“What set him off?” Michele asked from where she had collapsed in a chair.
“The goddamned shields.” I flung my athame onto the table in fury. “Grayson, who the hell designed them like that, to throw his own power back at him?”
“I don’t know,” the professor replied grimly. “But I intend to find out. I should have inspected them more carefully myself, but I just took them over as a unit and didn’t examine all the components.”
“They shouldn’t have been on him in the first place.”
“I realized that at the same time you did. I’m sorry it took so long to take them down, but they were designed to prevent easy removal.” She snorted in disgust. “Flagrant stupidity. I will speak to that doctor of his.” I wouldn’t have wanted to be in that man’s shoes, not with Grayson in this kind of mood.
“Why did the shields send him over the edge?” Geoff asked.
I exchanged looks with Liesel and Robert. When Julian’s mind blazed into life, we’d caught some of what drove his fury, but not all. “He doesn’t like to be confined. In any way. Particularly when someone’s trying to stop him from using his gifts. It’s something that dates back a long time, I think. Before now he was too far in retreat to realize those shields were there, but our healing woke him up.” My eyes flicked to Grayson. “I told you not to tie him down again. That applies to this too.”
The others gaped to hear me give orders to a professor, but she was nodding. “I understand. And if I have to flay that man alive to have my instructions followed, I will. We do not need a wilder on a killing rampage.”
“Leave him in peace and I think it’ll be okay.” The adrenaline was fading now, and weariness dragged at me. Up before dawn, then reading Julian, then having my world flipped on its head, then this. Forward momentum was the only thing keeping me together and on my feet, and it was almost gone. Once I told Grayson about Falcon, then I could go home for a panic attack or sleep, whichever won.
So I gathered my frayed nerves and held back from the rest as they headed for the door. “Professor Grayson, could we speak with you for a moment?”
Liesel heard me and stopped, but a slight shake of Robert’s head sent her on. She’d have plenty of questions later, I was sure. “Certainly, Kimberly,” Grayson said. “Come with me; you’ll both need some food after that effort.” We followed her through the hospital. Five minutes later, all three of us were supplied with fruit drinks and granola bars, and we settled down in a deserted waiting room.
“Now, what did you want to discuss?” Grayson asked.
I glanced around. No one in sight, and this wasn’t a high-traffic area. We might as well talk here as anywhere. No place was right for this kind of bombshell. “I know what happened to Julian.”
Grayson leaned back in her plastic chair, eyebrows raised. “All right. I’m listening.”
Robert watched me as I opened and shut my mouth a few times. Damn him; this wasn’t easy. The bald truth would be best, but it took me three tries before I could say it. “He was attacked by the sidhe. The Otherworld is returning.”
Silence. In the distance I could hear a faint beeping and the rattle of a gurney. Grayson’s face was completely expressionless.
“Go on,” she said at last.
Go on? That was all? The woman was unreal. “I guess I should start at the beginning.” I took a deep breath, than plunged into the story, from Samhain onward. Grayson let me recite it in my own time, watching me without moving. One disappearance after another; I filled in the holes as best I could, explaining what the Unseelie had done, and how the Seelie had counteracted it. “You remember me saying someone else helped him—that was them. They freed him, and brought him back here.”
She might have been suspicious, disbelieving, astonished, hungry. I couldn’t read anything from her dark face or eyes, and she let as little slip empathically as Julian did. “So how did you learn this? You didn’t know any of it when you were here earlier.”
“No, I didn’t.” I took another deep breath. Almost done. My voice shook when I told her about Falcon, and Robert shifted as if he wanted to lend moral support but didn’t know how. “On Samhain, they became able to touch our world, though only a little,” I finished. “According to him, on the solstice the way will open fully, and this won’t just be Welton’s problem any more.”
There. I’d said it all, and now the problem was in Grayson’s hands.
She closed her eyes, sitting perfectly still. Robert and I glanced at each other, then back at her.
“And they say First Manifestation almost destroyed the world,” she whispered.
I hadn’t even thought that far. There wouldn’t be the chaos of out-of-control gifts—at least I hoped not—but those had only accounted for some of the deaths; many others were lynchings, baselines lashing out at bloods, the source of their problems. One half of the world trying to murder the other. Would we band together against the Unseelie, or rip ourselves apart again?
Shit. I hadn’t explained that part.
“Falcon said he came to warn us, too,” I added. “He didn’t know what the Unseelie had been trying to do to Julian, but he said they want to use us against the Seelie. And he said we’d better find a way to stop them, fast, or we’d find ourselves their slaves.”
“I see,” Grayson said. Her eyes were open now, but she wasn’t looking at me. “Did he say anything else?”
My mind skimmed through the conversation. “He’s coming back. I don’t know when exactly, but he said they—the Seelie—would want to know how Julian was doing.”
Grayson was motionless, staring off into space. I fought the urge to wave one hand in front of her eyes to break her trance.
“Very well,” she said at last. “Go home and rest.”
Both Robert and I stared at her. “That’s it?” he asked in astonishment. “Nothing more?”
Her look was frosty. “What more do you want me to say?”
“It would be reassuring to have some idea of what you intend to do.”
“Are you going to tell the University administration?” I asked.
“No,” Grayson said. “Not yet. And you’re both under orders not to speak of this to anyone until I say you may.”
“Who will you tell?” Robert demanded.
She was taking our less-than-respectful behavior remarkably well. Probably she was still too stunned by our news to even notice. “The Guardian Ring.”
“Guardian Ring?” Robert echoed, annoyance replaced by curiosity.
Grayson nodded. “Our guiding body.”
Of course. Grayson might no longer be in active service, but she undoubtedly still had connections among them, and they were the perfect ones to tell. And I wasn’t surprised that they had some kind of governing authority. Why the hell was Grayson telling us this, though? I had a strong feeling it fell into the category of Guardian affairs not talked about outside the profession. She must be severely unsettled by our news to let something like that slip. Not that I blamed her for being in shock. It made her a little more real.
Her reverie was fading; she fixed both of us with a sharp look. “You will not speak of that, either. Tell no one anything until I give you permission. And behave as normally as possible—do your work, don’t be conspicuously absent from classes. If I find you’ve disobeyed me, the consequences will be severe. Am I understood?”
We nodded, Robert almost managing meekness. It was hard to be anything else, with Grayson in full command mode.
“So,” she continued. “As I said, you should rest. We all should. I’ll speak with you again before long.”
~
Waking was like swimming upward through tar. Drugs weighted down his body and mind, clinging, heavy, making everything slow and hard. Julian fought his way through the lethargy and at last managed to open his eyes.
Smells, sounds, the harsh feel of the sheets against his skin—he was in a hospital. He’d known that, but hadn’t known if it was true until now. So much of what came before it hadn’t been real.
His mind reached out reflexively, checking. It encountered the smooth barrier of a shield, and without thinking, Julian gathered force and punched through it.
He flinched in pain as it shattered. Thin, hardly any substance to it at all; the thing had just been there to protect a raw part of his mind. He sensed others now, equally fragile, layered all over him.
“I wouldn’t recommend doing that again.”
Julian struggled against the weight of the drugs to turn his head to the side. Focusing his eyes was difficult, but he made out a dark, white-haired figure standing by the monitors at his side. Grayson.
“The only shields on you are there to help you heal,” the professor said. “You’d be wise to leave them alone.”
He would trust that—for now. Not that he had much choice. “What happened?” Julian whispered. His throat couldn’t manage anything louder.
Grayson regarded him steadily, one hand resting on the bedside rail. “You have dedicated friends,” she said at last. “One in particular. Kimberly Argant-Dubois. She’s an interesting young woman.”
Kim. Julian remembered her presence.
So that was one of the real things.
“They’ve done some mind-healing on you,” Grayson went on. “Her, and the rest of her Circle. Not much; they aren’t fully trained. But enough to put you back together.” Her gaze sharpened. “They also told me what you’ve been doing.”
At her words, he realized that he knew what she meant. Not just in a general sense; he remembered. The holes in his mind had been filled again, though he wasn’t quite ready to examine their contents in detail yet.
“The sidhe,” he said.
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes. “I would have told you. But I didn’t remember.”
A pause, before she answered. “I believe you. But we’ll need to talk, once you’ve recovered more.”
That would be an interesting conversation. As much as he hated to admit it, though, Julian knew she was right; he was in no state to attempt it yet. The chemicals flooding his system were only part of it. He felt battered, physically and mentally, to the point that even lifting his hand was an effort.
“You should rest,” Grayson said. Julian opened his eyes again and nodded. “There will be a nurse in to check on you. They have care of your physical condition. At the moment, I’m in charge of your psychic condition. As I said, right now, the only shields on you are there for your protection. My intention is to keep it that way.” She gave him a measuring look. “Don’t give me a reason to change my mind.”
Fear spiked through the haze of the drugs, and his fingers dug into the stiff sheets. “I won’t.”
The professor nodded. “I didn’t think you would. I have noticed your interest in my shielding classes, and it isn’t hard to guess why.”
Julian held his breath. There was no law saying he couldn’t study the subject, and other people, ones with more authority over him, knew what courses he’d taken; Grayson couldn’t be the first person to put the pieces together. If she chose to make an issue of it, though….
She didn’t. At least not for the moment. “I’ll be back later,” Grayson said, and left the room.
Alone except for the machines monitoring his every heartbeat and breath, Julian sagged back against the pillows, drained even by that short talk. There were things he needed to worry about—if not Grayson, then other things, like the memories that had been returned to his mind—but he was appallingly weak, and unstable to a frightening degree. Too much of his self-control had broken under the strain. He had to get that back.
Step one was to rest, and hope that sleep restored him. After that … he would deal with it when it came.
~
The sunlight felt strange on my face as I stood at the edge of the Arboretum. Had the past few days been cloudy, or had I been out mostly at night? Maybe it was the events themselves that made the days seem dark.
I dusted snow off a large granite rock and sat down to eat the muffin I’d picked up in the dining hall. The chill breeze nipped at my cheeks, but I needed the fresh air to wake me up; I’d slept like the dead after the healing circle. I sat in the morning sunlight and tried to release tension from my shoulders. When I was done, I decided, I’d call the hospital again. As of a few hours ago, Julian had still been sleeping, but he might be awake now.
I wondered what I would say to him if he was.
He’d let me touch his mind. Not like after his shielding exam, when he was in control of himself and what I saw; this was real vulnerability. But despite being crazed to the point of violence, he hadn’t hurt me.
He trusted so few people—me, Robert, Liesel to an extent. Some wilders, surely. I felt, instinctively, that he would not have allowed even Robert to do what I had done.
It wasn’t that my feelings had changed, so much as I’d finally realized—finally admitted to myself—what they were. Had been for a long time, maybe. But the evidence on hand wasn’t enough for me to be sure he saw our connection the same way. There was a gap between us still, and I suspected I’d have to be the one to bridge it. That, or live forever wondering.
But did I have the nerve?
My surroundings were incongruously peaceful, few students out and about, the snow muffling all sound, as if there were nothing to fear in all the world. And with Grayson in charge of the problem, I could breathe again, knowing the burden dropped on me last night was no longer on my shoulders. I finished off the muffin and closed my eyes, drinking in the scant warmth of the sun to counteract the cold.
There was no sound to warn me, but with my nerves wire-tight, the inhuman presence was enough.
Leaping to my feet, I thrust one hand in my coat and pulled out my athame. I didn’t have the first clue how to use it in combat, but if it came to that I could always try. The person standing awkwardly in the snow, however, wasn’t Falcon, nor one of the Unseelie.
It was Julian.
He stared blankly at the knife in my hand. I threw it to the ground next to my bag, then flung myself at him.
The move was instinctive, and for one heart-stopping instant I wondered if it was wrong. But Julian didn’t recoil from my hug. My hands on his back could feel every rib, every vertebra, the bones of his shoulders barely concealed beneath a thin layer of muscle. No coat to get in my way; he’d freeze, at this rate. He didn’t even try to disguise the way he leaned on me for support. Instead he buried his face in my hair and stayed there. I could feel him trembling. He must have walked here from the hospital, the fool.
“You’re all right,” I whispered, stupidly. No he wasn’t, but he was here, and awake. It felt like a miracle. “I was so afraid … you were gone. I didn’t know if we’d ever get you back.”
“I’d retreated into myself,” he said into my hair. His body tensed at the memory. “It was the only way to stay sane. But I couldn’t tell what was real and what was a trick—not until I heard your voice. That brought me out again.” He shifted his weight. I took the cue and released him so he could step back and look me in the eye. “I can’t believe you risked it.”
“I had to,” I replied without hesitation. Meeting his gaze was easier, now that I’d locked eyes with a sidhe. Julian was mostly human, after all. “I was the only one who could. Right?”
He didn’t answer, but the way he averted his face told me I was right. And it gave me hope. I waited a moment, offering him the chance to speak, but his breath only caught, softly. I had to be the one to reach across that gap—reach, and hope there would be a hand waiting to take mine on the other side.
Now isn’t the time, the cautious side of me insisted. Not with what he’d just been through. But we might yet go through worse—far worse. If I didn’t speak now, who was to say I’d get another chance?
“I would have done it for a friend,” I said, fighting for and not quite reaching a casual tone. “But you’re more to me than that. Stupid of me to not see it before, but I guess sometimes I have to be beaten over the head with something before I’ll admit it’s there.” I needed to stop rambling and just say it. “I had to almost lose you to realize that I love you.”
Julian’s whole body went stiff. It was as if a stone wall had slammed down between us, cutting everything off. I caught just one glimpse of his bleak expression before he turned away. “Don’t say that.”
My breath froze in my chest. “What?”
He shook his head, a quick, tight motion. “Don’t say that you love me. I don’t love you.”
The abyss opened up beneath me, and I was falling. No hand to catch me. I’d thrown myself out there and come up short, because I was wrong; I didn’t understand him like I thought I did.
Or did I?
I swallowed carefully, clearing my throat of the tears that threatened. In front of me, the rigid back, the taut line of his shoulders. I’d been seeing more and more of those lately, as Julian turned away from me again and again. And I knew why he did it.
To hide something.
“Really,” I said. My voice achieved exactly the dryness I was hoping for. “Let’s talk about that.”
No reaction from him. I was determined to provoke one, though, to see once and for all if I was right about what lay behind the barriers. This had suddenly become the most important issue in the world. We couldn’t go on, couldn’t face the sidhe and the possible end of the world, without some kind of resolution.
So I spoke, my gaze unblinking on his back. “Let me tell you what I know. Wilders are notoriously jumpy, and you’re as bad as the worst of them. But when your conscious control was gone, you didn’t harm me. You didn’t even try. In fact, you turned to me for help and comfort. My voice led you back; you said that yourself. You let me into your mind.”
Still no movement from him, although his shoulders were growing more tense by the second. “So I know you trust me. What else do I know? That you’ll do whatever you think you have to—no matter how much it hurts you. Sometimes even if it hurts somebody else. You’re not an asshole, Julian; you wouldn’t be this cold to me if you didn’t think you had a reason. You’re trying to drive me off. I think it’s because you do love me, but you’re afraid to say so. Why?”
His hands clenched into fists at his sides. He was trying to shield, but for once he was failing; that legendary control had cracked, betraying a tangled, roiling mass of conflicting emotions. Fear dominated. “Are you afraid you’ll hurt me?” I asked, honestly baffled. “We’ve already proved you won’t. I know your power, and I’m not afraid of it. And if it’s some bullshit about—oh, how you’ll be a Guardian and die young, or whatever, have the decency to let me decide what I think of that. And I say it’s no reason to quit before we start.”
Gods above, was I going to have to hit him to get a response? I’d run out of arguments. I said wearily, “Or if you can’t do that, at least respect me enough to tell the truth. Lying isn’t going to protect me, Julian.”
“I’m not protecting you!” He spun to face me and grabbed my shoulders, hands clamping down like vises. Julian’s eyes met mine, and for once it wasn’t his sidhe blood that made me flinch. Then his head dropped, and his hands relaxed. His voice was softer, almost inaudible. “I’m protecting myself. She said the one I loved would be lost. I couldn’t live with myself if I brought that on you. So I can’t love you.”
In all the twisted logic I’d imagined, I hadn’t gotten anywhere near that.
I reminded myself to breathe. “Julian, it doesn’t matter what you say. All that matters is what you feel here.” I placed one hand on his chest, and failed to suppress the shiver that ran through me when I felt his heart beating under my fingertips. “Even your control isn’t that good. You can’t just decide what you’re going to feel—and I don’t want you to. You love me, and I love you. We’ll deal with the rest later.”
Then, with courage I hadn’t realized I possessed, I put two fingers under his chin, tilted his face up, and kissed him.
This time the shiver ran clear down to my toes, and only a little of it was the sidhe blood talking. Julian let me kiss him, at first, standing motionless as stone; then, hesitantly, he responded. The fine bones of his face warmed beneath my cold fingers and I knew, without telepathy, that this was new. In his driven, focused, monk-like life, he’d never let himself indulge in something as simple as kissing a girl.
When our lips parted, he leaned on me again, and I waited for my heart to slow down. “Kim,” he began.
“Don’t.” I hugged him a little harder to stop the words. “It’s not on your head. I make my own choices, Julian; don’t rob me of that. If I’m in danger because of this, I’ll deal with it.” That reminded me of his exact wording, and I voiced the question I would have asked sooner, if I hadn’t been distracted by more pleasant things. “Who the hell told you that, anyway?”
“One of the—” He cut it off.
Pulling back enough to look at him, I nodded. “One of the sidhe. I had a visit from one last night—some guy calling himself Falcon.”
Julian closed his eyes, looking wearied, and worried. “Her name was Shard, or so she said. They don’t give us their real names. But she’s a visionary, a seer. Flint told me her prophecies are always true.”
That made me snort. “Do you know what Madison always says on the first day of intro divination? ‘There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies, and prophecy.’ I’m in danger, sure, but I’ve been warned now. And I have no intention of being ‘lost.’”
A wavering smile crossed his face. “I hope not.”
“Kim!”
We both almost leapt right out of our skins. Had I really spent the last three months being startled at every turn, or did it only feel that way? But it was only Liesel, standing at the base of the hill.
“Go ahead,” Julian said. “I’m due before the Dean and company soon—supposedly to explain where I’ve been this time. Which should be interesting.”
He didn’t know what we’d done last night. “Julian—Grayson knows. Robert and I told her about the sidhe. But I don’t think she’s told the Dean.”
He nodded, already looking more collected, more his usual self, than he had when he appeared. “She’s a good choice. Probably the only one. Thanks for the warning; I’ll bear that in mind when I meet with them.”
“Find me for dinner. If they don’t roast you alive.”
Julian nodded. Then, in a swift and unexpected movement, he pressed his lips to my hand, holding it clasped in both of his for a moment longer before turning and making his slow way down the path.
“I saw that,” Liesel said when I skidded to the hill’s base.
“Saw what?” I asked innocently.
She had to jump to catch up with me. “Julian. And you. Together. And him kissing your hand.” I couldn’t restrain a grin. “I take it certain things have finally been said?”
“Have they ever.”
Liesel waited, but I didn’t go on. “Don’t I get to hear any more?” she demanded.
“No,” I said cheerfully.
“Kim! That’s not fair!”
“And who says life is fair?” I grinned mockingly at her, then slowed my walk so she no longer had to half-jog. “We … said things. Good things.” Mostly. I ignored the memory of Shard’s prophecy. Liesel didn’t even know about the sidhe; I couldn’t drop that on her.
“Is he better, then?” She always knew when to stop pushing. “Or is this just a temporary parole?”
“I’m not sure. He’s going to meet me for dinner tonight, provided he’s not flayed alive by the Dean, so either they’ve released him from the hospital or he’s decided on his own that he’s spent long enough there.”
“I know which one I’d bet on. But if he’s up to it, then you can ask him some questions tonight.”
“Exactly.” I hoped he was up to questioning. Liesel wanted answers, but she had no idea just how badly we needed them.
~
“My memories are back,” Julian said.
Robert and I both stopped what we were doing to stare at him. The three of us had brought our trays up to their room from the Kinfield dining hall; this wasn’t a conversation we could have in public. Nor in front of Liesel. I felt bad about it, but let her believe I was eating with Julian alone.
“The Seelie must have returned them before they put me back here,” he added.
I sat down with my tray, but didn’t touch my food. “And?”
He shrugged. “More or less what we knew already.”
“That cannot be all,” Robert said. “For the love of the gods, man, you were in the Otherworld. Surely you have something to say about that!”
Julian’s gaze was distant—almost puzzled. When he spoke, the words came haltingly. “I … I can’t describe it. If you look directly at it, it’s not much different from here. It has grass and trees—lots of trees—like this place. The plants aren’t exotic. But there’s a strangeness to it, seen out of the corner of your eye, that makes your hair stand on end. You know it isn’t your own world.”
“Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more,” I murmured.
“Exactly,” Julian said. “As if you’ve lived your whole life in a world with certain colors, then suddenly Nature’s painting with a different palette. Things are still green, and blue, and red, but they’re not the same.” He shook his head. “Words can’t describe it.”
I remembered Falcon’s inhumanly green eyes, and thought I understood.
“What else, though?” Robert asked. “How did you pass from one to the other?” A wry smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “Did a door open in the side of a hill, or was it a transporter beam from on high?”
Julian shook his head. “No. For one thing, it’s not that easy. The Unseelie were trying to pull me through on Halloween, but it was too soon. The worlds were too far apart. They might have succeeded if it hadn’t been for Kim, but her interference was enough to stop them—then.”
“We tried to stop them this last time, though,” Robert said. “All three of us together. Have the worlds moved that much?”
“The summoning circle,” I whispered.
Robert blinked at me. “Pardon?”
I stared at my food, all appetite gone. “A summoning circle makes it easier to bring something to you, whether it’s an object, or an imp, or the spirit of a dead person—whatever. Right?” Robert was staring at me. Did he think I hadn’t learned anything last term? “It thins the boundary between that place and another. Which means….”
Robert went white around the mouth. “Dear gods. We handed them your head on a platter.”
Julian’s face was impassive. No doubt he figured this out a while ago, and hadn’t said anything. I supposed it wasn’t entirely our fault. The first time, when the Seelie took him, it was all his own doing.
Not that I felt any better, thinking that.
Neither Robert nor I said anything. After a moment Julian bent and applied himself to his food, seeming not to care what he ate so long as he ate something.
We continued in silence. I had plenty of questions, but one in particular weighed on me. I couldn’t bring myself to ask it, though. Not after seeing the damage left behind.
So Robert asked it for me. “What did they do to you?”
He didn’t have to specify. Julian’s fork paused above his rice, then lowered slowly. “I don’t know. Not for certain. I’ll have to ask Falcon to be sure.”
“It looked like they tried to rip you in half,” I said.
I regretted the words the instant Julian closed his eyes. He released his fork abruptly. “That’s what it felt like.” He laughed, a black sound. “But only some of the damage you saw was from that. When it failed … they weren’t happy.”
My stomach twisted as I realized what he meant. The rage they must have felt upon failure, vented against their helpless prisoner … gods, Julian had to live with that memory.
“And then the Seelie freed you,” Robert said, mercifully breaking both of us from our thoughts.
Julian opened his eyes and nodded. “I have no idea how. I wasn’t very aware of my surroundings by then. I didn’t always realize I was no longer with the Unseelie.” He raked his hair back, grimacing. “I think I owe some of the Seelie an apology. I seem to recall attacking quite a few of them.”
My mind called up inescapable images of Julian’s torn mind. We’d repaired some of it, but by no means all. We’d just splinted things so healing could happen. “Would you consider allowing Liesel to help you? I know she’s not fully trained, but once she knows more about what happened—”
“No,” Robert said, cutting me off. “We do not tell her.”
“But she—”
Robert shook his head emphatically, before I could explain. “We tell no one. As per Grayson’s orders. Also as per our discussion, or have you forgotten that?”
“Are you calm?” I asked.
Robert blinked at the non sequitur. “I beg your pardon?”
“Are you calm? Do you feel no fear, no stress, no worry that you’re going to turn a corner and find the Unseelie waiting?” I went on almost before he shook his head. “Of course not. And maybe Liesel can’t read Julian, but she can sure as hell read us. You leak, Robert, and so do I. We’re not going to be able to hide our emotions from her.”
“She need not know their source.”
“So you’d have her suffer in ignorance?” The mere thought was enough to make me angry. “That would break her. And I’m damned if I’ll do that to my roommate. If she has to deal with my emotional turmoil, she deserves to know why.”
“But Grayson—”
“For all Grayson knows, Liesel knew already.” I met him stare for stare. We would need Liesel’s emotional stability in the coming days, and we’d only have it if she knew what was going on. “She’s strong, Robert. We can rely on her.”
Robert turned to his roommate for help. “What say you?”
Julian hesitated, his face unreadable as he looked at me. I bit my lip. He was so close-mouthed, he would never—
“I trust Kim,” Julian said. “If she thinks Liesel should know, we tell her.”
Warmth spread to my fingertips. Robert stared at him, then at me. Had Julian told him anything of what we’d said that afternoon? I had a feeling not, and wondered if he would. Or if Robert would guess on his own, blind though he could be.
“I do not like it,” Robert said, as if his views weren’t already clear.
“Tell Liesel,” Julian said to me. “But I don’t need her help—though I appreciate the offer.”
I opened my mouth to say that yes, he did need the help, but stopped myself. It was his mind. He could deal with it in his own way.
Besides, Liesel didn’t know anything yet. We’d see if she was in any condition to help anyone after I told her.
~
Liesel stared sightlessly at the floor. The silence in our room was unbroken by even the ticking of a clock; all of ours were digital. A sudden burst of laughter in the hallway came like a thunderclap, but Liesel didn’t seem to hear.
From time to time she shook her head, perhaps in disbelief, and opened her mouth as if to say something, but each time bewilderment overcame her again and she remained silent. I watched her anxiously and wondered what was going through her head. Was she panicking? Praying? I’d told Robert she was strong, but still….
“Wow,” Liesel said finally. She shook her head again, slowly, and made a sound that wasn’t really laughter. “Wow. I can’t even think of anything more intelligent to say.”
“I know exactly how you feel.”
She fell quiet again. I studied her before speaking. “Any questions?”
“Millions,” she said. “But none of them will resolve into something coherent enough to be asked. Give me a second; I think my brain is still struggling to swallow.”
“Take as long as you like. I’ve had a day and a half, but that’s not nearly enough.” My snort was bitter. “I doubt a year would be enough.”
Liesel got up and paced the length of the room in uncharacteristic distress. “The thing that scares me the most is, we have no idea what they can and can’t do. Or what their weaknesses are. How are we supposed to fight them?”
We weren’t supposed to do anything; that was Grayson’s job. Still, I agreed with Liesel. Having almost no intelligence on our enemy wasn’t a great way to start a war—or prevent one.
And at the moment, the four of us had more first-hand experience of the sidhe than anyone living, and Julian most of all. “I didn’t really press for details,” I admitted. “I hate making him think back to his captivity.”
“What about legends?”
Now there was a good idea. “If the Courts are real, other things might be, too—especially from the Celtic legends.”
“So what else is there?” Liesel sat down at her tidy desk and pulled out pen and paper. Her hands were shaking, but I had sense enough not to mention it. “Vulnerability to iron—you can’t say for certain that it affected Falcon, but given that it makes us bloods uncomfortable, I’d say it’s a pretty sure bet.”
This was my way of dealing with stress, not hers. But I didn’t point that out, either. If she wanted to steady herself by steadying me, who was I to complain? I took over the job of pacing instead. “Power of names. Julian says they don’t give us their real ones, and Falcon avoided calling Julian by name, too—even though that one doesn’t affect us.” Did it affect wilders? Some people chose secret names for magical use. Some people concealed their birthdays, too; I didn’t know Julian’s, except that it had fallen some time in the middle of his disappearances.
“Possibly keeping their word, too,” Liesel said. “In a lot of those fairy tales, they were devious, but if you got them to swear to something, they couldn’t back out on it.” She stopped writing and looked thoughtful. “Bloods tend to be like that, too. Not that we can’t break our words, but can you think of many people who do?”
I was breaking my word right now, by telling Liesel—but as a general thing, she had a point. “Not really. I mean, sometimes—when we have good reason—but not readily. Liesel, you’re amazing.”
A brief grin eased the tense lines of her face. “Okay. What else?”
“They might be vulnerable to fire, or music. Maybe we can find a way to test that, without seeming hostile.”
“Maybe.” Liesel scribbled that down, and we were both silent for a moment, thinking.
“Okay, what about abilities?” I said, resuming my pacing. “Glamour. We can do illusions; they can probably do them better.”
She wrote it down. “Shape-changing, maybe. I wonder if they’re limited to animal forms, or if they could do inanimates as well.” Liesel chewed on the end of her pen.
I racked my brain, trying to think of ideas common in fairy tales. “Things happen in threes. Eldest of three is unlucky. Old crones are probably special.” I shook my head in irritation. “But fairy tales mostly don’t have fairies in them. We need legends.”
“Hollow hills?”
“Not according to Julian.”
“What about standing stones?”
“None here, but they do tend to stand on magical loci. Sacred caves, too, which I guess might qualify for the hollow hills. But there’s been nothing at the cave here, so far as I know. Maybe mushroom rings?” I snorted. “This is getting silly, but I don’t know of any better source of information. Unless I could get Falcon to sit down and list his weaknesses for me.”
“I doubt it.” We fell silent again. After a moment, Liesel gave a quiet breath of laughter.
“What?” I asked her.
She shook her head. “I was just thinking about all the heroes and heroines who rescued their true loves from the Fair Folk. Julian’s got someone to pull him out, but gods help Robert if he gets caught by the Unseelie.”
I grinned, but her words put a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Once that would’ve been a flippant comment. Now it might become all too real.
Then another idea came into my head. “The Wild Hunt.”
That went onto the paper, too. “And elfshot.”
“Wasn’t that old flint arrowheads?”
“Something like that.”
“What about religion?” I added. “As a weakness. There’s all those medieval charms and things against the Fair Folk’s interference, calling on saints for protection.”
“But I bet they only work for Christians.” Liesel sighed. “Most of the Wiccans I know are more inclined to think the fairies are their friends. I hope they believe the Unseelie are a real danger.”
I collapsed onto the couch with a sigh. “We’ve only hit the Celtic stuff, though, and we can’t assume other cultures don’t have anything accurate in their legends. Lots of people had some group separate from humanity but inferior to gods. Russians, Persians, Egyptians, Greeks—”
“Norse,” Liesel said.
“Crap,” I said, wincing. “Yes, but I barely know anything about them. Weren’t there two groups there, too, like the Courts?”
“Lios-alfar and svart-alfar, I think. But I don’t remember all that well.” Liesel massaged her fingers. “I see a date with Talman and the library catalogue in our futures.”
That at least made me grin. “See? You’re good at divination after all.”
“Yes, I can see the future when it bites me on the nose.”
“It’s a start.” There was a soft knock on the door, and I rose to answer it.
Julian waited in the hallway. From his appearance, he’d just gotten up, but he looked infinitely better for having slept. “Come on in,” I said. “Liesel and I were just talking.” He passed me in the doorway, then paused, glancing at Liesel once before looking back to me. “I told her.”
He nodded, facing my roommate. “And what do you think?”
Liesel stood, hands nervously twiddling. “It makes sense—I mean, once you understand that our theories on the separation were wrong. But still … I’m not prepared to deal with this. No one is.” She managed a wan smile. “We spend every Samhain remembering the departure of the sidhe. Now they’re back.”
Samhain, the death of the old year and the birth of the new, the night when the veil between the mortal world and the Otherworld had traditionally been thinnest, and the spirits of the dead were free to walk once more. The legendary night when the Fair Folk rode, emerging from the hollow hills to mingle with humanity for a few short hours. No wonder it started then.
Julian caught sight of the sheet on Liesel’s desk and, with a glance to her for permission, picked it up and began to read it.
“Ninety percent of that is probably worthless bullshit,” I admitted. “I’m just hoping for a few kernels of truth, so we won’t be working completely blind.”
“Iron, yes,” he said, sounding distant. “Names. And glamour, I think. After that, I’m not certain.” Putting the list down, he frowned in thought. “I have a book, or rather several, on the Celtic lore. I can look at that later to see if anything sparks.”
“I hope it does,” I said soberly.
He nodded. “We need an edge. So far, we haven’t even been thinking tactically; we’ve just been reacting. Myself included. We have to get past that, form some kind of strategy for dealing with this.”
It wasn’t Julian the college student speaking. Standing next to Liesel’s desk, the lamp throwing into relief the hollowness of his cheeks, he sounded more like a Guardian. “Who’s this ‘we,’ buddy?” I said lightly, trying to bring him down. Julian was in no shape to put himself back on the front lines. “The whole point of telling Grayson was to get this into the hands of the people with the training—and the authority—to deal with it.”
He shook his head, but not as if disagreeing with me. More rueful amusement. “I’m not hungry just yet,” Julian said, changing the subject. “Care to walk a bit?”
I was starving, but suspected that request wasn’t as casual as it sounded. “Sure. Let me just grab my coat.” Knowing him, we’d be heading for the Arboretum to talk, snow and all.
It made me wonder, though, just what he didn’t want Liesel to hear.