“Do you have a plan, or are you simply feeling destructive?” I ask mildly. Alejandro looks up.
“You can stop spirits, but how will you know if a human trespasses? This way, you can see footprints.”
“That’s clever,” Jen says with admiration.
“I have to agree. Nice work. Now, let’s go to Wayne’s and plan a battle strategy.”
CHAPTER XVI
The car is quiet on the short trip to Wayne’s in the evening sunset. I mull over today’s events—the barrier denying me entry, the burning of my sketchbook—while anger simmers under the surface. That sketchbook is the only possession I own that I care about. I’ve been carrying around the sketches and paintings in those pages my whole life, in various incarnations. Each depicts a person I’ve loved in the best artwork I could manage at the time. Some are inked on parchment, some are oils on paper, and the whole collection more closely resembles a portfolio than a book, despite my careful binding along the long edge. Alejandro is right, they are still in my memory, but I can’t let go of what’s left of this tangible reminder of their short, sweet lives. My anger comes from fear of losing those mementoes. This isn’t the first time I’ve almost lost them, but it’s the closest.
And why couldn’t I go through the barrier? I know I’m different, but now I wonder in what way.
“Are you okay, Merlo?”
“I’m furious. But I’m not going to melt down again, thanks to you. You knew just what to say. You’re turning out to be a true friend. Your grandfather knew what he was doing when he entrusted you with my secrets.”
Alejandro flushes with pride and his lauvan squirm happily.
“I brought Drew’s gloves with me, from your friend’s store. I thought they might be useful to check the lauvan?”
“Alejandro, that was brilliant.” I’m genuinely impressed at his foresight, especially since he can’t see the lauvan nor fully understand the potential they contain. “I’ll certainly have another look, see if I can sense anything that could be helpful.”
I pull up in front of Wayne’s house, right behind Jen’s little Prius. Jen waits for us next to it. When we join her, she reaches out and hugs me tightly, then holds me at arm’s length.
“Are you okay?” She looks at me searchingly. I muster a half-smile for her, although happiness is the last emotion I feel.
“I’ll be fine. Once we find Drew.”
“What was that book?”
I close my eyes briefly. I don’t have spare energy to lie and Jen deserves better. I procrastinate instead.
“I’ll show you, but not right now. Now, I need to focus on finding Drew.”
She squeezes my arms gently then lets me go.
“Okay, Merry. We’ll talk later.” She’s treating me like a vessel of blown glass, apt to shatter into a million pieces with the wrong provocation.
“Let’s see if Wayne has found anything. And I want to examine those gloves.”
I stride up the garden path to the front door. The others follow behind more slowly, Jen’s murmuring to Alejandro only just audible. I expect they’re talking about me, so I ignore it.
“Wayne, hi,” I say when Wayne opens the door. “Thanks again for putting us up.” After the sketchbook incident, I’m not confident enough in my lauvan barrier to risk staying overnight at the apartment, not until I find Drew.
“No problem. Hey, I might have a lead. Come on in.”
Wayne ushers us into his place, which turns out to be the main-floor suite in an old character house. If one hundred years grants a building “character,” I wonder what nomenclature I qualify for.
“You remember I was going to check out real estate holdings?” Wayne says. “My sister is an agent, but nothing came up with the regular searches. But, she has a friend with a cabin in Hollyburn, up on Cypress Mountain, and there’s a Mordecai who owns a cabin nearby. It’s not a very common name, is it? I’ll have to phone in the morning for more info. But it looks promising.”
“Thanks, Wayne. This is really great, what you’re doing for me.”
He waves off my thanks and points to two couches in the living room.
“There’s the luxury suite, all yours. Make yourselves at home. I’ll get on the phone and see if anyone is still at work.”
Wayne disappears into another room and I sink onto the nearest couch with a sigh. I’m shaky with the aftermath of my loss of control, although I try not to show it. Jen looks concerned enough as it is.
“Pass me those gloves, Alejandro. Let’s see if there is anything new I can glean off them.”
Alejandro digs through his bag and I try to ignore the humming that still rings in my ears, especially noticeable in the quiet house. Alejandro pulls the gloves out gingerly and the humming changes timbre, as if there are two competing hums. Great—will I end up with a whole symphony of noises?
“Wait—can you take the gloves to the hallway and back again?”
Alejandro looks mystified but complies without question. As I suspected, the hum grows quiet with Alejandro’s retreat and increases in volume with his return. I hold my hand out for the gloves.
“What was that about?” Jen says.
“The gloves are humming, in the same way something near me has been humming for the past few days. No, don’t bother listening, only I can hear it. Lucky me.”
“Why would gloves be humming?”
“They probably wouldn’t.” I reach in and carefully extract the fragile gray thread of Drew’s lauvan. The fear and desperation emanating from it are only a faint echo now. The lauvan won’t last much longer.
I’ve never heard a lauvan hum, but I don’t see any other explanation. My eye is drawn to the strange patch of iridescence on the end. I’ve never seen anything like that, either. I run my thumb and forefinger along the thread until they touch the patch.
A sensation takes over, not unlike the feeling I have when I travel down lauvan cables in my mind. I reflexively close my eyes.
My mind’s eye dissolves into a kaleidoscope of color before it settles on a vision of a man lying on the backseat of a small car, its gray seats scuffed and torn in places. He’s asleep, his mousy-brown hair untidy. Glossy gray lauvan intermingle with wispy air lauvan around his body. A cheap watch on his wrist indicates the same hour as does Braulio’s watch, ticking quietly on my own wrist.
I release the lauvan and come back to my body with a gasp. Jen’s consternation is written on her face, and Alejandro leans forward.
“What happened, Merlo?”
“I had a vision. Somehow, touching Drew’s lauvan took my mind to where he is right now.” I pause and connect the dots. “There’s a strange patch of color on his lauvan. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
“What does that mean?” Jen says. She watches my face intently.
“That patch—when I touch it, I can see Drew. And the lauvan hums, which I’ve never encountered before.”
“The humming,” Alejandro says. “You said there are two hums now, one from the glove and the one that has been bugging you all day.”
“Do you think there’s another patchy lauvan?” says Jen. “Wait, does that mean you can see where someone else is?”
“Or can they see where I am?” I say.
“You’re being followed,” Jen whispers. “You think this is how they know where you are?”
“Only one way to check,” I say briskly. I stand and empty my pockets onto the coffee table. Keys, wallet, and phone make a small heap. “See if there is anything odd.”
“What do we look for?” Alejandro says.
“Anything that doesn’t look like mine. They could have planted an object attached to the doctored lauvan on me, although anything is possible, I suppose. I’ll check myself for foreign strands.” I run my hands over my lauvan and Jen bursts into laughter.
“You look like you’re feeling yourself up.”
I wink at her and continue my examination more suggestively for her amusement. She gives an unladylike sn
ort.
“I think I found something,” Alejandro says with repressed excitement. I stop what I’m doing and reach for Alejandro’s open hand. In it is a folded piece of paper. On the front is a smudged lipstick kiss, cherry-red. My heart sinks. Suddenly, I have a very good idea of how I came to be tracked.
Inside is a short air lauvan with an iridescent patch on the tip, as well as a handwritten note in violet ink.
Sorry, Merry, but all’s fair in love and war. Mixing the two is delicious, isn’t it? Anna xo
Wordlessly, I pass the card to Jen, who reads it then tightens her lips.
“You were right,” I say. I rub my temples with one hand. “I was suckered in. As she knew I would be. Dammit!” I pound my fist into the arm of the couch. “I hate being wrong.”
“But you did check her lauvan,” says Jen reasonably. “She managed to hoodwink you, that’s all.”
“That rarely happens, though. I wonder if lauvan-masking is a new skill provided by their spirits-in-residence. I have no idea what they’re capable of, and it’s highly disconcerting.”
“Does this mean that Potestas is behind Drew’s attacks, or are they acting separately, like Anna said?” Alejandro says.
“Can we take anything Anna says at face value?” Jen says.
“Probably not. Either Potestas fully backs Drew’s machinations, or they simply want to keep an eye on me and Drew is exploiting the situation.”
“You saw Drew,” Jen says. Her eyes widen with excitement. “Did you see where he is?”
“No, only the interior of his car.” Hope kindles in my heart, and I sit and pick up the glove again. “Let’s see if anything has changed.”
Again, the swooping feeling transports my mind’s eye to the interior of Drew’s car, where he lies sleeping still. I can’t change my vantage point to look outside the car.
I open my eyes and rub my face in frustration.
“Do you know how your body reacts when you do that?” Jen says. “It’s like you’re not there anymore. I can’t describe it, but it’s not as if you’re sleeping or unconscious. You’re more absent than that.”
“How bizarre,” I say, but my mind is still occupied by the conundrum of finding Drew.
“What about this one?” Alejandro holds out Anna’s note. The air lauvan sways on its perch. I grasp it eagerly and gain a sensation of flight, dizzying swoops and dives, but without the accompanying vision. I open my eyes again, defeated.
“No use. It’s an air lauvan, not one of Drew’s. The path leads nowhere useful.” I slump back into the couch. “I’m running out of ideas.”
We sit in silence for a minute.
“What about that spirituality shop in Steveston?” Jen says. “You said the owner was helpful. Do you think she’d know anything useful?”
“Bethany, Sylvana’s aunt,” I say reflectively. “Perhaps. Even a different perspective might help, and it could be she’s heard something new about Drew through the grapevine. I’ll give her a call.”
“Do you have her number?”
“No, damn. I’ll drive down when her store opens in the morning.”
CHAPTER XVII
Dreaming
“Come, kinsman,” says Arthur. “You and your lady have traveled a long way. Share our midday meal before you leave.”
Mordred still looks angry at Arthur’s refusal to back out of the peace talks with the Saxons, but Vivienne elbows him and answers for them both.
“Thank you. We would be honored to join you.”
I duck my head outside the tent and gesture to a slave girl at the opening of a nearby tent. She nods and disappears inside.
“It’s not much—supplies are limited—but it will fill you,” Arthur says. He waves at woolen blankets strewn on the ground and we make ourselves as comfortable as we can. The slave girl enters with a stack of wooden bowls and a ladle, followed by a boy bearing a cauldron of mutton stew. We all sniff appreciatively.
When Arthur has been served, he turns to Mordred.
“How did you end up as an emissary of my sister, Mordred?”
Mordred scowls but can’t seem to find anything to take offense to. He answers begrudgingly.
“She came to my father’s funeral, last autumn. You were fighting in the east. She was very kind, and offered me a place in her household if I wanted it.”
“I suppose favor dries up when the father of a bastard son dies,” I say through a mouthful of mutton.
Mordred bristles but Arthur waves away my comment.
“So, you joined her. She’s treated you well?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Good. And her policies, do you agree with them? How all the invaders must leave our lands?”
“I will follow the Lady Morgan wherever she leads.”
“That wasn’t an answer,” I say. “Do you agree, or are you mindlessly loyal?”
“Merlin.” Arthur sighs. Surprisingly, my comment does not rile Mordred up.
“Arthur, may I show you something?” Mordred says. “I left it with my horse. I feel it will be illuminating.”
Arthur puts down his empty bowl and stands.
“By all means. Lead the way.”
Vivienne is silent until they leave. When she speaks, she sounds diffident, unsure of herself, which is most unlike her.
“Merlin.”
“Hmm?”
“Can you—can you tell if it’s a boy or a girl?”
I look at her in surprise but she stares into her almost full bowl.
“I’m sorry, Vivienne. I can only see that somebody is in there, not what sort of somebody it is.” I think of Mordred’s explosive anger. “Are you all right, Vivienne? Is Mordred good to you?”
A flicker of contempt at Mordred’s name passes across Vivienne’s face.
“We may have shared a bed for a few months, and he may be the father, but I have no intention of marrying him. No, it’s kind of you to ask, but Morgan will take care of me and the child. She has already promised.”
“Good. I’m not enamored of young Mordred so far.” I put my bowl down on the ground and stand. “Speaking of whom, I’d better see what he and Arthur are doing. I don’t trust him.”
A twitch of Vivienne’s lauvan tells me I am right not to. I race out of the tent in the direction of their horses. What is Mordred up to?
My question is quickly answered. Behind a bank of bushes, Mordred and Arthur grapple. They are evenly matched—Arthur has a few more years of experience, but grappling has never been his strength. They lurch back and forth, but it’s not clear that either will win. I like to let Arthur fight his own battles, but when Mordred draws a dagger, I step in. I yank a handful of his lauvan upward and Mordred sprawls on the ground, blinking in confusion. Arthur leans over him, his face stern.
“That was an unforgivable breach of my hospitality.”
Mordred scrambles up before Arthur can restrain him and runs to his horse. We let him go, because there seems to be little to gain from pursuing him.
“This isn’t over, Arthur.” He spits. “You’re a disgrace to your name and your people. One day we will drive the Saxons out of our lands, and on that day you will beg us for mercy.” He kicks his horse and canters away from camp. We are left in stunned silence. At last, Arthur speaks.
“Mordred has taken my sister’s desire for a Saxon-free land and spun it into a web of vitriol. I don’t believe Morgan is that incensed.”
“Although she did order her troops removed.”
Arthur does not answer.
After Mordred gallops away, I storm toward the tent, heedless of the rain. Inside, the other men chat languidly, relaxed after their meal. Vivienne picks at her stew.
I bend down and grab her shoulder roughly. She looks alarmed and her lauvan dance in agitation.
“Did you know?” I growl. “Tell me, was this Morgan’s will?”
“Know what?”
I shake her shoulder in frustration. She lifts trembling hands in a gesture of surrender.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Merlin. I promise.”
“What’s going on?” Gawaine asks.
“Mordred attempted to kill me,” Arthur answers. “He fled when he didn’t succeed.”
A tumult of chatter breaks out, but my focus is on Vivienne. She wears a disappointed, resigned expression, and her lauvan reflect the same emotions.
“I promise I had no idea of Mordred’s plan, nor do I believe it to be Lady Morgan’s will. Mordred is hot-headed and very sure of his convictions. It doesn’t surprise me that he concocted a foolish scheme like this.”
“Well, Merlin?” Arthur says, his eyes narrowed. “Does she speak the truth?”
I remove my hand from Vivienne’s shoulder and stand.
“She does. Morgan may have a different vision for the future, but I don’t believe fratricide is in her mind.”
“The woman must be lying,” says Gawaine’s brother Gareth. “What shall we do with her?”
Vivienne puts a hand on her stomach in an unconscious gesture to protect her growing baby. Arthur answers before I can.
“She will travel back to her mistress, untouched by us. I will not punish her for her companion’s faults, nor risk the wrath of Morgan’s forces, which are formidable. Better that they fight for no one than against us.” Some of the men look disappointed at the lack of retribution, so Arthur adds, “But should Vivienne or the men she leads attempt any ill while they leave, we will show no mercy.”
A cheer erupts. The men are weary of waiting in the rain and I suspect many hope for a skirmish when Morgan’s men leave. Vivienne is pale but steady.
“Thank you for your decision, my lord. We will leave peacefully.” She stands to depart. Arthur turns to me.
“Accompany her, Merlin. Make sure the departure goes smoothly.”
I nod and follow Vivienne out of the tent’s opening. She dons her cloak and I pull my hood up.
“I advise you and your mistress to both be careful. Arthur may be young, but he’s strong, wise, and has the support of the Gwentish lords.”
“And his own personal sorcerer.” She eyes me sidelong and my mouth turns up.
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