“We’re married?” I shouted.
“Don’t yell!”
“I’m not yelling. I’m shouting. Because I’m confused.”
Erin and I had found a quiet place to talk. The raven had flown off my shoulder. Maybe it sensed the turmoil brewing inside me and wanted no part of it. I looked around because I didn’t want to look at Erin. There were lilacs growing over an arbor and little finches singing all around us and the whole beautiful thing was ticking me off.
“I didn’t know what was going on out there, Erin. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Call me Fáidh in this realm,” she insisted.
“Sorry. In my head you’re Erin.”
“Don’t say you’re sorry either! An apology is a hundred times worse than saying ‘thank you.’ Words like that have special power. One apology and you are indebted with a powerful burden that could leave you enslaved for a hundred years. Never apologize.””
“Fine! Whatever. Fáidh.”
She took the points with a nod and said, “I didn’t know myself. Not until it was too late. You don’t interrupt the Alder King unless you want a long and painful death.”
“Well, I figured that out at least.”
“When you first arrived I was so surprised to see you.”
“I was surprised to see you too,” I said. “Stunned. I guess you come here a lot.”
“This is my birthplace,” she replied. “Right now, in the mortal world, it’s my lunch hour. There was an announcement of a Quickening from the Alder King and all the Fae were invited. I decided to take a break from the lab to see what was going on.”
I sighed. So much weirdness. My head was killing me. “Heckuva party,” I smiled ruefully. “I don’t even know how I got here. That story about tripping over the furniture was a lie. Some huge lion-and-dog-hyena-thing just appeared inside my house and attacked me. How does that make any sense to a normal person? I guess you’ll believe me.”
“The creature is Madrasceartán,” she replied.
“Mad-who?”
That made Erin smile a little, which was a huge victory, I thought. For a moment we were back in the Medical Examiner’s office and Erin was just Erin. The moment didn’t last.
“Madrasceartán. The king’s beast. She serves as the king’s messenger and, when needed, assassin.”
“I can believe it. Wait a second, that enormous, vicious thing is female?”
“She is.”
“Wow. Okay. Why is it that the most dangerous things in the world are female?” The little smile grew.
“That is a fact you would do well to remember.”
Hmm.
I continued, “She drew some kind of symbol on my head with her claw. It was circular with some design in the middle. But after a while I couldn’t see it anymore and you couldn’t see it either.”
“Not without magic,” Erin nodded. This was a common thing, apparently. “She put the instructions in your mind with that sigil and also gave you some of her power so that you could open the gate. It also made you think that it would be a really good idea to complete your task. You could have stopped at any time if you really wanted to. Did you have the feeling that you were doing something important? Something right?”
I remembered. “Yeah. Even though I didn’t even know what I was doing or why.”
“That was her sigil working on your mind. If you hadn’t finished the job, you would have felt disappointed about it for the rest of your life. Although they probably would have taken more direct action. But if the Fae don’t have to, they won’t. The more they can get people to do things willingly, the better. She also gave you some power because you didn’t have any of your own. Not before the Quickening.”
“What’s a Quickening?”
Erin sat down on the grass, spreading her gown away from her long legs. I stayed on my feet, pacing.
“A Quickening is when you receive your powers,” Erin replied. “You and I are both Halflings. Part Human, part Fae. We have powers and they are different for everybody. I’ve always had mine. Yours have been dormant. The Quickening is a ceremony that awakens the powers inside you. It traditionally takes place on the morning of your ten-thousandth dawn.”
I thought about the ordeal. “Is it supposed to be dangerous?” I asked.
Erin shook her head. “No. It’s symbolic. The binding and the knife represent your soul as a mere mortal, trapped without power and vulnerable. When you accept your power, you become free from your mundane prison. But the ceremony shouldn’t hurt you.”
“My power tried to strangle me.”
“That’s what was happening?”
I nodded.
“Someone was interfering. When I saw it was taking too long and you were lying so still on the ground I got worried. As a healer, the King gave me permission to check on you so I put my hand on your forehead. I didn’t get permission to speak to your mind and it’s lucky I didn’t get caught.”
“People can do that?”
“Eternals—the Fae—and some Halflings can. Anyway, a formal Quickening happens infrequently, maybe once in a decade, and the King does not often attend. Even when he does, he doesn’t make gifts afterward. Today he was a congenial host. This is not historically common. The Alder King is ruthless and arrogant. He’s been known to kill for sport and if you offend him, he will not forget. Ever.”
“He’s standing right behind you,” I said. Lying.
Erin’s eyes flashed green. “Don’t be an imbecile. What I’m trying to tell you is that the Alder King has taken a special interest in you and that has me worried. What I found out, while you were talking with the Alder King, is that you might be his son.”
Something clicked into place with that. “I think he probably pays for my house,” I said. “And my caretaker and housemaid.”
Erin’s thoughts came tumbling out now. “If it’s true, he would also be interested in you having children. That ‘impromptu’ wedding was probably planned.”
“Look, I didn’t know there was going to be a wedding. He said choose a helpmeet. I thought he meant a helper.”
“Helpmeet means wife. It’s archaic but—didn’t you ever read the Bible?”
“Well, yeah. The Mama . . .” I snapped my fingers. “That’s where I heard it before.”
Erin shook her head. “Above all, you have to remember that the Fae love their deceptions. They have raised gamesmanship to an art form. They love to play tricks on humans almost as much as they love to play tricks on each other. The one thing the Eternals cannot do is lie. And they always know when someone else is lying.”
“Okay,” I said.
“So they strategize. They brought you here and it’s all new to you. The King wanted you to get your powers. The thing that concerns me is that you were attacked while you were in the ceremony. Later, we’ll have to figure out why. After you were Quickened, the King gave gifts to you. At the end he said you may choose someone and made it sound like just another favor. You weren’t forced into it. They made you think you were just getting another servant.”
“We didn’t say ‘I do,’” I said. I felt the need to point that out.
“Doesn’t matter,” Erin replied. “The mortal realm has made some great strides in equality and choice. But the Faerie world hasn’t changed for centuries. If the Alder King says we’re married, we are. I have less right to object than you do.”
We didn’t kiss either.
I looked at the ground. My head was killing me. “I’m sorry . . .”
“NO! No you are not!” Ow! Now who was shouting?
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. I almost said I was sorry again because I wanted to make her laugh, but it seemed important to her that I was taking this seriously.
Long moments of silence followed then in which I pondered the situation and tried not to look at Erin. After a while, she broke the silence.
“Any one of those girls would have been happy to be your mate. A chance to bear the grandson of the Alder King? Quite an honor.”
“An honor? It’s a mess,” I said.
“So you’re unhappy?”
“Picture the Hindenburg falling onto the Titanic, carrying the Black Plague.”
“I see.” It took me a half-second too long to notice Erin’s voice growing cool. “Well, I guess the day is just filled with disappointment,” she said.
Mayday.
“No,” I replied. “I just assumed we were both feeling . . .”
“What, Luck? Feeling what?”
This was going badly and I didn’t know where the conversation had gotten off the tracks.
Erin’s eyes were emeralds. Emeralds on fire. She folded her arms tightly under her breasts and crossed her legs, closing herself off. “So if I hadn’t shown up, who would you have picked? Which of those girls would you have chosen?”
“The girl who was probably naked under all the hair!” I snapped.
“You’re either an idiot or that’s a real crummy defense mechanism you have there,” she replied. “Please tell me you always make jokes when you screw up.”
“I always make jokes when I screw up. Better?” My head was about to explode.
The lilacs stirred and Blue Tiger slinked in through the arbor.
“How is. Everyone?” she asked.
“Peachy,” I said.
Erin remained quiet, her arms and legs and probably her toes crossed by now.
“Oh,” Blue Tiger made a pouty face. “Not a happy. Honeymoon?”
“There is no honeymoon,” I said.
“This is not a honeymoon,” Erin said.
We both spoke at the same time and the word “honeymoon” came out simultaneously. In other circumstances, it would have made me laugh.
“Oh, yes. Ye are so. Incompatible.”
“Please leave, Béil.” Erin’s voice was glacial.
Blue Tiger remained unfazed. “I just came so. He could thank. Me,” she said. She looked at me and gave a little curtsy. “Art thou. Not going. To thank me?”
I played dumb. “For what?”
“For teaching. Thee. Respect.”
“Ah. If only I could,” I said. “Unfortunately, I am prohibited from expressing thanks for anything. King’s orders.”
Béil licked her lips. “Thou art learning,” she said. “Very good.” She reached a finger toward my chest. I stood up and moved away. She giggled at me and I felt a shiver like ice water down my back. My head was trying to beat me over the head with itself. Béil probably liked drowning puppies in her spare time and I wasn’t eager to see what her touch would do now that I had been Quickened.
“Back off!” I was very pleased to see a sudden look of shock and fear on her face.
Erin, unfortunately, had a similar expression.
I looked down and saw the knife in my hand. I don’t remember pulling it out of my pocket. Why was my head pounding? Why did my hand hurt?
“Thou darest?” Béil hissed. “Fool!”
Erin was shying away from me too, looking at me like I had a handful of rattlesnakes. I looked again. The knife seemed to be glowing with an aura of dark purple. Looking at it made me feel nauseated.
“Goethe,” Erin said. “That knife is steel. It has iron in it. Throw it away. Please!”
I didn’t throw the knife away. I took a step toward Béil instead and jabbed at her with it. She said no words I could understand but she gasped and snarled at me. I backed her through the arbor. “Leave us alone,” I said.
She threw a baleful—Ha ha! Baleful!—grimace in my direction and tip-toed away with as much of her dignity as she could retain.
“Put it away,” Erin begged.
Feeling suddenly sheepish for no good reason, I slipped the knife back into my pocket. My headache flared. I tried to think of something competent to say.
“I wish to make amends,” I said. They were the only words I could come up with besides, I’m sorry.
Erin looked at me, but I couldn’t read her. “Go home,” she said.
I knew I’d wounded her but I couldn’t think of anything else to say that would be of any real use. “All right,” I said.
I abandoned her to the lilacs and the finches in the arbor. I called, “Midnight Dreary!” and the raven came from some nearby shadow and settled on my shoulder. She rapped on the top of my skull a few times with her beak. It didn’t hurt but I got the message. “Yeah, I know,” I said. “I’m a knucklehead. Please show me the way back to my home.”
The raven took off, circled above my head once, and flapped in the direction of the morning sun.
* * *
I emerged from the silver gate, righting myself around that ninety-degree angle. The column of pale blue light winked out and all the objects on the floor were now nothing more than a mess waiting to be swept up. It felt like I had been gone for hours, but the light outside had not changed, as far as I could tell. It was the same day. While I hadn’t noticed the exact time when I left, my best guess was that I had been gone for a few minutes and no more.
I pulled the knife out of my pocket again and dropped in on the nearest table. Instantly, my head stopped hurting.
Well crap. I was affected by iron now too. How many things were made of iron? Like my beautiful car, for starters?
“Welcome back to the mortal realm, sir.”
I jumped. A little.
“Sandretta!” I said. “I’m . . . uh . . . that’s quite the mess. On the floor.” Is it okay to say I’m sorry here?
“Not a problem, sir. I’ll be happy to clean it. Max and I have been waiting for this day for many years. You are one of us now.”
Sandretta and Max and I had always had a comfortable working relationship although, clearly, I had never gotten to know much about them. They were both Stained with ribbons in different shades of blue, though, and I’d always thought of them as special. The fault for not knowing them better was entirely mine. I was unpredictably home, except to sleep, and I confess I took them both for granted.
Now that we were all in the same club de Fae, I wasn’t sure how our relationship would change. They probably had powers that could toast me to a cinder, and for all I knew they were centuries old. They could be, in every respect, my superiors. The Mama had always taught me that respect for one’s elders and superiors was paramount. Of course, I was the lowest creature on Earth, which is another thing I was taught by The Mama. So everybody was my superior.
With new eyes, literally, I took stock of Sandretta. She was always immaculately dressed in functional clothing that didn’t seem dowdy but still let her do what she needed to do through the day. She had wrinkles at the corners of her hazel eyes that were laugh lines, not crow’s feet, and smiling came easily to her. Her hair was always pulled back in a smooth chignon that would be at home at a cocktail party.
“I appreciate you, Sandretta.” I didn’t know what else to say, but at least it made her smile and she gave me a nod.
I looked at my home. The home my apparent father provided with all the fine construction and the fine people to care for it. My father had given me everything I needed.
Except a father.
I noticed the folded up napkin on the counter. I had forgotten about the bullet casing and the design I had drawn earlier.
“Hey, Sandretta,” I said. “Can I show you something?”
“Certainly, sir.” She folded her hands together and waited.
I scrounged around in the drawers and found a plastic baggie. I let the bullet casing slide out of the napkin and into the baggie and then I sealed the baggie shut. Evidence preserved. With the napkin folded, I approached Sandretta. As soon as I opened it, her hands went out in front of her like she wanted to push it away.
“Oh no.” She turned her head, looking to the side. “Take that to Max, outside in the garden.”
Her reaction prompted me to look at the design again. The symbol was just some standard ink on crummy paper and there hadn’t been anything of note about it when I had drawn it. Now there was a dark aura around the symbol. I watched as it twisted and writhed on the paper like a living thing trying to escape. Tortured and seeking freedom, the symbol was like a Stain that wanted to fulfill its own purpose and it was surrounded by an undeniable wrongness.
I went outside. The garden had tons of vegetables, a slew of herb plants, and exactly three citrus trees: orange, lemon, and lime. Max used the produce to make some amazing dinners, and I think he liked being out in the yard. The garden kept him from getting bored. I found him putting some mulch from a wheelbarrow around the fruit trees. He was dressed in lightweight overalls, with a white t-shirt that showed his tanned arms, and a safari hat. He looked up as I approached and took his hat off, giving me a little nod. The action was habit for him and I had never found it annoying until today.
“Max, can I have you look at something?” I started. “You may be able to tell what it is.”
“Certainly, sir,” he replied.
I showed him the design.
Max didn’t ask me where I’d seen the symbol or how it had gotten on the paper. He just shook his head and in his deep voice said, “I recognize this. Very dark magic. Dark magic used to control the will of another. This makes a person a puppet. Anyone under this symbol will do anything the caster asks. Even kill or jump off a building or walk into a lake and drown. Anything. They will not be able to resist.”
That sparked another question. “Will they even lie still while someone stabs them in the heart and cuts them open?”
Max nodded curtly, “Yes. They will feel the pain but they will lie complacent and unmoving if the caster asks them to remain so. Inside, they will want to scream and run away. Outside, they will remain still.”
I couldn’t imagine the nightmare Barry Mallondyke must have endured before he’d bled out. Death must have been a welcome release.
“You are not thinking of using this?” Max asked. “Adding magic will awaken it.”
“No, Max. It was found on someone. They were murdered.”
“Using this is punishable by execution,” Max said. “Better for them if you catch them here and not in the Behindbeyond.”
“Okay.”
“Please. Destroy this paper as soon as you can. It can only bring evil.”
He made perfect sense. “I will, Max.”