She pushed him away, angry, but he held her to him.
‘You cannot stop dancing,’ he cried, holding onto her waist tightly; the dancers seemed to become even more frenzied around them. Faye had to duck a few times to avoid being struck by flailing limbs. ‘If you do, it is a great insult to my faerie court.’
‘They are not my faerie court,’ she shouted back, and, with a great effort, wrenched herself away from his grip. The dance held him and flowed away from her like a wave. She fell and landed painfully on her hands and knees on the thick glass floor.
Through the glass, she could see corpses floating in the water. One of them was Aisha.
Forty
Faye stood between Simon and Manu as Sylvia and Penny opened the circle. It was December and the secluded oak grove on Hampstead Heath where Faye had come before smoked with incense made of pine and frankincense. Candlelight flickered on the rough bark of the sentinel trees that guarded their privacy.
Faye was deep in the shock of mourning. She felt blank, as if she was mummified in layers and layers of bandages; when she spoke, she heard herself talking as if it was someone else. Her thoughts were slow and cold, and her eyes were red with crying. She felt dissociated from everything around her, floating, muffled, even with the kind, grounding influence of white-bearded Simon next to her in his worn leather waistcoat covered in motorcycle gang patches, or the firm grip of Manu’s hand in hers on the other.
The coven thought that they could call Gabriel back from Murias, and Faye had promised to help – she could hardly refuse. It was Faye Gabriel had followed into Murias, despite her warning; perhaps he’d intended to all along, or perhaps he’d been swept up with the wave that Finn used to draw her in to his faerie realm. Either way, it was her fault, just as it had been her fault that Aisha had been ensnared by Finn Beatha. And Aisha was dead.
Faye was adding her presence and power to the coven’s calling Gabriel back, but she was the only one that knew Murias, and Faye knew that Gabriel was too deep in Glitonea’s enchantment to want to leave. In any case, it was immaterial if he wanted to leave or not. Glitonea would never let him go.
When she’d woken up in Rav’s bed, returned from Murias, she had no idea how she’d got there. A flu-like malaise laid her out for two weeks after that: she knew it was her body rejecting Murias, like going cold turkey. Each time she stayed too long it was the same.
When the fever had abated and she was left weak as the tea that stayed untouched on the bedside table, Rav had carefully asked her where she’d been; she’d disappeared after the party and been gone for three days. To Faye it felt like weeks.
‘You came stumbling into the flat in the middle of the night.’ Rav’s voice maintained a careful line between accusation and concern. ‘I found that note you left me; I was out of my mind with worry. You were gone for three days. Three days, Faye. I thought you’d been at Annie’s, but she said she hadn’t seen you.’ He clearly suspected that she’d been in the realms of faerie, but he needed to hear it from her. She was too tired to lie, and had told him all of it.
He had asked her to leave; she’d broken it off with him anyway, hadn’t she?
She’d wanted to ask him about Mallory – had there been something between them? – but it wasn’t the right time. Perhaps there would never be a right time now. It had been her choice and it was the right one. But it still hurt.
Aisha and Gabriel’s faces were imprinted on her mind. Wracked with pain, emaciated, dead. Faye stared at one of the oak trees in the grove, looking at the pattern of its bark. How could trees still stand and the sun still rise every day when Aisha was dead, and Gabriel gone? Her eyes sought a comfort in the pattern of the bark. She thought, if she concentrated on it hard enough, she could forget everything else.
‘We are here tonight on a mission of mercy,’ Sylvia intoned to the group as they stood in the cold night air. Faye, used to being out on Black Sands Beach in the winter, was still chilled to the bone, but she hardly felt it, muffled in her grief. She didn’t care if she froze. It was a penance.
Sylvia and Penny had visited Faye while she was convalescing at Annie’s, bringing her herbal remedies for regaining strength and giving her energy healing and aromatherapy massage. We look after our own. Penny had nodded briskly when Faye had thanked her.
Faye told them about her time in Murias, and how Gabriel must have been carried in with her when they summoned Finn Beatha at the edge of the Thames.
‘He was a seeker. Is a seeker,’ Sylvia had corrected herself as she massaged Faye’s feet with citrus-smelling oils. ‘He was fascinated with the fae worlds, but he’d never had an experience with faerie outside the circle. He must have been beside himself when you turned up.’
‘He was very enthusiastic, but that was nice.’ Faye coughed, and Penny slapped her on the back. ‘It was good to have someone like that in my life. Who believed me. Who…’ she trailed off, thinking of Rav. ‘Who understood who I was. Fae and human halves.’
‘Your boyfriend wasn’t as understanding,’ Penny said. ‘I’ve been there. Not many non-witches, or, you know, non-mystics of some kind really get what this life is about. They can’t accept what they can’t see.’
Annie had sat down next to Faye and handed her a glass of wine.
‘It wasnae like he hadn’t seen it for himself, ye know. Tha’s what I dinnae understand.’ She’d leaned over and kissed Faye on the tip of her nose.
And Faye had cried again, because she couldn’t stop: the grief ran deep in her, like the sap in the old oak she stared at, standing in the circle. Annie had ushered Sylvia and Penny out. It’s too soon, she just needs rest.
Sylvia and Penny had told her that while Faye had been gone, Mallory had become part of the circle. Not part of the full coven, she’d nonetheless apparently come to some pub meet-ups and a couple of workshops; now, she stood in the circle opposite Faye, cowled in a long, dark coat that could, to all intents and purposes, be a cloak. Faye could feel the girl’s disruptive energy emanating across the air at her like a knife-edged cloud of resentment and superiority. Faye hadn’t spoken to her at all since arriving. What could she say? It didn’t matter now. None of it mattered. Faye was too deep in her grief to be able to respond to Mallory. If you wanted him, then he’s yours now, Faye thought, still staring at the tree.
‘One of our own, Gabriel Black, is lost in the realm of Murias. He has become enchanted by the Faerie Queen Glitonea, and we understand that his situation is perilous. Though he may not want to leave, he must be forcibly removed, and so we will entreat any powers willing to help us call him back to us,’ Sylvia intoned.
The coven members exchanged glances and a murmur of disbelief went around the circle.
‘We need your undivided attention, friends,’ Penny continued. ‘Work with us now. After I call in the elements and draw the boundary, we will raise the power as greatly as we can. And we will ask for guidance from the gods and the faerie powers,’ she added, looking at Faye. ‘Faye already has experience in this regard.’
Faye blinked, struggling awake. She willed herself to be tethered to the earth, to take strength from something. She clutched at the obsidian crystal in her pocket. What had Penny just said? The faerie powers. Her instinct rose up, hot in the cold stone of her heart.
‘No,’ Faye’s voice wavered. ‘Don’t call on them.’
‘What?’ Penny’s voice cut through the lamplit circle.
‘The elementals. Don’t call on them. Other gods, spirits. Call them instead. Leave the fae alone.’
‘Why? Why on earth wouldn’t we ask for their help when that’s where Gabriel is? I think the shock’s affecting your judgement, dear. Don’t worry. Let us lead this.’ Sylvia was kind, but there was a thread of steel in her words.
‘No. You don’t understand. They’ll offer a bargain, but you can never take it. But it’ll sound like the only way. They’re persuasive. Please. I… I feel it.’ Faye knew she sounded foggy, wavering; she wasn’t herself. But at th
e same time, she knew in her bones that calling on the fae would lead to more loss, more heartbreak. ‘Please listen. I…’
Manu, next to her, squeezed her hand.
‘It’s going to be all right, Faye. I promise. Okay? And Simon promises. Don’t you, Simon?’
The silver-bearded man next to her gave her a reassuring smile.
‘I promise I won’t let anything bad happen. To you or anyone else.’ He was jolly, but Faye wanted to hit him. She pulled her hands away from both of them.
‘You can’t control the fae. You have no power over them. You can’t protect me, or yourselves!’ she cried, going to Penny and grabbing her by the shoulders. ‘Penny! You can’t. You don’t understand.’
Faye was sweating, although the temperature was barely above freezing and her head pounded with the headache she hadn’t been able to shift since coming back from Murias. The pain added to her overall sense of dissociation; perhaps, this time, some part of her spirit or soul had become permanently stuck in the faerie realm. Faye swayed on her feet, feeling like she was going to pass out.
‘Sit down, Faye. Calm down. Here. Take some water.’ Penny made her drink from a water bottle. ‘I didn’t think you should have come. It’s too soon for you.’
‘But I wanted to. For Gabriel.’ Faye felt the tears coming again, and hugged her knees to her chest. ‘I want to help. Please… I just…’ she couldn’t explain it to them. None of them could know the horrors of Murias. Faye had finally seen them for herself, and they were more terrible than she could have dreamed.
‘I know. It’s all right,’ Penny soothed her. Manu and Simon rejoined hands without her; now, Faye sat inside the circle. She couldn’t stop crying; her body was racked with sobs, her throat ached with remorse. She was still nauseous; she couldn’t shift the feeling, and refused to think about what Glitonea had told her. That she was pregnant. It was unthinkable.
Penny drew the circle around them in earth, air, fire and water and walked from one quarter of the circle to another, calling in the elemental powers from north, east, south and west, Despite being so upset, as soon as Penny called in the elements, Faye felt the power of earth rise strongly around her.
Faye closed her eyes as she felt all four elements swirl into the circle; as the coven started to circle clockwise, she felt the four powers wrap her in a golden light, combined of earth, air, fire and water, as if she was being wound in a ribbon, over and over. Her psychic body as well as her physical one drank up the earth, fire and air hungrily. Slowly, her headache started to ebb away and her focus started to return. Gabriel. Gabriel. Please. Any powers that are listening. Bring him back safely to us she implored, sending her wishes into the centre of the cone of power they were building.
The magic circle was in itself an inbetween-place; a created space where beings from other worlds could be invited to tread.
The feeling of being bandaged, frozen, was strange. Usually, magic was like slipping into a natural rhythm, as natural as breathing. Tonight, she couldn’t relax and let it flow through her. Her heart was that stone in the cold loch still: falling, untethered and full of fear. The grief made her magic waver and fade.
‘Powers of the elements; gods of the old ways, spirit guardians. We request your help. One of our own is lost in the kingdom of Murias; we desire your strength to help us call him home,’ Sylvia called, standing at the centre of the circle now, holding the power between her hands in a ball of golden light. She threw her head back, holding the ball of light up. ‘Powers, gods, guardians! Help us!’ she called, and Faye opened her eyes.
Lyr, Faerie King of the Realm of Falias appeared at the centre of the circle and bowed.
‘I am at your service, Priestess,’ he rumbled.
‘We ask respectfully for your assistance, King of Falias.’ Sylvia bowed her head. ‘And thank you for attending our rite.’
‘No!’ Faye cried out, but Lyr only smiled.
‘My help comes at a price, as my daughter knows.’ Lyr nodded courteously; Faye refused to meet his eyes, but her hands clutched at the crystal. Holding it made her more certain of her feet on the ground, and she felt the power of the earth flowing up through the mud and rock, through the trampled grass and into her feet, ankles, legs. No, no, no.
Find me a human woman to bear my child and I will help you bring your friend home. Faye knew what Lyr’s bargain was: in return for a suitable woman to bear his half-faerie child, he’d return Gabriel to them. But the price was too high, like it always was. She had warned them.
‘We are willing to make offerings to you; tell us what you require in return for your help in this matter,’ Sylvia continued, her voice strong and steady.
‘Don’t listen to him. He wants what they all want. A human sacrifice! Can’t you see?’ Faye cried, appealing at them, turning around the circle to make them understand. But the rest of the coven stared at Lyr raptly; Faye guessed that he’d enchanted them already. Perhaps they couldn’t hear or see her any more; perhaps Lyr was inside their minds, distracting them with their inmost desires. Sylvia was the only one whose attention remained on Faye and Lyr. Perhaps she was the only one strong enough to be able to resist his magic, or perhaps there was a reason that Lyr wanted her awake.
Lyr turned to Faye.
‘You know the bargain, daughter. It still stands.’ He was refusing to answer Sylvia.
‘What is the bargain?’ Sylvia demanded. ‘I’m in charge here. Your daughter is a part of the circle that brought you here. I’m the one you will bargain with.’
Lyr laughed softly. ‘I bear you no disrespect, Priestess, but I came here because of Faye and Faye only. We have an unfinished business, and she knows it. Think of it as a test of your loyalty to your fae family, daughter.’ His smile could be wolfish, and it was now.
‘Never.’ Faye turned her head away.
’Come now.’ Lyr stood behind her now, his large hand on her shoulder. ‘What other reason is there for her to be here? You know who it is. And you have no love for her.’
Faye’s gaze darted across the circle at Mallory and then at the others; they were all frozen and unmoving.
‘What have you done to them?’ she demanded.
‘Nothing permanent. They are quite well.’ Lyr shook his head. ‘So. You tried your own way in Murias, and you failed,’ he said, matter-of-factly. ‘Are you ready for another of your friends to die?’
‘No,’ she muttered. ‘But I refuse to let you take Mallory. She might not be my favourite person, but she’s not a whore for the taking.’
‘I am appalled that you should think I would want her as one. She will be cherished as the mother of my child,’ he rebuked her.
‘The mother of a half-human sacrifice, you mean,’ Faye shouted suddenly, tears thick in her throat, furious at the way the fae treated her and other humans. Grief for Aisha struck her bones; she ached with the loss. ‘We are people! We have our own lives. We’re not here for your amusement or to be used as baby-making machines.’ Instinctively, her hand went to her belly.
‘Then I wish you luck in extricating your friend from Glitonea’s clutches.’ Lyr shrugged, and turned to walk out of the circle. ‘He is fully human. How long do you think he can withstand the force of her adoration?’ Lyr raised an eyebrow. ‘The faerie queens love far more savagely than the kings, so they say.’
The force of her adoration. Faye remembered the bloody whip lines that crisscrossed Gabriel’s slumped body, chained to the wall where she kept him; yet, she also remembered the look in his eyes as Glitonea danced with him at the ball. You’d die there, because dying would be so sweet, she remembered thinking when they had been at Fortune’s. She wondered if it would have made any difference if she’d told Gabriel then what she’d seen before; if she’d told him about the human lover she’d first seen Glitonea with. But she knew it wouldn’t; Gabriel, like any human man, was powerless against the erotic power of any faerie queen.
‘I will make the bargain.’ Sylvia’s voice was low. ‘He was�
�� he is one of my coven. He is my responsibility.’
‘Sylvia! No!’ Faye stared, uncomprehending, at the High Priestess. She tried to move towards her, but a flick of Lyr’s hand rendered her immobile. She tried to speak, but he’d taken her words.
‘I see that one of you has common sense. Perhaps this is not Faye’s choice after all.’ Lyr smiled, pleasurable intrigue on his features, turning to Sylvia. Bathed in the golden luminescence that surrounded him, the High Priestess looked as if she’d been set on fire.
Faye stared wildly at Mallory, frozen like the rest, and watched, powerless, as Sylvia trod noiselessly across the circle and came to stand in front of her. Mallory’s kohl-rimmed eyes were half closed; her long black coat billowed from her tiny frame like a flag, portending death.
‘I’m in charge here,’ Sylvia repeated. ‘This is my responsibility. A High Priestess summons the powers; she does what is right for her coven.’
Faye tried to shout, to say anything, to warn Sylvia, but she was mute. No, please, don’t, she willed Sylvia to resist Lyr. But the faerie king’s power was too great; he’d persuaded Sylvia already.
‘And this one?’ Lyr ran his fingers through Mallory’s blonde fringe. ‘She is not also one of your charges?’
‘She is not…’ Faye could see that it pained Sylvia to say it, but she continued, ‘She is not an initiate. I have not sworn to protect her, and she has not sworn to be a full member of the coven,’
Faye’s heart sank. Could Sylvia be so heartless? But no: this wasn’t malice. It never was. The faerie kings and queens could manipulate humans into doing whatever they wanted. They had done it to Faye, before she’d gained some power to resist them.
‘She will be perfectly safe.’ Lyr stood behind Sylvia, reaching out to trace his finger over Mallory’s cheek. ‘Such a pretty one. She will bear a son.’
‘How do you know?’ Sylvia spoke as if she was in a trance. Faye’s heart sank deeper.
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