Got Luck

by Michael Darling

  “It was. Simple really. Brón would create. A vessel. For. Thy spirit. The deamhan. Would let. Us live out. Our lives. And. When I die. My soul. Will take. Deamhan form. And I will. Serve Brón. Forever.”

  I was amazed how controlled Béil was. She didn’t cry or get angry. I suppose she had come to terms with the consequences of her decision a long time ago. She was like Milly Mallondyke in that way. She had already given the allotment of tears necessary to pay the bill on the pain. On the other hand, Erin was a basket case. Tears ran down her cheeks and she wiped them away before they could fall and stain Béil’s dress.

  “I also. Had to give. Offerings. From inside. Myself. Since that. Day. I have. Had trouble. Speaking.” Béil gave that rueful smile again. “But. It worked. I passed out. After the. Ceremony. When I woke up. My friend. Had returned. Body and spirit. Together.”

  Béil put her hand on Erin’s cheek for a moment. Then she stood up and left the room.

  Erin and I looked at each other, not really knowing what to think or what to say.

  Béil was only gone for a few seconds. When she returned, she was holding the hand of the little boy in the old-fashioned shirt.

  “This is. My friend,” Béil said. “This is. Laoch.” She turned and looked at the boy, “Can you. Say ‘Hello.’ Laoch?”

  The boy stared at us for a long moment and then shook his head.

  “Laoch. Rarely speaks. To anyone. But me,” she said. “Please don’t. Take offense.”

  “Of course not,” I replied. This was the answer to the question I had been meaning to ask. I stood and went over to the boy and held out my hand. With a measure of defiance burning in his eyes, he shook my hand. “You gave me a warning the other night. I should have listened to you,” I said. “And you brought that bullet casing to my office. It helped me find out some very important information. You may have helped save a man’s life. Maybe even my life. For that you should be proud.”

  The boy Laoch didn’t move to respond. He just looked at me and I realized where I had seen his eyes before.

  Every morning in the mirror.

  “May I look at your hands for a moment?” I asked.

  Laoch stuck his free hand out, but he didn’t let go of Béil with the other. My new vision was more than good enough to see the fingerprints on our hands. They were a match. “That explains a lot,” I said. “We have the same fingerprints.” I turned to Erin. “That’s why you found my fingerprints on the bullet casing.” Back to Laoch, I said. “Do me a favor, okay? Don’t rob any banks.”

  I stood and looked Béil in the eyes. She was calm.

  “He does. Tasks for me. Without fear. He is very. Strong. And brave. As thou art.”

  But he’s not really me. He’s a facsimile.

  “When I. Need to go. To the. mortal realm. I send him. And he. In turn. Summons me there.”

  That explained a great deal.

  Béil knelt and gave Laoch a kiss on the forehead and ran her fingers through his hair. She whispered something to him and he left the room. Before he turned the corner, he gave us all a quick stare.

  Béil watched him leave. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but her expression would be best described as mixed. We went back to the table. “He never. Ages. He never changes. This is why. You are. So broken. And so. Am I. There are. Other things. Missing. From inside me. This is. Why I. Have treated you. So cruelly. I have. Been like this. For so. Many years. I now. Have. A reputation. To uphold.”

  She smiled again, but it was more sad than rueful.

  She turned to Erin. “The other. Night when. There was. The choosing. For the. Helpmeet. I thought. Got would. Remember me. Or at least. Remember the. Pleasure I. Showed him. It never. Occurred to me. That he would. Choose. Someone else. I thought. Destiny. Would bring. The two of. Us together. Again. I was wrong.”

  Béil turned to me again.

  “Because I. Thought I. Had thee. I never. Went back. To the crypt. I did not. Realize. Thou wert. Still there. After a while. I realized. Laoch was not. Growing older. Still I. Never went. Back. I thought. It was. Brón’s doing. Decades passed. Instead of. Laoch’s lover. I became. His mother. Then. The Alder King. And his Priests. Found a way to. Heal thee. Thou wast taken. To the Mama. Thou grewest. Into the man. I expected.”

  She looked at me as if she was comparing me in the flesh to what she had envisioned in her mind. I wished then that Laoch hadn’t gone from the room. If he and I were different pieces off the same soul, how would it feel to look into his eyes now? My eyes?

  “I visited. The Mama. From time to. Time. You know. To see. How thou. Wast growing.”

  I had a flashback. Peeking out from my hiding place in The Mama’s house to see a hooded figure who came in the middle of the night. It had been Béil.

  “I became angry. At the King. His priests. At Brón. At thee. But mostly. At myself.”

  “You couldn’t have known how things would turn out,” I offered.

  Béil shook her head. “I knew. The bargain. With Brón would. Be a trap. Of some sort. Deamhan bargains. Are ever thus. But never. What you think.”

  I looked down at my platter and found most of the food was gone. I hardly remembered eating it. I had been listening to Béil intensely and hadn’t paid attention to the task of putting food in my mouth—but I had certainly had my fill.

  “I am. Concerned thou. Wilt be. Unable to. Defeat him,” Béil was saying to me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean. Caimiléir. Thou must. Defeat him.”

  “I get that. I’m the prince, and the task falls to me because the Eternals have to be summoned to the mortal realm to do anything. And Eternals won’t take action if it doesn’t affect them directly. Caimiléir knows that,” I still wasn’t prepared to mention the Jeweled Gate, but it was pretty clear that Caimiléir had designs to keep the Eternals out of it. “If I’m right, he’s bypassing this realm altogether and skipping straight to the big show in the mortal realm. I think that scene he put on tonight was just to make sure the King had one last chance to get on board Caimiléir’s crazy train. By the way, what does all that stuff mean that the King said about Caimiléir being Uncourted and Knight Solitary?”

  Erin offered an explanation. “Uncourted means that he belongs to no faction. That’s both a good and a bad thing. On the one hand, he won’t be able to ask for support to back him up.”

  “I don’t think he wants any,” I replied.

  “I agree,” Erin replied. “It also means that he cannot dishonor any of the houses of the host. Any dishonor belongs to him and him alone.”

  “So if there are consequences, he has to pay them—but he’s almost free to do what he wants this way because he’s not bound by any court rules. Is that it?”

  “Exactly.”

  I sighed. “It’s almost like the King wants him to try this insane plan of his.”

  “If so. Then only. That thou. Mayest stop it,” Béil said. “Thou art. Halfling. Thou hast. A vested. Interest. In both realms. Especially the. Mortal. But thou. Art reckless. Ignoring the. Warnings from. Laoch and I. Almost killed thee. This begs. The question. Canst thou make. The choices. That will. Be required?”

  I didn’t answer. Béil turned to Erin. “Time. Is short. Will he. Be prepared?”

  Erin didn’t say anything, but I saw her clench her jaw.

  “Be vigilant. Be wary. Caimiléir. Will use thee. For his. Own purposes. Don’t be fooled.”

  I nodded.

  “Lastly. Remember this,” Béil continued. “It’s no secret. I will. Want my. Share of the. Glory. When the. Time comes. Find. The place. Where Caimiléir. Will be. Summoning. The deamhan. I will. Help thee. Kill. Him.”

  “I already have a pretty good idea where that will be.”

  “Do you?”

  “It’s what I do. I investigate.”

&n
bsp; Béil looked at me intently. Her words were as cold as an iceberg. “Caimiléir too. Must die.”

  Suddenly, Béil went from lecturing me about how to do my job to rolling her eyes up into her head. She was as immobile and silent as a statue.

  “Béil?”

  She didn’t move. Her lips didn’t move. Her throat didn’t move. But there was a voice. It sounded like Béil, but it didn’t speak like her. The syntax was elegant and smooth.

  What was once above is below,

  What was below, above.

  What was once in is out,

  What was out is in.

  Call the inside out,

  Not the outside in.

  What the heck was that?

  Her eyelids fluttered and Béil stirred. Only a few seconds had passed.

  “Are you all right? Béil?”

  I dipped a table napkin in a goblet of water and brushed Béil’s forehead and cheeks. Erin rubbed her hands. “She’s cold,” Erin said.

  Moments passed with no change. I shot Erin a look wondering if she knew what to do and she looked back at me. Finally, Béil shivered. Her eyes rolled back down and focused on us, seeing the concern in our faces.

  “Oh,” she said. “Was I. Gone?”

  “Just for a minute,” Erin replied.

  “What did. I say?”

  I repeated the words.

  Béil listened and nodded. “Another. Gift from. Brón. A side effect. I can’t control. It happens. From time. To time.”

  “Is it prophecy?” Erin asked.

  “I’m. Never sure. Sometimes it. Seems to be. Prophecy. If one. Can understand it. It sometimes. Comes true. Sometimes it is. Just. Bad poetry.”

  That made me laugh.

  Béil laughed too. She said, “I’m like. Cassandra. Except instead. Of being. Cursed with prophecies. Nobody believes. I’m cursed with. Prophecies that. Aren’t worth. Believing.”

  “Maybe it will be useful,” I said.

  Béil waved her hand wearily. “You two. Should go. I’m tired. And. You have things. To do.”

  We took her at her word. As we left, we told her that the evening had been memorable and the food delicious and she was thoughtful to have put all the arrangements together. She sort of nodded her head and that was it. For the first time, I thought of Béil as a real person.

  Erin and I walked down toward the lake. The new moon had made some progress in its climb up the sky and its light shimmered on the lake like silver ribbons cast on the water. Behind us, there was a new grave for a dead deamhan. There had been another death in my realm, the mortal realm, with the Tongan. The blood of both was on Caimiléir’s hands, and he needed to be stopped before more blood was spilled.

  “I have a question for Keeper,” I said, breaking the stillness of the twilight. I regretted doing it. “First I have to check out the place where Caimiléir may be building the Jeweled Gate.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Warehouse Rave

  It was late. Erin and I were waiting for Nat to pick up the phone. He wasn’t at work and he wasn’t home either. I’d left a message on his cell phone and he hadn’t called back yet. It had been an hour. I wasn’t worried. Maybe a little.

  “One more day,” I said.

  Erin replied. “I just hope I’m giving you what you need. I’m teaching you what I know and I hope it will be enough. Realistically, the best preparation is information. You’re using your training to find the gate.”

  I nodded.

  “You already know how to make and recharge a shield. That was three days ago. You learned the fire spell and then actually had to use it yesterday. Your magical power needed time to return. So we’re going as fast as we possibly can. Your fire spell is as strong as anyone’s. You do know that, right? Because magic isn’t really something you can make more powerful with practice. In this one regard, at least, you’re as powerful as you will get and that is more powerful than anyone I know.

  “You can really only do one thing at a time, remember? Spells on top of spells just tend to cancel each other out. So the main thing is your will. After that, it’s a question of capacity. Survival in a mage fight often comes down to who runs out of power last. That’s the winner. Let me ask you a question: how do you prepare to deal with a psychopath? One without magic? You really can’t, right?”

  She had a point. “Not realistically,” I replied. “You analyze the best ways to find him, try to anticipate his moves so you can predict what he’ll do and then you stop him by whatever means necessary.”

  “Exactly. It’s the same thing with Amad, okay? A murderer could come at you with a gun or a knife or a flamethrower.”

  “Flamethrower?”

  “I’m exaggerating. But you don’t know, right? You use your skills and your tools to stop him, right? And you’re careful. Same with Amad. He has some fancy spells, but if you’re careful, if you’re smart, he’s no better than your average killer. And you may not have a lot of spells, but your spells are strong. Strength doesn’t come from the spell but from the heart of the caster.”

  “You’d make a good chief of police with a speech like that,” I said. “Yes, I’ve gone after killers before. Amad just has different weapons. I can work with that. What about counterspells?”

  “We can work on those all right,” Erin nodded, thinking it through. “We should. That will be tomorrow’s lesson.”

  “And wards. I want to know more about wards.”

  “Okay, but like I told you, wards are usually tied to a location or an object.”

  “But they don’t have to be?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. There was something you told me the other day that made me think. It may apply to anticipating our favorite psychopath’s next move.”

  Over the next few minutes I outlined what I was thinking.

  In the middle of it, finally, my phone rang.

  “Nat?” I said.

  No hello. Nat just said, “Got passes. We going?”

  “To the ballet? Finally! Giselle? Swan Lake? Cinderella?”

  Silence.

  “Symphony? Beethoven? Mozart? Shostakovich?”

  Nothing.

  “I know! Opera! Carmen? La Bohème? Tosca?”

  Crickets.

  “Okay. When do you want to go?”

  “Midnight,” Nat said.

  “Pick me up. They might know my car.”

  Nat hung up. His word count on that phone call: five.

  Erin appeared at my elbow. “Where are we going?”

  “Um. Nat and I are going to one of MacPherson’s properties. Could be the place where they’re building the gate.”

  “Great. I’ll go with you.”

  “You don’t even know where it is.”

  “Okay. Where is it?”

  “Dance club.”

  As soon as I said it, I knew I’d just given her more reason to go. She put her hands on her hips and gave me a snarky expression. At least she was kind enough not to insult me by verbally pointing out the obvious.

  I sighed. “Yeah, I know. Hot girl, underground dance club, perfect match. I’m just thinking it might be dangerous.”

  “There will be other people, right?”

  “Should be. It’s a Monday night though. Probably not as busy as a weekend.”

  “Good. I don’t like it jammed wall to wall. Besides, this is Miami. There’s a crowd ready to party every night.”

  “And how would you know that, exactly?”

  Erin gave that wicked half-smile. Right. Second stupid thing I’d said in the same minute.

  “We do have one problem, however,” I said.

  “What’s that?”

  “This place is pretty exclusive. Nat might only have two passes.”

  Erin spoke really slowly in respo
nse. I mean really, really slowly. Embarrassingly slowly. “How about I go put on a dance club dress, and then you can guess how many times I’ve needed a pass to get into a club.”

  Three strikes. I’m out.

  So very out.

  * * *

  Having never been married before, I didn’t know if Erin was the best wife ever. I did have a pretty good idea what a great girlfriend was like, however, based on my own years of experience and the empirical data gathered from observing a broad selection of my friends’ girlfriends.

  In my humble opinion, even though she wasn’t sure we’d make it as a couple in this realm, Erin was a fantastic wife-slash-girlfriend.

  I don’t know if anyone else had ever tried the accidentally-married-and-abstinence approach before. It was strange in concept at best. There had been women in my life in the past and I wasn’t qualified to talk about virtue without being a hypocrite. But we both remembered very clearly an earlier time when people didn’t sleep together before marriage—at least not so blatantly. Erin couldn’t open herself to a real relationship with me until she could get closure from her last relationship, and I wanted to respect that.

  In the meantime—and the time was mean indeed—I was getting to know Erin as a person. She was as smart and funny and accomplished as I had ever expected, and the time we were spending together had a certain kind of closeness and gratification I hadn’t experienced in my life before.

  It was its own kind of nice.

  We sat together in the front seat of Nat’s SUV. As expected, Erin was wearing an eye-popping dance club dress that would have any doorman in the country throwing down the welcome mat on first sight. Bright red and tight in all the right places, with shoes to match. Her hair was fluffed out so it would bounce when she danced, and her makeup was on the dramatic side. And she smelled amazing. Feminine and fresh.

  I noticed our hands weren’t touching, but they were next-door neighbors. My hand was on my leg and Erin’s was on the seat between us. I just left it at that. Nice.

  The gates at MacPherson’s property were open. There weren’t any searchlights or other attention-getting devices to attract a crowd. They didn’t need to promote the place at all. Even for a Monday night, the dark parking lot was more than half full. With the sun gone down for hours and a heavy darkness shrouding the sky, the blacked out windows meant the building was almost completely dark except for the roll-up door I had seen before. The door was raised high enough for people to walk under, and from there a flood of colored light poured out across the ground.