She surveyed the room in a slow pivot, her expression unreadable. Circle completed, she faced Julian and spoke. “It does look peculiar. Falcon tried to describe it, but his words made no sense until now.”
Perhaps that was why she’d come to him here, rather than calling him outside: so she could see for herself. “I told you, the world has changed. We turned to technology. Less so after First Manifestation, when people began exploring their gifts, but we’re even finding ways to combine the two, now.”
“You speak,” Shard sighed, “but the words have little meaning. The ideas in your mind are too alien to me.”
“Forgive me if I don’t mourn that fact. I’m hoping the unfamiliarity of technology will be a strength we can use against the Unseelie. Anything they don’t understand is an advantage for us.”
“It could be a powerful one.” Shard seated herself gingerly on the edge of the futon; Julian took that as his cue to cross to a chair. Speaking to Shard made him want to stand at attention. It took real effort to relax, or to appear to.
“So.” She fixed him with a piercing green gaze. For all that Falcon could stare a hole in a wall, Shard’s eyes made his look soft. “You called me here for a reason.”
Julian nodded. She never liked to waste time on idle chatter, and he respected that. “I need to know whether you’ve learned anything.”
Instead of answering immediately, Shard gave him a considering look. “Why did you call me and not Falcon? He could answer that question, possibly without having to leave the Otherworld.”
“I wanted to see if I could,” Julian admitted. Her response implied that neither Falcon nor she had much information to share. He prayed he was misreading it. “It isn’t easy, though.”
“Falcon gave you that carving for a reason.”
Impossible to tell if she disapproved of him departing from it. He ignored the point and said, “What about the plans of the Unseelie?”
Shard closed her eyes and thought for a moment before speaking. “As you might expect. The Unseelie still seek a way to use you. They believe—or so I believe—that those of your kind are the keys to controlling humanity.”
They might not be wrong. From a social standpoint wilders were useless; the Unseelie would be far better advised to kidnap world leaders. And maybe they would, soon enough. But as far as magical influence was concerned, they could do no better than to control wilders. If it came to an outright battle between the Unseelie and the wilders on one side and the bloods of the world on the other, Julian would not care to bet on the outcome. Possibly even if the latter had Seelie help. “You have to know more than that, though,” he said. Unless they’d been dragging their heels as badly as the Guardians.
“Whispers only.”
“Then share the whispers.”
She looked away. Julian still didn’t know if they could speak falsehood, but they could certainly lie by omission, and he wondered if she was about to. Her words, though, were blunt enough in their honesty. “Supposedly they have found a means to bind your kind as Unseelie.”
Every nerve in his body leapt to alertness. “How?”
Shard merely shook her head. “Whispers, as I said. Possibly even whispers meant for us to hear, to distract us from their true intent. Who can tell?”
At moments like this, her serenity was as grating as Falcon’s disdain. Julian gritted his teeth, banishing memories of golden eyes, mocking laughter, pain. “I won’t let them.”
“They do not expect you would. That is why they make plans to capture you. Falcon came here this night with a warning, but could not find you, and time was running short. He went instead to … your friend, and gave her the word before he had to return. Then you contacted me.”
Julian had tried to explain to the Seelie that human names held no particular power, but he wasn’t sure they believed him. Kim must be trying to find him, though. He would get in touch with her as soon as he finished with Shard.
The sidhe woman was contemplating him with what passed for curiosity among her kind. “How stand matters with her?”
Coming from her, the question could mean only one thing. “I told her about your prediction. She didn’t let it turn her away.” Not that he’d tried very hard to convince her. He hadn’t wanted to—not badly enough. “We’re being as careful as we can.”
“But speaking your love to her makes you happy, despite the danger?”
Where was she leading with this questioning? Julian couldn’t begin to guess. There was definitely an edge to Shard’s curiosity, though; she wasn’t just making idle talk. “As happy as we can be, given the circumstances. I’m glad we did say it, though.”
“Why?”
Now it was Julian’s turn to pause, searching for the right answer. “Maybe this isn’t true of you, but humans feel a need to say things to one another. For most of our history speech has been the main form of communication available to us. Telepathy is useful, but I don’t know a single person who would be entirely comfortable until he’d said the words out loud.”
“Interesting.” Shard’s eyes were, as always, unreadable.
Julian had the feeling that her curiosity, whatever it was, had not been satisfied. Nevertheless, she rose from her seat, with her usual unnatural grace. “I must return. Mind well what I have said.”
He too rose, and reflexively made a semi-bow in her direction before opening the door. “I will.” She passed into the hallway and faded into unobtrusiveness once more.
As he closed the door behind her, cold dread settled its grip on him. A way to make him Unseelie. He’d put a countermeasure in place—but gods help him, he didn’t want it to come to that. Not only for himself, but for Kim, who shouldn’t ever be forced to that point.
But she was the only one he trusted with it.
Kim—she would be searching for him. Julian dug out his port and was about to dial when it rang. Grayson. He frowned and accepted the call.
“There’s an escort waiting for you downstairs,” the professor said. “They’ll bring you to my office.”
~
The escort was no one he recognized, except that both of them were obviously Guardians. A short, heavily built black man, and an even shorter white woman, neither of them wilders. It seemed the cavalry had come at last.
They bracketed Julian on the walk to Grayson’s office, and stood sentinel at the door once they’d delivered him to her. Grayson was pacing—a bad sign. It didn’t get any better when the first words out of her mouth were, “I’m relying on you, Julian Fiain, to remember your training. Rash action is the last thing we need.”
His feet had automatically spaced themselves to shoulder-width, hands clasped behind his back, so that he stood at half-attention. Remember his training? It was reflex. “I won’t be rash.” Over what?
“Good,” Grayson said. This wasn’t her lecturing voice; it was the voice of a Guardian, delivering a report. “We’ve been in contact with the Seelie tonight. According to them, the Unseelie ambushed Kimberly Argant-Dubois—”
He didn’t move, but his entire body tensed at the sudden violence within. It even threatened the integrity of his shields. Grayson paused to stare him down, and Julian forced himself to calm. Measured breaths, centering his mind. Remember your training.
But gods—Kim—
“Their intent,” Grayson went on, “as we understand it, was to use her to lure you into vulnerability. You remain their ultimate target. Fortunately, the Seelie intervened, and have Kim in their keeping.”
Relief drained half the tension out of him—but only half. “So she’s all right.”
Grayson didn’t answer.
Julian clenched his jaw until it ached, then made himself ask with perfect calm, “What is her condition?”
She placed her fists on the desk, knuckles down, and lowered her head. “The Seelie are being … evasive. All they’ve said is that she’s in the Otherworld, and can’t be moved.”
He had himself under control now. It didn’t matter
that he’d been warned of this, that he’d ignored that warning and let himself accept a greater connection to Kim, when if he’d acted differently he might have prevented this. What mattered was logic, planning, action. “Who has command?”
Grayson’s eyes were black chips under the white lines of her brows. “That’s a very good question. Broad strategy is the responsibility of the Guardian Ring, in consultation with other officials. But it was determined that field decisions should be in the hands of someone who’s been on the ground here. Even though I’m no longer active as a Guardian.”
He’d feared a stranger, ignorantly barging in. This was better. Julian nodded crisply.
“But,” Grayson said, “I recognize that your firsthand experience of the sidhe is greater than mine. So although you’re under my command, I’m not about to bundle you off into a padded box. If you have any recommendations, make them now.”
Get Kim out of the Otherworld. But Grayson didn’t need to be told that. Julian ran through the events in his mind, dispassionately, examining them for points of action. Ambushed, Grayson had said. “Kim had intended to go to the masquerade tonight. With Liesel Mandelbaum. Did the Seelie say anything about her?” Grayson shook her head. “She might still be there. Liesel’s the next likely point of contact here at Welton, and after her, the remainder of the Palladian Circle. They need protection.”
The professor ran a hand over the white fuzz of her hair, scowling. “This university needs to be shut down, and everyone else moved out of the line of fire. We aren’t going to be able to skate through to the solstice. But yes—for now, we’ll start with that.”
~
They got Liesel to safety—but she didn’t answer when Julian called, that night or the next morning. He tried for her mind, but she was safe behind the shields on her room, which the Guardians had reinforced before they left her. After checking in with Grayson, he and Robert went to Wolfstone in person.
No one answered his knock. Robert’s more vigorous pounding brought no response, either, and the handle wouldn’t turn. “Should I kick the door in?” he asked, only half-joking.
Julian shook his head. No call to break university property or Robert’s foot, not yet. Placing one palm against the door, he tested the defenses around the room. He’d left a small loophole when he built the shields, and it was still there. He had to be physically present to use it, but now that he was, he could send a probe worming through into the room.
“She’s in there,” he said. Robert’s pacing stopped.
He felt Liesel’s presence, but nothing else. No stray thoughts. No emotions. It was as if she’d locked herself into a box. Worried, Julian called out to her. Liesel. Wake up. Robert and I are here, and we need to talk to you about Kim.
As if that name had unlocked the box—or shattered it—everything came spilling out. Terror and guilt and shame flooded over Julian, until he staggered under their weight. The part of his mind that was still paying attention to his body felt Robert catch him before he fell. Julian dug his fingers against the surface of the door and forced his thoughts toward Liesel, against the flood. Let us in.
The onslaught stopped as if she’d turned off the tap. Julian opened his eyes. After a long, breathless moment, the door unlocked. He turned the handle and went into the dim room.
Liesel had retreated to the couch, where she sat in one corner, curled up into a tight ball. She had on a ragged grey dress that looked as if she’d worn it to the dance and then slept in it. Or perhaps not slept; there were dark shadows under her eyes.
Robert closed the door behind them. Julian knelt a short distance away, feeling awkward. This wasn’t his specialty. He had empathic skill, but he couldn’t touch Liesel; the inhumanness of his nature was the last thing she needed right now. Bad enough to have him present.
Robert solved the problem. He was a lousy empath, but he sat on the couch and pulled Liesel to him. After a brief resistance, she huddled against his chest. One long arm went around her shoulders, and then she spoke.
“It’s my fault.” Her eyes were wide and staring, and even in the dim light Julian could see they were bloodshot. “I made her go. She didn’t want to. But I made her do it. For me, so I could pretend things were normal. I thought it would help. But they attacked her and now she’s in the Otherworld and it’s all my fault.”
Robert’s face twisted in horrified sympathy at Liesel’s words. Julian felt the same. Now he could read the strangeness in Liesel’s expression: it was self-loathing, and he’d never expected to see it in her.
“It’s not your fault,” he said, groping blindly for useful words. “Knowing Kim, she wanted to help you.” He hadn’t even thought about how this stress would hit Liesel—worse than the rest of them, because she would carry their burdens as well as her own. Kim had, he guessed, and had done what she could to repair the damage.
Liesel just shook her head. “My fault. Because I needed her to go.”
There. That was the key to the self-loathing. Liesel helped others; she didn’t need help herself. In all the time he’d known her, this was the first time Julian had seen Liesel put her own emotional needs before someone else’s. And look how it turned out.
“But Kim’s all right now,” he reminded her. “The Seelie have her. She’s safe.” He kept any hint of doubt locked well away. Right now he’d lie through his teeth if it helped pull Liesel back together.
“I shouldn’t have done it,” Liesel whispered. “She got hurt.”
Julian opened his mouth, but found nothing to say. He shared the same guilt. Easy to tell himself Kim had made her own choices; much less easy to accept the consequences. If he couldn’t resolve that for himself, how could he expect to do it for Liesel?
Robert answered her. Robert, whom Julian had almost counted out of the situation, expecting that he would provide nothing more than a shoulder to cry on.
“Harm to yourself counts too, you know.”
Julian blinked. Robert’s words made no sense to him. But they must have meant something to Liesel, because she stirred.
“You asked Kim to go to the ball,” Robert continued. “But you didn’t force her. Kim has free will. Because of your request, she was put into danger, harmed; yes, all that is true. But you were only an indirect cause. You did not do it to her yourself. That blame lies squarely on the Unseelie.
“And what if you had not asked? You would have hurt yourself, by denying your need for release. You would have hurt those around you, because the pain bottled up in you would inevitably have spilled over. And that would have made you feel guilty, because you were not superhuman, and let your emotions become your weakness. Under normal circumstances you would know better; I have heard you chastise others for similar foolishness on more than one occasion. But these circumstances are not normal.”
Robert’s voice lowered, until his last words were barely audible. “And Kim, who could have helped all this by doing you a small favor, would have accused herself of failing you when you needed her.”
Julian went still, understanding. Wilders were raised non-religious; it never occurred to him to view the situation from that angle. But Robert, despite only patchy adherence to the Wiccan faith, knew it better than Julian, and knew the central tenet shared by most: An it harm none, do what ye will. Liesel had followed her own wishes, and this was the result.
But keeping silent wouldn’t have avoided harm, either.
“No matter what I do, it turns out badly,” Liesel said in a choked voice.
Robert shrugged. “Sometimes there is no good answer. We merely do the best we can. The Lord and Lady will not punish you for weakness. Act according to your heart, and be strong, and deal with the consequences as they come.”
Liesel closed her eyes. Julian felt the raging tangle of emotions inside her quiet slowly. She wasn’t locking them down; she was smoothing them out. Fear remained, though—a great deal of it. She didn’t have Julian’s training, or Robert’s confidence, or Kim’s determination, and without th
ose she felt very vulnerable.
“You don’t have to be strong alone,” Julian said.
She hesitated. He could feel it in her, as if she was standing on the brink of a cliff and trying to believe that someone would catch her if she jumped. He reached out a psychic hand toward her, offering support, and she opened her eyes and looked at him as if she could see it.
Then her mind touched his, not flinching at the contact, and she accepted the aid.
Liesel sat up, brushing her disarranged hair out of her face. Robert stayed at her side. She took a few deep breaths, wiped her face dry, and said, “We have to do something, though.”
“We will,” Robert said lightly, as if the Unseelie were no bigger problem than a cockroach infestation. “We’ll get Kim back to her own world, and then we will figure out how to save the world, and then we will have biscuits and tea.”
~
Julian slept badly and woke early, then set himself to the task of reaching the Otherworld without the carving to lead him. Grayson had taken it from him to facilitate official communication, and while he couldn’t refuse her, he wanted very badly to contact someone who would tell him something about Kim.
He breathed away his growing tangle of frustration and fear, centered his mind, and tried again.
Twice he managed to touch that space between worlds, but the sun had set before he slipped fully into it. And before he could try to reach further, across the void to the approaching Otherworld, he felt a disturbance ripple the aether around him.
Sidhe were passing physically into the mortal world.
Robert wasn’t in the room. No time to look for him. If the visitors were Seelie—he was certain there was more than one—he might be able to get news of Kim from them. And if they were Unseelie, he could follow and see what their purpose was. For he could sense, now that he knew they were coming, where they would emerge.
Julian snatched his coat off the hook and took the stairs at a dead run.
~
It was the Arboretum, of course. Whether because of the cave, or the comfort of green space, or some lingering connection to the riverbank, Julian didn’t know and didn’t care. He plunged into the cold darkness, running as swiftly and silently as he could. His reaching mind found human auras up ahead—the Guardians who’d escorted him to Grayson’s office. Good. That saved him the trouble of alerting them.