by S. M. Reine
Sophie forgot her melancholy instantly. “Lincoln! How did you get back so quickly? Does time dilate in the Winter Court?”
“She came out as soon as you moved the unicorns,” Lincoln said. He half-smiled, as though he found Sophie’s enthusiasm amusing. He could laugh at her all he wanted. She couldn’t care.
It was not yet time for the adventure to end.
“You found someone pure,” Ofelia said. “That’s how you ‘beat’ the falhófnir. Excellent. Is she as pretentious as Leah too?”
Sophie laughed. “Pretentious? Me?” She was the Historian—benefactor of a rare lineage, protected by the fiercest warriors of mankind, and sole witness to unknown histories. Of course she was pretentious, and proud of it!
“No,” Lincoln said. “Sophie’s not pretentious at all.”
That almost sounded like a compliment. Sophie’s laugh died off. “I’m sorry, but I cannot seem to get the falhófnir further away, and I’m not sure if you two should come too close,” she called back.
“I shouldn’t,” Ofelia said. “These My Little Ponies and I don’t get along.” She sneered at them, and one reared beside Sophie, stamping furiously. “Here’s the problem: Someone’s put an invisible barrier around this bay. Someone put the falhófnir in front of the Veil on purpose.”
“Who besides Titania—Leah—would have the power to do that?” Lincoln asked.
Ofelia’s expression said that she had nobody else in mind. “Come toward us slowly…Sophie, was it? Sophie. Drop the reins and come here. I’m lifting this barrier to free the falhófnir.”
Sophie released the bridles. The unicorns nudged her hands, her shoulders, her face. It was as though they knew that this was goodbye. “Oh, come now,” she said. “You heard me say I dislike goodbyes.” But she could not resist stroking them each in turn before walking up the ridge.
The beasts did not follow.
When Sophie reached the top, Lincoln caught her shoulder, hauling her between himself and the unseelie queen. Ofelia’s presence was a shock of ice similar to standing beside a glacier, and Sophie shivered within her swallow-tailed jacket.
Ofelia pointed. The forest throbbed with a single hard shake, and the falhófnir darted toward the river. They flowed over the rocks and between the reeds. Their hooves didn’t touch water.
Within moments, they had vanished into night.
“Nasty things,” said the queen, wiping her palms on her dress. Each of her fingernails was two inches long with sharpened points. The pinkie was pierced by a delicate golden ring.
“They’re not so bad,” Sophie said.
“Okay.” Ofelia rolled her eyes. “Now that I’m back in business, who exactly are both of you?”
“I’m Sophie Keyes.” She swallowed against introducing herself as the Historian. She hadn’t told Titania, Oberon, or Herne; she would not tell this sidhe either. “I’ve been helping this man.”
“And ‘this man’ is Lincoln Marshall,” he said. “Former sheriff’s deputy and recent recruit to the Office of Preternatural Affairs. Secretary Friederling assigned me to bring Cèsar Hawke to you. He’s manifested faerie powers.”
Worry flitted across Ofelia’s face. “Why were you assigned to bring Cèsar? Why not Isobel or Suzy? Or even Fritz?”
“Secretary Friederling was too weak for the trip, or else I figure he’d have come,” Lincoln said. “Cèsar did something to him. Guess it’d be whatever cait sidhe do.” Lincoln said the words flatly, without attempting an accent, so it sounded like “cat she.”
Ofelia swore in another language before switching effortlessly back to English. “Where’s Cèsar now?”
“He can’t seem to turn back into his human shape anymore, so he’s being protected in Alfheimr.”
“If he can’t turn back, it’s because he didn’t want to turn back. He attacked Fritz.” Ofelia said this as matter-of-factly as though she’d been witness to the incident personally. “Take my hands, reluctant agents of the OPA. We’re traveling the ley lines.”
“Wait,” Sophie said.
Nobody heard her. Ofelia had already grabbed her wrist and stepped through the ley lines. It felt like being sucked up a straw.
The world disappeared.
When she could see again, she was on all fours on floors paneled with dark wood. Lincoln was vomiting beside her.
Queen Ofelia was undisturbed by the jump between planes. “Fritz?”
Her only response was a rhythmic beeping.
Sophie covered her mouth before lifting her head to look around. She was startled to find herself somewhere unmistakably wealthy, filled with heritage furniture that Sophie understood to be uncommon in this era. The oversized bed showed marks of hand tooling; the tables and chairs had matching clawed feet.
Ofelia hovered beside the bed, gazing down at with an expression of mingled horror and pity. “What happened to him?” She was speaking to a woman at the head of his bed.
“This is part of his ongoing decline since the undersecretary attacked him.” The unfamiliar woman clicked her tongue. “It’s a shame. I like to give him a hard time, but I don’t think there’s a better man for OPA secretary than this one. Not sure he can be replaced by anyone half as good.”
Sophie struggled to stand. Once she was upright, she was jarred by the presence of medical equipment—the source of the beeping—and even more jarred to see that it took an entire wall of machines to keep the man in bed alive.
The patient was distinguished, perhaps in his early fifties, with the appealing physical qualities that came from a man crossing his middle years. Blond hair still grew thick, yet began to silver near his hairline. The deep lines on his face only emphasized the strength of his angular features. It was the much-discussed Secretary of the Office of Preternatural Affairs, Fritz Friederling.
“Why can’t you fix him, Edie?” Lincoln had finally stood too, wiping his mouth clean. “Friederling can’t be worse than when my carcass got dragged in your office.”
“I’m a superb healer, but I’m not a miracle worker,” said Edie. “This man is dying without physical injury. What’s there to fix?”
Ofelia tapped her fingernail against her teeth as she studied Fritz. “You’ve done good. You don’t have sidhe magic, though. I can keep him alive longer.”
“With the best medical equipment and the best healing, he’s still a few hours from dead,” Edie said. “I’m not saying you can’t help him. I’m saying it probably doesn’t matter if you can.”
“Then at worst we’re risking a few hours of his life by trying,” Ofelia said. “We have to remove the remaining equipment.”
Sophie helped them disconnect Fritz Friederling from his equipment. He was limp to the manhandling, his skin clammy, but Fritz roused at the brush of Sophie’s knuckles on his ribcage. He coughed, grabbing his chest.
“Where am I? Where—Ofelia.” He spotted Cèsar’s sister and attempted to sit upright. “Ofelia, please tell me that he’s okay. That he wasn’t found.”
Ofelia sank to the mattress at his side, taking Fritz’s hand. “Why wouldn’t he be okay?”
“Another attack,” Fritz said. “Dullahan found me, and…” Only then did he seem to realize that he had other guests. When he saw Lincoln, his expression darkened. He clutched his chest harder. “Did you protect Cèsar?”
“Yes, sir, he’s safe and sound,” Lincoln said. “Ofelia thinks you need to be present to control Cèsar’s powers, but I’m thinking you’re not up for leaping between planes of existence.”
“In this condition?” Ofelia gave a short laugh. “I don’t think so.” She addressed Fritz directly. “It seems that Cèsar’s a cait sidhe. They’re soul-eaters. When he attacked you, he devoured most of your essence.”
Fritz’s lips drew back in a grimace. “If Cèsar were here, he’d probably make a joke about how he’s surprised I had a soul to eat.”
“Damn, that was the exact joke I’d meant to make. Need to be faster next time.” Edie was winding up cords and
pushing away the medical equipment.
“I can’t imagine Dullahan’s visit to my house helped my condition either,” Fritz said. “He attacked the Wooster facility the day after you left, Mr. Marshall. Dullahan’s assault triggered Cèsar’s powers, and in turn led to…” He interrupted himself with a bout of ragged coughing. He dropped back to the pillow paler than before, laboring to breathe. “Dullahan returned looking for someone named ‘Inanna’ and found me. An agent pointed him toward Cèsar in the Summer Court.”
“He’s safe where we left him,” Lincoln said. “I saw him personally. He’s fine.”
Fritz’s eyes drooped. His chest jerked.
Sophie leaped to her feet. “What’s wrong? What do we do?”
“It’s a seizure,” Edie snarled, picking up a large crystal. “This is what I was trying to delay! If I magick him right now—”
“Don’t. I have to suspend him.” Ofelia placed both hands on Fritz’s chest and said, “Step back.”
Magic swarmed over Fritz before the last syllable spilled from the queen’s mouth. Sophie leaped back too slowly, and ice burned across the meat of her hand. She stumbled back with a hiss and nearly fell over.
Large, gentle hands caught her. When Sophie looked up, some part of her still expected to see Omar. Of her guardians, he was the one who’d never failed to catch her. Who had always been warm and steady and present.
Omar was gone. This was only Lincoln Marshall, pulling Sophie away from the bed to a safer distance. The man was no comfort compared to her beloved guardians. Even now he looked cross, as though she had done something wrong by getting an ice-burn.
“You crazy?” Lincoln asked gruffly. “Stay away from the unseelie. Far away.”
“I was trying, thank you very much,” she said. “I don’t require your help.”
Ofelia’s magic engulfed Fritz. He was frozen within an aura of shimmering ice that held him centimeters above the sheets, his expression one of rigid pain, his body immobile.
The shimmer settled, solidified, until Fritz appeared trapped within crystal.
“I don’t know how long that will hold him,” Ofelia said. Her features were drawn and tight. “Even like this, I don’t dare pull him through a ley line. I’m going to have to bring Cèsar to him.” She rounded on Lincoln and Sophie. “This is California, on Earth. I can leave you here if you want.”
Sophie’s heart leaped. “No.”
Lincoln surprised her by saying, even more firmly, “No. I’m gonna see this out.”
“Then brace yourselves,” Ophelia said.
She grabbed them both and jumped.
The world folded.
It felt like standing on the crease of paper as someone brought the corners to touch. The sky doubled and tripled in width, the ground turned to a sliver underneath Sophie’s feet, and she felt her mind break in the middle.
Then it all snapped back.
When Sophie collapsed again, it was on a wooden deck kilometers from the estuary, and she was surrounded by naked gentry rather than wild unicorns. Lincoln landed beside her an instant later. He reeked of unicorn blood. He was still clinging to that broken horn.
“You all right?” he rasped.
“Are you?” Sophie asked.
“Leah Marie Todd! Get your ass off that throne!” Ofelia stepped over Sophie’s legs to march across Alfheimr’s deck, the cobwebs of her skirt slithering across the wooden planks.
The court’s gentry napped in the post-ritual bliss that followed orgiastic acts of magic, but they quickly began awakening at the sound of Ofelia’s voice. One by one, heads lifted from their lovers’ bosoms, and Sophie was exposed to far more naked people than she’d ever wanted to see in one place at a time.
Titania and Oberon were curled up across the throne of vines, which appeared to have grown to accommodate both of their supine forms. The king was awake the instant his eyes fell on the Queen of the Winter Court. “Ofelia!”
Sophie wasn’t sure what reaction she expected to Ofelia’s arrival, but the warm embrace wasn’t it. King and queen hugged, kissed, and stroked each other’s faces.
When Titania stood, her expression was a lot chillier. “Ofelia. Wow. Hello. It’s so great to see you. Great and surprising.”
“Cut the crap, Leah. I know you locked me out of the court. Is this because of our fight?” Ofelia asked. Her fingers tracked down Titania’s arm, tracing from her fleshy quadriceps to the delicate jut of her wrist bone.
“Not just because of that,” Titania said, drawing back. Invisible barriers seemed to be abundant in the Summer Court; Sophie had no trouble feeling the one that appeared between the queens.
“We can discuss this later.” Ofelia’s gaze tracked over the deck, taking in the sight of the stirring sidhe. “You’re partying when my brother’s sick?”
Titania’s white skin turned unflatteringly red on her chest and face. “We’re doing everything that we can for him.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Ofelia said. “Bring him to me. Now.”
CHAPTER 18
Cèsar felt the moment that his sister crossed into his world.
His world. What a weird thing to think.
What was his world? What was it to live without iron chains burrowing ever deeper toward his bones? Was there life outside of these four walls?
This was a dungeon. Cèsar had read enough fantasy novels to recognize it, even when trapped by the most frightened animal parts of his mind. The shackles were made of iron. The windows were barred. He thought that human-sized shadow in the corner was an iron maiden, like the torture device rather than the band.
He had come seeking help. Instead they punished him.
Now he was trapped here, far away from his girlfriends and Fritz and the reborn world he’d committed to helping. For fuck’s sake, Cèsar couldn’t even help himself.
The door was still open, after all.
There were guards in the hallway, but they were sitting on a bench together, sharing grapes, drinking wine, and laughing. They wouldn’t be capable of stopping Cèsar if he walked out. They didn’t seem to want to.
Cèsar lunged at them again, pulling his chains tight. He wanted to say, “Hey, please let me out, I don’t like this. Also I’m bored and lonely. Can I have some grapes?”
The only thing he managed to do was snarl. The guards looked at him with open disdain, shaking their heads.
“The dude’s deranged,” muttered one to the other.
The king said that Cèsar could change back if he wanted. Like this was somehow his choice. Like he wanted to be a beast of claws and wisps and overwhelming fear, trapped within chains that never stopped burning.
What if I never turn back?
That was the thought that frightened him the most.
Both guards suddenly leaped to their feet and drew swords as long as their arms. Since Cèsar had Rebirthed as a fucking faerie, he could tell the blades gained solidity from the earth below and sky above, connecting the elements. Magical blades for magical creatures.
“Holy shit,” said the one with sea foam hair. “Get out! Now, before we—”
He didn’t get to issue a threat beyond that. A whip lashed around his throat—a whip made of jointed, glossy white bone—and yanked him away from the bench.
All Cèsar heard was wet splattering. A few emerald drops sprayed the wall.
“Good God!” The other guard tried to run. The whip caught his ankle, jerked him off his feet, and dragged him away.
Silence.
Cèsar struggled against the chains. He knew who’d attacked long before Dullahan Daith stepped into the doorway, sucking sense out of the world and leaving behind fear.
“Hello Inanna,” said Dullahan. “You must face justice, and if you do not come out, Dullahan will peel you open.”
Cèsar tried to roar a fearsome roar, but it came out as a whine. He backed up until his chains would allow him to back no further. The iron cut into his muscle, tore into his flesh, and he still tri
ed to keep getting away.
There was no escaping Dullahan.
One of his hands extended toward Cèsar’s face.
It grew until his fingers arched over Cèsar’s feline form, severing iron chains from wall. Then the fist closed around him.
He felt nothing but fear.
He saw nothing but darkness.
Five people relocated to Titania’s bedrooms: three members of sidhe royalty, one blood-drenched former deputy, and Sophie Keyes. She felt invisible among the rest of the group. Just one woman sitting on a bench at the edge of history, forgotten but observant.
“You should get cleaned up. Falhófnir blood’s nasty.” Oberon handed a stack of towels to Lincoln. “Shower’s in there.”
Lincoln slipped into the bathroom, and Sophie expected to be dismissed as well, giving the royalty space to speak in private.
Instead, Ofelia sat on the bench beside Sophie, allowing her skirts to spill across the floor. “Let me get this straight,” Ofelia said to Titania. She counted items off on her fingers one by one. “You put my brother in captivity. You blocked the Veil so I couldn’t get back. You knew that Fritz Friederling had been attacked by a cait sidhe, but you left him without healing. And you did all of this because—why? Because I expected a straight answer about NKF?”
“Do you really think I’m that petty?” Titania asked.
“We’ve been friends too long for me to think you’re not.”
The Summer Queen scoffed. “I can’t believe you. Talking to me in my palace like this. Did it occur to you that might be the issue? That you shouldn’t act like the queen in my house, my kingdom? Call it ridiculous, but I need control, and to be recognized by my people. They were turning to you for leadership. You’ve got your own court to worry about, and if I don’t get comfortable—”
“You’re hiding something,” Ofelia interrupted. “NKF told you something. You don’t want to tell me what it is, and you’re uncomfortable having me here. After everything we’ve done together. After everything we’ve been through. Fine! Get my brother right now, and I’ll be gone.”