The Shadow Project

by Cecilia Dominic

  Lawrence walked me up to my room, then left to get some things from his house since he'd be moving into the room next to mine. Selene would be transferred to the one on the other side of him with Corey beside her.

  Once alone, I pulled out my laptop. I hated the thing, as I did most modern "conveniences" and appliances, but I did appreciate the access it gave me to necessary research when I was in a hurry. My preference, of course, would be to go to a library and spend time among trees that had been, but in this case, plastic and electric waves would have to do.

  The scrying stone had shown me Kestrel Graves, and so I typed her number into my communications program. Luckily, she picked up.

  "Oh, it's you," she said. She didn't sound happy. "Calling for more dessert?"

  "Don't tempt me. They forgot to feed me lunch."

  "Oh!" She looked around and picked up her phone. "Do I need to order something for you? You can probably get delivery from just about anywhere."

  "Thank you, but I'm not helpless." I'd already called room service, who were happy to accommodate my dietary preferences for natural, organic ingredients.

  "Right. So what can I do for you?"

  "I was told that the CPDC used you occasionally for your mediumship skills, and I need to reach a spirit who may be hovering on the edge of moving to a different plane."

  Rather than looking proud, she cast her gaze downward.

  "What?" I asked. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. Some of the greatest witches in the history of the world could talk to the dead."

  "It's not that…" She sighed. "I sometimes can do it, but then it goes away. That's what's happens to all of my magic. It comes, and then it goes away. I'm useless." Her eyes turned shiny, and she wiped her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't cry."

  "No, you should. That's terrible."

  She coughed what sounded like a sob. Right. I didn't know how to do this human feeling better thing.

  "I mean, that's got to be so frustrating." I imitated what I'd seen Selene do when we thought we were talking to Mickey Michaels.

  "It really is," she said. "I think I'm going to be the greatest…whatever…and then I can't do it anymore after a few days."

  "But Corey highly recommended you."

  "Really?" That dazzling smile appeared, but then her expression clouded. "He's sweet, but he doesn't understand. Hell, even my parents don't."

  "But they're witches."

  She lowered her voice even though she presumably was at home by herself. "And they're the leaders of the most powerful coven in Atlanta, and I can't take over from them if I have wonky powers."

  "Right." I hadn't put it together before, but John Graves being a coven leader with a succession to defend made his and Lawrence Gordon's collusion more interesting. "And what about Doctor Gordon?"

  She shot me a coy look. "What about him?"

  I rubbed my eyes. "He's annoying, and he kept me from having cake the other night. What do you think?"

  She laughed, a welcome change from her melancholy of a few minutes before. "He's a little stiff, sure, but handsome, don't you think?"

  I raised my eyebrows. "No, I do not think."

  "You're just saying that because he cake-blocked you."

  I laughed at her using my expression. It did sound slightly dirty. "Right, but if I'm going to be stuck with him, I need to know more about him. Like, where does he come from? How did he get involved in the CPDC? Why does he think he's an expert on all things Fae?"

  She tilted her head. "Why are you stuck with him?"

  Oh, right. She didn't know about the soul-eater. I doubted her parents would tell her even if they found out, and I did hope that Cimex would inform his staff.

  "Because I was attacked by an evil creature today, so Doctor Rial and I are under a twenty-four-hour-watch."

  The words must have clicked in her head because she sat up straighter. "Who's watching her?"

  Clever girl. "Agent McLendon."

  "Dammit!" She balled a fist and hit her knee. "Why isn't he watching you?"

  "Why, don't you think I'm a threat?" I asked, secretly laughing at her jealousy. "Aren't I young and pretty enough to catch Corey's eye?"

  "Pretty, yes. Young, probably not."

  Well, then. I should have made her squirm harder for that, but something inside me softened at the memory of her distress at her magical issues. It never felt comfortable to fall short, especially when it was beyond one's control.

  "All right, I should punish you…"

  A panic-stricken look crossed her face. Good. At the very least she needed to be reminded of what she was dealing with.

  "…but I won't. Don't worry about Doctor Rial. She's engaged."

  "But she doesn't have a ring."

  "She doesn't often wear it. She doesn't want to lose it when…" I almost said, 'she shifts,' but I didn't have the right to reveal Selene's secret. "…when she travels." Another little lie. How many would I rack up before the day ended?

  "I can understand that." Now she looked dreamy. "When I get engaged, though, I'm going to wear that sucker everywhere, even to bed."

  "Are you and Corey that serious?"

  "No." She sighed again. "He's too caught up in his work, and it's frowned upon for people in the program to fraternize. They say it could be distracting in the field."

  "Right." Humans and their rules. Someone knocked on my door. I called, "Just a minute!" Then, to Kestrel, "Well, my food is here. If you think about something useful regarding Doctor Gordon—or someone who can help me talk to a spirit in a different plane—let me know."

  "Will do! And give me a few. I do know a good medium who can help me out if I can't manage. I'll get in touch with them and get back to you."

  "Thanks."

  Kestrel's pleasant expression hardened into something else—warning? "Don't thank me yet. No one in my parents' coven does anything for free."

  The screen went dark, so I answered the door. A young man stood there with a tray. He smiled and asked, "Can I come in?"

  I didn't want him to see the cat, and I also didn't want to invite anyone into my room—basic magical creature security protocol, that—so I shook my head.

  "I'll take the tray, thanks. Just tell me where to sign." I did as he instructed, took the tray, and backed into my room as quickly as I could.

  Sir Raleigh climbed into my lap when I sat, and I shared a little piece of cheese from my sandwich with him. Even if Kestrel could help me find a medium, I still had the quandary of no spot with enough natural energy to call my mother.

  Sir Raleigh mewed and kneaded on my thigh.

  "But first, we need to clip those claws." I suspected that would be the biggest challenge of the day, or at least I hoped it would.

  I finished lunch and had just found the clippers Lawrence had loaned to me when my phone chimed with a text—Backup medium found. Séance in an hour?

  15

  I called Selene to let her know about the plan. Lawrence hadn't returned yet, and I figured if I was with Corey and Selene, I'd be safe, so he wouldn't mind us going without him.

  I was wrong.

  I opened the door to find a glowering gargoyle on the other side.

  "Going somewhere?" he asked, his arms crossed like a geeky paranormal club bouncer.

  "Yes, with Corey and Selene."

  "In case you forgot, I'm supposed to be watching over you. We're playing man-to-man, not zone defense here."

  "Is that a sportsing thing?" All right, I knew what he was talking about, but I couldn't resist the impulse to annoy him.

  "Yes, and you've been around long enough to know what that means. Where are you going?"

  There would be no getting around him, so I decided to come clean and figure out what to do with him as we went along.

  "To a séance. Kestrel and one of her friends are going to help us catch Mickey Michaels' spirit before he either goes back into his body or leaves permanently. After the attack he sustained, either is possible."

  He blo
ody still didn't move. "How do you know he hasn't already?"

  "We don't. So, if you'll kindly get out of the way, we have a better chance of catching him." I tried to push past him, but of course he didn't budge. Finally, he stepped aside. "Rock head," I muttered.

  We met Corey and Selene in the lobby, and we all piled into Corey's SUV. I listened to the trees' murmurs to calm my racing heart. Could we finally be getting the break we needed? Would this information lead to my homecoming to Faerie? With a path home now open to me, strewn with rocks though it may be, the urge to return had grown into a visceral pull. I clasped my hands so I wouldn't allow my impatience to dance through my fingers.

  We arrived at a mixed-use development and parked in front of one of the stores. Kestrel met us out front.

  "Excuse us for a moment," Corey said. We walked into the store, and when the heels of my boots met the wooden floors, the crystals on the shelves greeted me in a familiar chorus.

  "What is it?" Lawrence asked.

  "What?"

  "You're smiling. Truly smiling, not the polite grimace you've been giving us."

  Well, that wiped the happiness from my face. "Nothing."

  He pulled out his phone, and I imagined him making a note—Earth elemental energy strong in this Fae. Smiles at crystals. Or some such nonsense.

  Meanwhile, I'd kept an ear on Corey's and Kestrel's conversation.

  "You don't have to do this," he said. "You said you were having trouble."

  "Well, you decided to make me look good and recommend me, so what was I supposed to do?"

  "Say no? You're allowed, you know." His tone told me this wasn't the first time they'd had such a conversation.

  "Yeah, but my parents heard about it, so…"

  "So, you're allowed to say no to them, too. I was trying to help."

  "Well, don't." Kestrel huffed and came into the shop. She waved to the clerk, a teenager who barely looked up from his phone, and we followed her into a back room. Six chairs sat around a round table covered in a black velvet cloth. Jewel-toned cloths hung from the ceilings and walls, and I looked around for the crystal ball that must be in there somewhere. The center of the table held a shiny silver candelabra with four places. A slight, dark-skinned woman with platinum blonde hair and gray eyes smiled at us.

  "This is my friend Aria," Kestrel told us. "She's the medium I told you about."

  "I'm pleased to meet all y'all," Aria said. Her accent held a trace of Southern, but in general she sounded like Selene and many of the other Atlantans we'd talked to—neutral. She glanced around to everyone, and then her eyes widened when she saw me. "And I am honored you are here, Princess."

  I cringed. "Please, call me Renee."

  "Princess?" Lawrence asked.

  "Long story," I said. "Let's get to it, shall we?"

  Aria had us sit around the table, and she took the position opposite Kestrel. "I understand we're summoning a spirit in transition?" Aria asked.

  "Yes," Selene said, but didn't offer any more explanation.

  "Very well. Kestrel warned me that you couldn't say much about your mission here, but I do sense you're in danger, especially you, um, Renee."

  A medium had just warned me of danger. I wanted to dismiss her claim as part of her act—weren't they always supposed to do that? But her words echoed through the crystals in the room.

  "Yours isn't the first warning I've received," I said.

  "Then I hope whatever is at the end of your path is worth the risk." Aria placed four new white candles in the pewter sconce in the middle of the table and lit them in clockwise order starting with the one aligned to the north. "Now everyone join hands, and I'll summon my spirit contacts to see if they can find your lost soul. What is his name?"

  "Michael Michaels," Selene told her, giving her the tech’s legal name.

  Aria sat beside me and held my left hand. Lawrence had my right one. Everyone closed their eyes but me—I wanted to see the tricks. What would happen? Table knocking? A shadowy white figure made of gauze and sticks? Or perhaps table levitation?

  Then I caught sight of Kestrel's face, her forehead scrunched with earnestness. Hades, I could be a coldhearted bitch. Here she was trying to help us, and I couldn't buy in because it was all too stereo—

  My chair shook. I leaned back to search for some sign that it was being manipulated, but I didn't see anything.

  "Kestrel, do you feel that?" Aria asked.

  "Yes," Kestrel said. "Something is here."

  I looked around and didn't see anything, but another tremor rumbled under the floor. If Aria had hydraulic effects installed, I'd give her props for using modern methods to invoke a Victorian experience. Then the temperature plummeted, and every hair on my body rose. The logical half of my brain chalked it up to Southeastern US-grade air conditioning, but the other half started to be impressed and buy in—at least a little—to the possibility of spirits. The doubt that had sprung up when we walked into the faux-Victorian parlor began to ebb.

  "Spirits, we thank you for your help," Aria intoned. "Please help us to reach the soul of Michael Michaels, who liked to be called Mickey and who may be journeying between planes. Ophelia, are you here?"

  Her spirit channel was named Ophelia. Perhaps she'd be a drowned waif-like spirit who'd—

  "What's up, witches?" Then a cackle. "I've always wanted to pop in and say that." Aria's voice, which had been slightly breathy, came out deep and with a resonance she shouldn't have been able to physically manage. More disturbing—her hand, which had been warm, had turned into ice.

  Hades, this might be real. Excitement warred with anxiety. If things got out of control, would I have enough power to intervene? Whoever spoke through Aria had a strong and potentially malicious presence. But this could be important.

  "Who are you?" Kestrel asked. "Spirit, I command you to identify yourself."

  "Oh, do you, now?" The spirit mocked her. "Look, witches, I only have a few minutes here, and I need to talk to the Princess, here. You know, the one who's too important to close her eyes for a silly little séance put on by goofy little spell-casters who want to play medium."

  Aria opened her eyes, and her irises had darkened to black. Her lips spread to reveal teeth with slight points to them, and I knew what I was dealing with.

  "Speak, dark Fae," I said with as much royal command as I could muster. Sir Raleigh hissed, and I stroked his head. He quivered, but not with purrs. Who knew kittens could feel such rage?

  "This thing goes beyond some stupid investigation into who told what to whom. No, you're dealing with something much bigger, much—aaaaugh!" Aria arched back and clutched at her throat. "All right, all right, I won't say too much." She returned to an upright posture, and after a couple of gasps, said in a less flippant tone. "Listen, Princess. Align yourself with the fangs. They'll know what's what. And they may help with what you're here to do."

  "Thank you," I said. "And what do you ask in return for this?"

  "No free in Fae, eh? You know the rules. But I didn't make the bargain beforehand. Just remember your old friend Troubadour when you get home."

  I didn't have a friend named Troubadour, but he wouldn't give me his real name, especially not in mixed company. "I will remember this."

  "And keep an eye on that one." She/he nodded to Sir Raleigh. "You're right that no gift is freely given in Faerie." Then Aria appeared to deflate, and Corey, who sat on her other side, caught her before she slumped to the floor. The candles blew out, but rather than the typical sweet candle-smoke smell, they gave off a peaty odor. It wouldn't mean anything to anyone but me, but I got the hint—an old bog god had come to visit.

  Aria opened her eyes—back to their normal color—and asked, "Did we find him?"

  "No," Kestrel said. "Something else came through."

  "Damn." Aria closed her eyes again, and I checked her pulse. Strong, but her energy said she'd been depleted.

  "Damn yourself," I told her. "You must be one hell of a strong medium if you
could hold that being for as long as you did. No more spells or summonings for you for the rest of the week."

  "But the Equinox is tonight."

  "But nothing." I put a hand to her cheek so she'd look at me. "I'm serious. Trust me. I'm a Fae princess and a doctor."

  "And you're in trouble," Lawrence said.

  Right. I'd managed to forget he was there.

  "That's not an unusual situation for me," I told him. What could Troubadour have meant, Align yourself with the fangs? Did he mean vampires? They didn't exist outside of the Collective Unconscious, did they?

  But then, there weren't that many Fae outside of Faerie.

  We made sure Aria was all right. She promised to rest for the remainder of the day, and I suspected she wouldn't, but I couldn't force her. When we emerged from the séance room, the store had turned gloomy, and we found the sky had clouded up.

  "Doctor River, I do have one thing to ask," Kestrel said.

  "Right, I should check you, too. You were channeling along with her, weren't you?"

  She batted my hand away. "I tried, but I was blocked." She looked down and shrugged Corey's hand from her shoulder. "No, I have a favor to ask you in exchange for bringing you here."

  Right, no free in Fae. "What would you like?" I asked.

  "My parents would like you to come along to our coven's Equinox ritual and celebration tomorrow morning. You don't have to do anything. It's more to show you off."

  Oh, goody, another human social event. But I'd agreed, so… "Thanks for the invite. And the honesty. Guess I'll be coming along, then."

  "Okay. I'll be in touch." She turned and walked to her car, a red Ford Mustang convertible. Someone loved their little girl—or wanted to make something up to her.

  "Well, then," I said to Lawrence, Selene, and Corey, who gazed after Kestrel. "Looks like we need to find some fangs."

  "I'll make a call," Lawrence said. "But it can only be the two of us."

  "That's all right," Selene told him. "Corey's pulled some records for me, so it looks like we've got a long evening ahead searching security logs for abnormalities."

  When we reached our adjoining rooms, Lawrence had suggested we keep the door open. I still felt the residual energy of my conversation with Troubadour, so I consented, if only to have a protective, if annoying, presence nearby. Well, besides the cat, who'd crashed out. Being ferociously cute must be exhausting.