Although the suit and the rustic cabin made an odd contrast, her appearance would have seemed relatively normal—if it weren’t for the color of her skin. Every inch of exposed flesh glowed golden. Not as in goldenly tan, but as in glittering, sparkly golden, as if it had permanently absorbed a layer of gold dust.
Her eyes were also infiltrated by the strange phenomenon. What should have been white was a pale shimmering gold, and although the irises retained a trace of what appeared to be cornflower blue, both they and the pupils were so heavily tinted with specks of gold that barely any other color remained visible.
When she smiled at me, even her teeth gleamed faintly golden. “I was wondering how long you were going to stand outside before knocking. Come on in, Sydney. I’m Lauringer, as you’ve probably guessed.” She closed the door behind us and motioned me toward a snug kitchen nook with a carved table of raw wood and four matching chairs with thick, green cushions. A set of green glazed canisters were lined up neatly along the length of the table.
“I really appreciate you seeing me,” I told her when I found my voice.
The interior of the cabin spread out in an open design. It was sparsely furnished and filled with soft, warm lighting that left no corner shadowed. The living room furniture, arranged cozily before the sprawling fireplace, was informal. The cushions and the few scattered throw rugs, like the accents in the kitchen, were in shades of green. A wide staircase framed one side of the kitchen nook and led up to an unseen second storey, which I assumed contained the bedrooms.
The kitchen was comfortable and functional. Fat bunches of dried herbs hung from a rack spanning the length of the enormous window above the sink, their pungent aroma permeating the room. Another larger rack hung along the opposite wall, displaying numerous pots of varying size and thickness, some made of copper, some of steel, some of cast iron.
Lauringer went to remove a whistling tea kettle from the stove as I took one of the chairs at the wooden table.
“I must admit that Emily’s description of your plight interested me. It is rare for a human to attempt to escape a death djinn contract. Suicide has been the generally accepted method for many. Would you like some tea?”
I started at her bluntness.
She blinked her strange golden eyes at me, and then they widened in comprehension.
“I’m sorry, Sydney. I’m afraid that I may be a bit lacking in the social graces. You’ve probably been told that I’m something of a hermit. The truth is—I don’t think I’ve had a guest in my home for at least half a century. Please forgive my unthinking comment.”
I cleared my throat. “Uh, I’m feeling a little out of sorts myself. I’ve heard so much about you. My faerie guardian practically worships you.”
She studied me as she dropped teabags into two earthenware mugs and poured steaming water over them. “Milk and honey?”
“Please,” I answered, grateful that I hadn’t had to ask. I was so nervous I probably would have suffered through drinking it bitter if she hadn’t offered.
“So, you have a faerie guardian?” She placed one mug in front of me and settled into the opposite chair with her own. She opened one of the green glazed canisters and scooped out a heaping tablespoon of dense golden powder, which she stirred into her tea before taking a sip.
“Yes,” I said. “I just found out about her a few weeks ago, when this whole death djinn thing started. Her name’s Lorien.”
She noticed my eyes on her hand and said, “You’re probably wondering why I’m wearing gloves. It’s a precaution of my trade. I handle many potent substances which could have decidedly…unpleasant effects if they were to come into contact with my skin.”
Then she smiled. “You’re very lucky to have a faerie guardian, you know. Only a small portion of the human population is chosen. She’ll be the best friend you’ll ever have—don’t take her for granted.”
She sighed and took another sip of her tea. “I’m sure you’ve seen the effect that Ophelia’s decision has had on poor Emily.”
“Yes,” I answered, my brow creasing in a frown. “I was pretty horrified to learn what a couple of centuries without my soul could do to both me and Lorien. I know that getting Balthus discredited is a long shot, but I have to try. Although, I’m not sure where it will leave Emily and Ophelia if I succeed.” I searched Lauringer’s face for her opinion on the matter.
After all, she had been providing Emily with the spell to keep Ophelia intermittently sane.
Her glittering eyes revealed nothing as she continued to study me. “Maybe if you succeed, it won’t only be your contract that is cancelled. And if not—well, a life without your soul is no life at all.”
Lauringer glanced down at the wrapped vial in my hand. “I don’t require payment for my services, you know.”
I looked at her in confusion.
“That vial of immortality,” she explained, “I assume you brought it as payment.”
I stared at the thin, blue and white napkin in dawning amazement. I unwrapped it carefully and set the forest green vial containing the faint glimmer of light on the table between us.
“My friend found this in my penthouse. Balthus was staying there before I moved in, so I suspected it was his. But I didn’t know what it was, or whether it might be dangerous.”
She chuckled and picked up the vial to examine it. “No, it’s not dangerous. And it happens to be extremely valuable. Immortality is a rare and expensive commodity on the death djinn market. Balthus won’t be pleased to have lost it.”
I gnawed my lower lip, my mind churning. “Is it valuable enough to get me out of my contract?” I ventured hopefully.
Her golden eyes turned hard. “Not likely, Sydney. There is very little that would persuade a death djinn to abandon the pursuit of a soul contract. And although immortality is harder to come by than a human soul, I doubt a djinn would consider it an equal trade.
“I do, however, believe that you’re on the right track as far as trying to discredit Balthus. Why don’t you tell me how you think I might be able to help you with that?”
Lauringer folded her gloved hands together on the table top and looked at me expectantly.
I did my best to keep the events in some semblance of coherent order—from the woman in the coma with the unaligned soul, to the goblin with the tattoo on his palm and his possible connection to the Unseelie Court, to the death djinn arrests for possession of other unaligned souls, to the Seelie Police’s inability to trace the souls to their human counterparts or identify the magic that had been used on them.
Lauringer remained silent and expressionless as I spoke. When I was finished, she continued to watch me for a moment, as if coming to a decision.
“I would like to examine the unaligned souls, and in particular, the soul of the woman in the coma.”
“Uh, do you want me to ask my friend at the Seelie Police Department about getting you in to examine them?”
Her face lit with amusement. “That won’t be necessary, Sydney. I am well enough known that I shouldn’t have a problem getting myself in.”
“Right.” I felt my cheeks color. Of course the most powerful mage in the faerie realm didn’t need my connections. “Um, how about the infinity tattoo; does that mean anything to you?”
The humor in her expression died. “I’m sorry, Sydney, I can’t say that it does. And even if you found the goblin that supposedly has this tattoo, he would most likely deny Balthus’ story, and it would be the word of a criminal versus the word of a goblin—neither one being a particularly reliable source.
“Although it shouldn’t matter anyway.” Her jaw clenched and her voice grew agitated. “What I can’t understand is why the police haven’t made more of a move against the death djinns already, with so many of them found in possession of unaligned souls. Of course they’re pleading ignorance—it would be foolish to admit such a thing!”
She took a calming breath.
“I’m afraid I have rather strong opinions o
n this issue,” she said apologetically. “I’ve seen what happens when a death djinn controls a human soul. I’ve watched Ophelia and Emily suffer. And others.
“I will examine the unaligned souls myself to see if I can’t find something that the Seelie investigators have overlooked. But in the mean time, my advice to you is simply to sit tight and keep your guard up. Even without further evidence, the sheer number of death djinns involved should be enough to get a conspiracy conviction against them. And that, in turn, will hopefully be enough to get your contract cancelled.
“You’re strong, Sydney. You can get through this. Just hold out a little while longer.”
Her voice was filled with quiet conviction. And as her eyes held mine, I had the sense that she understood what I was going through, even though she was a stranger to me.
“If I could do something to help you resist them, I would,” she added. “But you probably know by now that the death djinn contract forbids any such interference.”
“Yeah, convenient little clause,” I said with a crooked smile.
“Isn’t it, though?” she replied in a bitter tone. “So how would you feel about accompanying me to the Seelie Police station to take a look at those souls?”
“Now?” I asked, surprised.
“No time like the present,” she answered briskly. She swallowed the last of her tea, then gave me a quick once over and grinned. “You’re a bit of a sight aren’t you? Here, let me fix that. After all, it was my penchant for privacy that put you into such a state.”
Before I could form a response, she reached into one of the green canisters on the table and pulled out a palm-full of fine silver dust. In a single smooth movement she sprinkled it over me, while softly mumbling an incantation. Warmth spread through me, and my clothes shifted against my skin as if they had been disturbed by an ethereal wind.
The dull throb in my toe disappeared, and when I looked down, it was as if nothing had happened to it. There was no trace of blood and my toenail polish looked fresh. My filthy jeans and sandals had also been returned to like-new status.
“Wow,” I breathed. “You should bottle that stuff and sell it. Most women would kill to have something like that on hand. You’d make a fortune.”
Lauringer gave a wry chuckle as she stepped into a pair of navy, high-heeled pumps that had been discarded near the stairs. “I’ve found that fame and fortune can have a way of backfiring on you. Ready, then?”
I nodded, rewrapping the vial of immortality before I stuck it back in my pocket. “Uh, just one more thing. I know you don’t think finding the goblin will help, but just in case, would you be able to tell me how to find the Hell Ride?”
Lauringer’s golden eyes clouded. “Oh, Sydney. You don’t want to do that.”
“You’re right—I probably don’t,” I replied on a mirthless laugh. “But I’d like to know anyway.”
“You remind me a little of myself,” she said softly. “I only hope that your determination doesn’t end up getting you killed…or worse.”
She pursed her lips, looking torn.
“Please,” I requested with quiet resolve.
She sighed in resignation.
“Alright, Sydney. If you insist on pursuing this course, I suppose I can’t stop you. Calling the Hell Ride is frighteningly simple, although only those belonging to the Unseelie Court dare to do so,” she warned.
“During the hour between midnight and one a.m. you must stand in a ‘tween place and recite the following incantation: ‘Unholy Court, I call you this night; Come bear me away in the absence of light; I surrender to darkness as clinging as soot; Light’s goodness lies shadowed and evil’s afoot.’”
“Could I borrow a pen and paper to write that down?” I asked, knowing I’d never remember it correctly.
Lauringer gave me an unreadable look and then snapped her gloved fingers. A green marble pen appeared on the kitchen table next to a small pad of textured paper. I shook my head and smiled, amazed at her casual use of magic, as she bent down to write the incantation for me.
“What’s a ’tween place?” I asked, wedging the folded paper into the pocket with the crystal brooch.
“Places where two realities meet—it can be as simple as a doorway, a window, or even the edge of a shadow, where dark and light meet. But the Hell Ride is no joke, Sydney. The Unseelies delight in the torture of mortals and, although it happens rarely and the incidents are well-concealed, there have been…accidents. By choosing to join them, you surrender a part of your will to them. I would not advise this course of action.”
“Duly noted. I’d probably be too scared to do it anyway.” I grinned.
“You should be.” My grin evaporated at her serious tone.
“Ready?” she asked after a moment.
I nodded again.
Lauringer spoke a single word. One second we were standing in her kitchen, and the next we were standing in the lobby of the Seelie Police Station. I gasped in amazement. Galen, the grizzle-bearded dwarf behind the counter, looked equally shocked.
“Good evening, Master Dwarf,” Lauringer said pleasantly. “I would like to speak with the officer in charge of the death djinn investigation. Please tell him or her that Lauringer wishes to offer her services with regard to the inspection of the unaligned souls. And I would appreciate you making it clear that I am pressed for time and will need to conduct my investigation immediately, if I am to do so at all.”
“Right away, madam,” growled Galen. “We would be honored to accept your offer of assistance.” He bowed from atop his stool, and then hopped to the ground. His head disappeared below the long counter as he hurried toward the door leading to the back offices.
Lauringer grinned at my bemused expression. “Despite my inclination toward privacy, sometimes celebrity has its perks.”
It wasn’t long before the door behind the counter opened again, and Sparrow strode out to meet us. His dark hair was tousled, as if he’d been sleeping, and his button down shirt was absent of its tie. He greeted Lauringer with deferent professionalism, his dark blue eyes registering surprise when they saw me.
I imagined him warm in his bed moments before, and the image was so enticing that I wanted nothing more than to crawl into his arms and join him there. My mouth went dry at the thought, and I gave him a shaky smile. His eyes held mine as he extended his hand to Lauringer.
“Lauringer, I’m Agent Sparrow. I’m the detective in charge of the death djinn investigation. It’s a great pleasure to meet you, and I would personally like to thank you for your generous offer of assistance. I understand that your time is precious and I would be more than happy to escort you to our containment room immediately.”
He gaze roved over my face. “Sydney, I’m glad you’re here. Full of surprises as usual, I see.”
I smirked at him. “Speaking of surprises, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you in private.”
Despite the fact that I wanted to crawl into bed with him, and run my hands through his hair, and explore the tattoos inked into the muscled contours of his chest…I hadn’t forgotten about him sending Galena to spy on me.
“I see you two know each other,” Lauringer observed with a faint smile. “Well, thank you for coming so quickly, Agent Sparrow, and I apologize for disturbing you after hours. When Sydney explained the situation, I felt compelled to come immediately. As you know, magical signatures fade with time. It may already be too late for me to glean any new information from the unaligned souls, but I will do my best.”
“Much appreciated,” Sparrow said with a nod. “Follow me, please.”
He led us through the door into the back room. Only a few of the wooden desks were occupied at this time of night, but the smell of coffee was still thick in the air. It seemed a permanent fixture of the room, an aroma that was probably never absent long enough to fade completely.
One of the desk’s occupants glanced up as we passed, then did a double take at the sight of Lauringer. He nudged his co-worke
r, who nearly fell out of his chair when he realized who she was, and in turn threw a wad of paper at the officer several desks over. She looked up in annoyance, which faded as her eyes widened and then followed Lauringer across the room.
Lauringer either didn’t notice the commotion she was causing, or she simply chose to ignore it.
Sparrow continued down the hallway that led to the outer courtyard. He stopped to unlock one of the doors lining the passage with a long, silver key. Then he pulled it open and flicked on an overhead light to reveal a large, perfectly round room whose dimensions seemed impossible from the outside.
Rows of shelves lined the walls around the entire circumference, the jewel-like twinkle of hundreds of multi-hued crystal vials winking out from their depths, like the hoard of some obsessively organized dragon. The dull gleam of copper and bronze oil lamps added to the effect. Wooden work tables with careful spaces around each one occupied the center of the room. When I stepped inside, the padded floor felt soft and spongy beneath my sandals.
“I’m sure you’re familiar with the procedures and organization of a containment room,” Sparrow said to Lauringer, waiting for her to nod as a formality. “The unaligned souls that have been rescued from death djinn possession are in this area.” He indicated a sprawling section of shelves to our left.
“That many?” I whispered, amazed and saddened at the sheer number of vials there.
Both Sparrow and Lauringer turned to look at me. “I’m afraid so, Sydney,” Sparrow answered quietly.
Lauringer pursed her lips, an angry light filling her golden eyes. “Sydney’s right. The number of unaligned souls you have found is astounding. Which begs the question, Agent Sparrow—what more do you need to prosecute the death djinns for this outrage?”
Sparrow ran an agitated hand through his dark hair and sighed.
“Believe me; I would like nothing more than to see the death djinns prosecuted for this. But certain questions have come to light that must be answered before the case can be satisfactorily closed. King Moab insists that none of his people would deal in unaligned souls and has demanded a more detailed investigation into this matter. And he is not someone that can be ignored—his influence extends to certain high ranking members of the Seelie Court.” He gave Lauringer a pointed look.
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