, looking at Peter and munching thoughtfully on a piece of the nasty purple fruit. He raised an eyebrow at whatever he saw that I didn’t.
“Well, we thought it would happen sooner or later,” he said, off-handedly. “I wonder what the trigger was?”
“What would happen?” I asked.
Ethan looked up at me, then stepped back suddenly, surprised. “I can see you now! Kier… and you!” He had turned to Kieran to say something but had stopped.
“What do you mean, see me now?” I asked with irritation.
“I get it now. ‘Little Brother,’ I understand what you meant by that,” he said. A smile crept across his face and with his aura started glowing at me. For the first time, instead of a very faint afterimage, I was seeing Eth’anok’avel in his full glory, just as I saw Kieran in his. Finally.
“Well, clue me in, then,” I said as I looked around the room for something to wash Peter with. Ethan was almost as hard to look at as Kieran.
“It’s all about family, isn’t it?” Ethan said, turning to Kieran. “Not just bloodlines, but the bonding as well.”
“That’s my guess,” said Kieran, nodding. “I don’t know what Seth did while he was dealing with Peter, but he got Peter to break down a lot of walls he’d built around himself and he accepted his bond with Seth. That created the link he needed.”
“What are ya’ll talking about?” I asked. I’d had all the frustration I could deal with today.
“Two things, really,” said Kieran. “One, Peter’s aura will probably be invisible to everybody, like ours, and two, he’s a member of our family, now.” He popped the last of the purple fruit into his mouth and stretched out onto the nearest bench slowly, groaning.
“I’d pretty much thought of him that way since he came down to Atlanta,” I said, searching through the lockers for towels or a basin or something. “I mean, he didn’t have to do any of what he’s done. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him now.” I slammed the last locker shut and sat down hard on the bench.
“Kieran,” I said, my voice quavering, “I think I screwed up. Maybe pretty bad.”
“No, ya’ didn’t, ya’ dumbass,” said Ethan, hitting me in the back of the head with a wet towel. “I don’t even know what you think the problem is, you just have to look at him to know that. Seth, look at him.” Ethan laid a steamy towel across Peter’s hips and dropped another towel into the pewter basin on the floor at his feet. He stared at me while he bent to wring the towel out. “Let’s not make this a test of strength between me and the Stone,” he said blandly, “I’m not sure it would take your side, anyway.”
I snorted through the still warm towel as I wiped my face and neck. He may be right there. Not a supposition I really wanted to test, though we really needed to find out more about that somehow. I got up and went to look at Peter, lying on a tabletop. He looked so… normal to me. His body was fine. His aura was still marred, but it looked to be mending, growing like it should be, a little fast actually.
“I don’t see anything,” I said, sullenly.
“That’s his point, Seth,” said Kieran from the bench.
Ethan nodded as he laid another towel down Peter’s legs, wrapping around to get to all the dried blood. “His body and mind have been hurt so badly that it is highly unlikely that he’ll remember anything that happened from the time he got hurt to the time he wakes up. When he does wake up, he will be better off than he was before he got hit. You were dealing with his subconscious mind, with feelings and desires that he may not have been aware of, much less been in control of. And whatever you did, said, or showed him got him to accept you as a constant in his life. Someone as important to him as his father, his brother or his son, and not just a friend.”
Peter shifted on the table a little, pushing at the towel on his hips.
“Good,” said Ethan, “He’s starting to wake up. Why don’t you answer the door and I’ll see if I can’t roust him and get him in the shower and changed.”
The loud knock on the door startled me, more from Ethan’s prophecy than the actual knock.
“That’ll be either Cahill, MacNamara, or both,” said Kieran, not moving from the bench he was laying on.
I went to open the door, swiping a piece of some sort of meat of the food table as I went. It vaguely looked like sliced turkey, so I assumed and ate it. I opened the door and found Kieran’s prediction to be true, but with a few additions. Cahill was here and MacNamara, along with Florian. The two women, though, weren’t expected. Flanking MacNamara stood the Summer and Winter Queens of the Faery.
“Um, Ehran? We have company.”
Chapter 22
“Seth, go help Ethan,” Kieran said from behind me. “Mr. Cahill, Señor Florian, welcome, please come in.” Kieran stepped aside enough to let the two men slip in past him then filled the doorway again, turning to the elves. “MacNamara, we have had a rough day. Your consort is not particularly welcome here at the moment.”
MacNamara had a smile on his face that looked like it would never come off.
“Do not push us, Ehran McClure,” said the Winter Queen, narrowing her eyes, her voice haughty and far less melodic than during her earlier spell.
“An apprentice handled the daughters earlier,” said Kieran with equal severity, “I assure you the master can handle the mothers with similar aplomb. And when the master is the son of Robert McClure, ask yourselves, Queens of Fairy, how much you stand to lose.”
My head shot up to stare at Kieran’s back. He’d just threatened, by his admission, the two strongest beings in Faery, possibly the universe. In front of witnesses. Cahill and Florian were exchanging shocked looks about it, too. They moved into the corner of the locker room away from the door, presumably out of the line of fire. But the Sidhe were backing down.
“That is precisely what we wish to talk to you about, McClure,” said the Summer Queen, sweet as a summer breeze. I swear I smelled honeysuckle growing somewhere in the locker room. “Meet us at the Crossroads, then, McClure, at your discretion, but do not tarry. Yours is not the only life that hangs in the balance.” Then they were gone, without a dust mote out of place or the slightest touch of power used.
“Aren’t they a lovely pair?” said MacNamara as Kieran stepped back from the door and allowed him in, his silky casual outfit glimmering in the light. One of his proxies shut the door behind them, but they stayed at the door. He turned to Cahill and Florian, putting his finger to his lips and said, “Shh. I don’t get to talk often, so let’s keep this our secret, yes?”
“Who’s shouting?” croaked Peter, barely audibly. Ethan had gotten him to wake finally.
“Hey, buddy, how’r’ya feelin’,” I said softly, leaning in close to him, everybody else in the room forgotten for the moment.
“Tired. What happened?” he asked, a little louder. He tried to lift his head, but dropped it back down almost immediately. His hands were wandering through the air unsteadily.
“You got hurt pretty bad,” said Ethan, moving in closer opposite me. “You think you can sit up for us? I’ll help you. Just go real slow, now.” Ethan slipped his arm under Peter’s neck and lifted him slowly up into sitting position, doing all the work himself. I moved over to his side to help.
“I see that young Mr. Borland has contracted the same invisibility disease that the three of you have,” said MacNamara from the center of the room. “For a moment there, I thought he had died.”
I slowly pulled Peter’s legs off the side of the table so we could pick him up and get him to the showers.
“He do it again?”
asked Peter, quietly, of Ethan, his head cradled in Ethan’s elbow as he turned on the table.
“How is he even alive?” Cahill asked in stark disbelief.
“Strong constitution and good, clean living,” said Kieran, smiling. “How is Olivia?”
“We honestly do not know,” said Cahill, nervously, looking back and forth between Kieran and us. “Physically, she was badly hurt. She’s under physician’s care at the moment with half a dozen healers at his disposal.”
“Can you guys turn down the lights? It’s so bright in here,” Peter whispered as Ethan and I lifted him off the table with his arms across our shoulders. He was heavier than he looked, lean muscles on a lithe body.
“’Fraid not, Petey,” said Ethan with a grin. “You’re seeing us, now. He did it again, remember?”
“Her mind is the problem,” continued Cahill. “She is locked behind something we don’t recognize and we can’t break through it. We can’t even analyze it. It’s like we’re not even seeing the base cause. It is most perplexing.”
“Go slow, buddy, we need to get you cleaned up here,” I murmured to Peter, trying to listen to conversation and still take care of him.
“I’ve got him,” said Ethan. “Go turn on the water.”
I slid out of Peter’s grasp and ran ahead to the showers. The first “stall,” for lack of a better word, had a shelf we could sit Peter on and angle the showerhead toward him. I got the water going lukewarm, then stripped off, tossing my clothes off to the side without concern. I took Peter from Ethan and eased us both into the spray while Ethan disrobed, tossing his clothes on top of mine.
“Oh, that feels good,” moaned Peter, as the water ran down him, turning into a rust colored muddy mess at his feet. He reached out and turned the water on hotter, ducking his head under the flow and leaning against the wall with both hands. I stood there unsure of what to do while Ethan showered at the next head, watching us at the same time. I’d forgotten how muscular Ethan was until then and I had to remind myself that he’d only put a night into his body instead of years of work in the gym. Not that he didn’t deserve the physique he held—I could see the power the little blond man held in his aura now—but at least I didn’t have to feel inferior on that front, too. I could rationalize it away.
“Come on, Peter, you need to wash up so you can eat,” I prompted. Ethan finished scrubbing up and was nudging me to swap places with him. Peter took the wash cloth and soap from me and I moved over and washed the stink and sweat off hurriedly. By the time I’d rinsed and shut the water off, Peter was moving more steadily and with more energy. Not perfectly, mind, but better. I padded back out into the main room to get towels, spotting four clean green silk uniforms sitting on the bench behind the table. Brownies, gotta love’m.
Kieran was escorting Cahill and Florian to the door, but MacNamara still stood in the center of the room, still smiling broadly. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I went back into the showers. Peter was sitting on the shelf soaping his legs thoroughly. Ethan helped him stand and rinse when he was done. Then we toweled him off and started the slow trip back to the main room.
“I’ll have to get hurt more often, to get pampered like this,” said Peter, gaining some strength in his voice, smiling some.
“Nah, Seth’ll kill me if I let this happen again,” said Ethan.
“So the chicks are running the hen house, now?” asked MacNamara with raised eyebrows, turning to Kieran who was heading for the showers.
“You saw him today. Wouldn’t you tread lightly around him?” Kieran asked, chortling as he tested the water.
“Speaking of, you lied to me, Mr. McClure,” MacNamara said to me. The anger in his voice wasn’t real or if it was it was hidden well behind the smile and gleam in his eyes.
“Huh?” I said, poking my head through shirt I was putting on. “I haven’t lied to you.” Well, I hadn’t lied to anyone that I was aware of. I think.
“I asked you if you had the Black Hand’s swords, Mr. McClure,” said MacNamara, pitching his voice high on my name.
“Oh, no, sir,” I said, remembering the conversation now. “You asked me if I took the weapons from the burning corpses of the Black Hand assassins. I most certainly did not, nor could I have survived an attack by them. They were given to me after the elven bindings were removed.”
“How does one remove elven bindings from elven weapons?” MacNamara said with a touch of sarcasm.
“The weapons aren’t elven,” I said, “So I would be unqualified to answer that question, sir.”
That surprised him. “Really? Most interesting,” he said. “That would explain why they chose that particular method, then.” His smile was back.
“We thought so,” Kieran called from the shower. He apparently didn’t have the same difficulty hearing over there that I had.
“So how are you hiding them?” he asked. “I saw no evidence of an oubliette, though I must admit I see little evidence of any of you.”
“I’ve disappeared, too?” asked Peter, a smile starting to turn the corners of his mouth up. “Cool! Is that why…?”
“Yes. Now get dressed,” said Ethan, tossing him his uniform. Peter started dressing with more exuberance. He stumbled a bit when he stood to pull his pants up, but Ethan caught him.
“May I see one,” MacNamara asked me.
“See what?” I asked.
“One of the swords? May I see one?” he asked again.
That didn’t seem unreasonable. I asked the Day Sword if it minded being shown off, with its scabbard, to MacNamara, mainly because I felt the Night sword would be dangerous in the hands of the elf. It didn’t object, so I shifted it to my right hand, holding it out for MacNamara to take.
He gasped when it appeared. “How are you doing that?” he asked, accepting the Sword gingerly.
“Nifty little trick, isn’t it?” remarked Kieran, moving next to Ethan while drying his hair brusquely with a towel. The comment was intended to tell me to say nothing. All it actually did was remind me that Kieran was built like Fort Knox.
“Indeed,” agreed MacNamara, glancing longingly down the scabbard. “I did not see it coming at all. Tell me, what is to stop me from merely leaving now with the blade?”
“Attempt to draw the blade,” I said, shrugging at the question.
MacNamara grasped the hilt and the scabbard and pulled. Nothing happened. He tried again, exerting greater effort. Again, he was unable to pull the Sword free.
“Intriguing,” he murmured. “I see nothing here that would lock the scabbard in place.”
I called to the Sword, opening my hand to accept it, and it flew from MacNamara’s hand into mine then disappeared into my cavern. I thanked the Sword for its display.
“Or anything that would cause it to do that!” exclaimed MacNamara, beaming at me. “I knew I made a good decision allowing you four in. Nothing but amusement and excitement has followed you.”
“This kind of excitement I could live without,” I mumbled, slipping my shoes on.
“Live for a few thousand years and you might disagree,” MacNamara said, dryly.
“There are some who have lived considerably longer who would not,” said Ethan meeting MacNamara’s gaze without flinching.
“Ethan,” Kieran said by way of a mild reprimand. “Mind your manners.”
“Well, Ethan the Enigma,” said MacNamara, “while we are on the subject of you, tell me, you call yourself an apprentice, yet you stand beside your master employing abilities far beyond even most human masters of schools.”
“There are many things to learn,” said Ethan, evasively, his cherubic smile lighting his eyes brightly.
“From where do you hail? Your family?” asked MacNamara, searching for clues. He knew he was being played. He was an elf and they played these games all the time.
“This is my family, sir,” Ethan said, smiling, spreading his hands out, palms up. “And I was ‘born’ in Alabama.” I didn’t know where to look to not laugh, so I
chose to stare at the floor and went to the food table for something to eat for Peter and me.
“So ‘McClure’ is your family name then?” he asked.
“No, sir, I have no family name,” said Ethan.
“Then what is your name?” asked MacNamara, lounging back on the bench behind him. I think he was beginning to enjoy the little game of cat and mouse with Ethan.
“Are you proposing a trade?” asked Ethan, raising an eyebrow, his smile going crooked.
“Wouldn’t be fair,” I said as I carried the plate back to Peter.
“And what makes you say that, young man?” asked MacNamara, the bright orange of his eyes dominating the blue.
“Then you would be getting something for nothing,” I said without rancor. “You publicly announced your name when you reinitialized your power to the fountain. It would not be a fair trade.”
Anger streaked through him in bright orange, the color of his eyes, braced in red and black. His body language was calm, his power steady. He was definitely mad at me, but he didn’t look like he was going to do anything about it.
“I’m sorry, I said something wrong?” I asked the elf with concern.
“Is he truly this naïve, Ehran?” MacNamara asked, turning suddenly and swiftly to Kieran.
MacNamara had a gift for asking people questions as they pulled shirts over their heads. “Yes, your Grace, he is only seventeen and unschooled on anything not of his world.”
“Keep that knowledge within these walls, boy,” MacNamara said to me, dryly, his eyes almost completely orange. “My enmity can be as dangerous to those around you as to you yourself.”
“When is our next competition, MacNamara?” asked Kieran, his motive to draw the conversation away from the confrontation was rather obvious and welcome.
“Not until tomorrow noon,” MacNamara said casually. “There was a rash of self inflicted wounding after the first scheduling and we had to move your team up to the final event before we lost everyone. And we’ve lost part of the field to your fires so it will take a little longer.”