by Shona Husk
To distract himself from thinking about fairies he flicked through a couple of news sites, reading the headlines. He noticed the memorial for Nanette Callaway was the day after tomorrow and that there was a large outbreak of golden staph at a couple of hospitals.
That made him pause. While small outbreaks happened, this was more widespread. This time it was because of the ripples on the river. He didn’t really want to think about it, but Dylis’s warning about plague wasn’t something he could shrug off.
Instead of looking up antiques he started searching for disease outbreaks, half hoping the golden staph was an isolated anomaly.
It wasn’t. Measles was making a comeback. The health authorities blamed low immunization rates. On the other side of the world in Africa a rapid-spreading, drug-resistant tuberculosis was causing problems. That was where he stopped looking. The trouble with the Internet was it was very easy to find a positive answer to anything. Of course there were going to be outbreaks; there were seven billion people on the planet, a percentage of which would get sick.
But several different outbreaks at once?
He needed to find the Window. That would stop Shea, but Caspian knew enough about Court that finding the Window wouldn’t stop the ripples caused by the King and Queen’s fighting. They wouldn’t really damn the mortal world over a feud?
But the Black Death was proof they would and had before, more than once.
Bloody fairies. He couldn’t escape them at the moment. When he was with Lydia he felt normal and could forget for a little while what he was… or he had been able to. Now she knew and was busy deciding if she wanted to see him again. If it were him, he’d probably be running the other direction. Maybe he was asking too much for someone to know him and still accept him. Natalie would never have. And while he’d told Lydia, having Greys show up and destroy her yard wasn’t going to help his case. He tried to ignore the ache in his heart and pretend it was better she found out early before they got serious. The trouble was he didn’t believe it. For a moment last night he’d thought he’d been on the way to having what he wanted in a relationship.
The imp who thought he was doing a good job of hiding peeked around the table. Caspian threw a pen at it. The pen bounced harmlessly off the table leg.
Shea’s minions were still stalking him even though they were no longer trying to annoy him. “What were you banished for?”
The imp peeked back around. “Me?”
“Are there any other imps here?”
It shook its head. Imps had a bit of magic, but they’d given up stature and gradually looks to keep it. Trolls, on the other hand, gave up looks and magic first. Boggarts gave up looks and stature for magic—they were probably the most dangerous. What would Shea do?
“I tricked a woman into coming to Court.” The imp grinned as if proud of what he’d done.
“Is she still there?”
“She was set free and I was banished.”
“Why did you do it?”
“Why not?” The imp shrugged.
“Do you regret it?”
The imp regarded Caspian with eyes of the palest blue. “I regret being caught. The child I’d created became a changeling,” he spat the word.
“Have you seen the child?”
The imp laughed. “I’m not your daddy. If you’re lucky, you’ll never meet him. Most view changelings with scorn.”
Caspian knew that. But he also knew his situation was more complicated. He was sure the Crown Prince would hear about his deal sooner rather than later and he’d get to meet his father for the first time in a less than favorable situation.
He looked at the imp. He preferred Dylis’s company; at least she was pretty and could kind of be trusted. The imp on the other hand was only looking out for Shea. Caspian didn’t need to ask what the imp had been promised. There was only one thing banished fairies wanted—a return to Court.
* * *
Felan walked through the Court’s hall of mirrors. They were embedded in the bark or hanging from the branches that arched overhead, their limbs forming the vaulted ceiling. With every breeze they spun and caught the light glittering like stars. Most were no bigger than the palm of a hand. It was beautiful.
In the main hall there were bigger mirrors so the dancers could see themselves. And the occasional changeling who risked glancing at the Court. He’d seen Caspian and heard his thought for just a moment.
Dylis walked toward him looking like a flower in bloom. She swept him a curtsy that was more formal than anything she’d done recently. He was guessing this was the end of their private relationship. A pity because it had suited both of them while they were between lovers.
“My Prince. I bring you a gift.” She placed a small mirror on a silver chain in his hand, but didn’t release it. “I could deliver it for you.”
She could, but he wanted to do that in person. It had been a long time since he’d seen his son. “No. I will attend to that myself.”
She hesitated. “He didn’t really have a choice.”
“The reason doesn’t matter.” Caspian had broken the rules of the Court and would pay the penalty. While the thought was unpleasant, he couldn’t let it go unnoticed, otherwise questions would be asked about Caspian’s lineage.
She lifted her chin, all brittle, beautiful fairy. “I wish to thank you for our time together, but I feel it is time for me to move on now that you have what you want.”
They were being watched. He saw a flicker in the mirrors as they spun but couldn’t see who was watching. There’d be time for that later.
He lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips. Such a delicate thing for the work she’d been doing. “My bed shall be much colder without you.”
She’d done everything he’d asked, and more. Now it was time to hold up his end of the bargain and free her lover. His mother would be furious when she realized one of her trees was missing.
“May I still dance with you on occasion?” He didn’t want to release her entirely; being seen with her prevented others he didn’t trust from trying to be in his bed. It would also help protect Dylis if they carried on as if everything were normal.
“As long as it is merely a dance.” Her voice was firm.
He understood. With Bramwel about to be freed, their arrangement was over. He nodded. Dylis and her lover would be allies, and he’d need them.
She bobbed her head again. “It has been a pleasure, my Prince.”
“And mine. Thank you.” He released her hand and watched her walk away. Without looking at the Counter-Window he tucked it into his waistcoat, then continued his walk through the hall.
He paused to glance in some of the mirrors catching glimpses of the world; there was one he couldn’t bring himself to look in. He hadn’t been able to look at her face in seven mortal years without feeling his heart breaking. But as he walked past he felt her presence and knew she was alive.
“How is it you walk without a woman on your arm?” Eyra slid her arm into his.
His mother smiled at him. Her eyes were dark blue; they looked human but she’d lost her humanity centuries ago. All that glittered there now was hate, not love. If he made the wrong choice, this was his future. A queen bound to him by magic and hate, love long forgotten.
“My lover has other things to do,” he lied. He wasn’t going to tell his mother that he was about to turn his attention to the mortal world and finding a queen. Just hinting at that would be fatal. She wouldn’t give up the throne and the power that went with it… his father might, just to be free of her.
“I’m sure one of my ladies-in-waiting would be delighted to dally a while with you.” She smiled, but it was cold. He doubted she loved him anymore. No, she would see him as a threat and little else.
“A most gracious offer I will have to take full advantage of.” He freed himself from her long-nailed grip and swept her a bow. She still thought him shallow and uninterested in anything but dancing, drinking, gambling, and women. That was exactly ho
w he wanted to be seen. It was much easier to get on with stabilizing Annwyn if no one thought him of any account.
“I look forward to seeing you in my chambers.” She spun and walked away, looking not a day over eighteen, yet she was millennia old.
He touched his pocket. The Counter-Window was still there. He drew it out and gazed into the surface, his image rippled and faded, then he saw only black. Not very helpful in finding the Window, but then for what he had planned it didn’t matter.
He needed to find Verden, Lord of Hunt. It was time Caspian came to Court and met his father. Caspian needed to remember there were rules in place for a reason. He looked at his mother’s back and smiled. With Caspian here he might be able to accomplish several tasks quite simply.
Chapter 14
Caspian’s cell phone rang and jolted him out of his morbid thoughts. He’d ignored the imp, and managed to pretend today was no different from any other even as he kept checking over his shoulder for a messenger from Court. By lunchtime he’d almost convinced himself he’d gotten away with it. As deals went it was very loose, one could almost say less of a deal and more of a mutual agreement.
Lydia’s number flashed on the screen. He answered instead of ignoring it. “Hello.”
“I’m sorry I missed your call. I’ve been working in the garden.”
Caspian winced. “I can imagine.” He should have been there to help with the cleanup. “Are you okay?”
There was a pause before she answered and his heart jumped. “Lydia?”
“Can you come around early? I’ll get some takeout for dinner.”
He didn’t need bribing with takeout to spend time with her. “In an hour?”
“That would be great. See you soon.” She hung up.
Caspian put down his phone. She hadn’t sounded right; there’d been an edge to her voice like she was close to breaking. Had Shea done something? His heart clenched. No, she would have said. This was something else… the inevitable breakup? But why invite him over for dinner if she didn’t want to see him again? He didn’t want to let himself hope, and yet that was all he seemed to have.
His life was making less and less sense with every passing day. The only piece he wanted to hang on to was Lydia. She’d made him remember what it was like to be with someone—the accidental contacts that sent shimmers of heat over his skin, the glances and half-smiles. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that until meeting her. He didn’t want to be alone, but he needed someone who understood what his life was really like. Maybe after all of this had shaken down Lydia would still want to be part of his life… if he still had one to worry about.
Guess he’d find out when he got to Callaway House, by taxi since his car was now full of dead bees and a large hive had grown out of the backseat. He didn’t know how to report that to insurance. It was one of those problems that could wait. The imp watched, half-hidden by the wastepaper basket. He was about to shoo it away then stopped.
Caspian looked at the imp again and a smile turned the corners of his lips. He pulled a chocolate bar out his satchel, then walked out the back and got a glass of water and put it and the chocolate bar on the workbench. The imp followed, curious now.
“You want to hang around me and soak up some of the Court energy?” This had to be a sweet job that Shea had given the imp. Like a fairy, Caspian decided that keeping his enemies close was the way to keep ahead of Shea. If that meant bribing, so be it.
The imp’s gaze flicked between the water and chocolate; it was a poor approximation of the tea and cookies Caspian would leave for Brownies, but then an imp wasn’t a Brownie. The imp grasped the significance of the layout and nodded slowly.
“My car. And we shall never speak of this again.”
“You will put out a spread?”
“I might leave food out. If it were to vanish, I wouldn’t know who had taken it.” Because agreeing to leave a spread for a banished fairy was almost as bad as the agreement he’d made with Shea.
The imp’s eyes were narrowed as if he were calculating how much trouble he’d be in with Shea. “If your car were to be cleaned, and your shop too, I couldn’t say who had done such a thing. I’m merely here to watch you.”
“Exactly.” Caspian pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. The imp had been banished from Court, but he’d do anything to stay close to its power to keep from dying. Dylis would have a fit. But things had changed, and if the imp began to trust him maybe he’d trust Shea less. Without looking back, Caspian went back into the store and began to close up.
* * *
Caspian walked slowly up to the house, carrying a potted plant. It was a lame offering considering the damage. But Lydia had been busy today. This morning the garden had looked like a bunch of fairies had vented their anger on everything they touched. This afternoon the yard looked roughed up but otherwise ordered. The plants were in the garden beds and while they looked bedraggled and droopy, in a few days’ time with a bit of water and sun they would come back. Even the lawn would come in well.
He knocked and waited, but not for long.
Lydia had her hair pulled back in a messy bun, she looked tired, but her eyes lit up with warmth when she saw him. Then she threw her arms around his neck like he was the lifeline she’d been praying for. It had been so long since anyone had held him like that, he almost couldn’t breathe. He slid his free arm around her waist and for a moment just held her. He’d thought she’d slipped through his fingers, but she was still welcoming him with open arms. He closed his eyes, aware of how lucky he was. She was his link to all that was human as he was being surrounded by fairies. But more than that, she understood that he had a foot on both sides of the veil.
He breathed in the delicate scent of her skin and placed a kiss on her cheek. “You’re okay? Shea hasn’t been back?”
She shook her head, still pressed against him. “I haven’t heard anything strange. Whatever deal you made I think they have all gone.”
He wanted to believe that Shea had gone for good, but he knew that wouldn’t be the case. However, at least he wasn’t terrorizing Lydia anymore. “I’m glad. The garden looks better.”
She sighed against his neck and her breath tickled his skin like a lover’s caress. “It looked worse than it was.”
“I bought you a gardenia… and I will pay to get the paving relaid.”
Lydia pulled back. “You didn’t have to.” But she smiled as she took the pot.
“It was my fault it all happened.”
“You can’t help what you are.” She paused and looked at him. “It won’t happen again, right?”
The easy lie was to say no. “I can’t guarantee that. But I hope not.”
She nodded. “I hope so too.” She raked her teeth over her lip. “I didn’t call you to talk about your family—I think I’ve had all the fairies I can handle for today. I ah… I read some more of the diaries. I wish I hadn’t. I don’t know what to do.”
People’s diaries were private, but he understood her curiosity. Unfortunately some things should remain private. And he still had no idea what the best thing to do with them was. “There are names?”
“No, but I’m not a Callaway.”
Caspian blinked. How could she not be a Callaway? “What do you mean?”
“Gran wasn’t my grandmother; a woman died after giving birth and Gran raised the baby as her own. She lied to me. Said my mother was a late life surprise.”
“Hang on.” He shut the door. This didn’t seem like a conversation that should happen on the doorstep.
Her eyebrows were pinched and she was looking at him like he should have the answers… maybe he did. He wasn’t raised by his biological father. He put his satchel down by the hat stand. The iron should keep any curious fairy away. But he hadn’t seen one in the cab or any around the house.
“You said I should flick through and see if they named names. Well, I started flicking and caught up in the drama of a young woman who had partied here and th
en stayed when she became pregnant. She had the baby and then died.” She looked at him like he should be making connections. “That baby was my mother.”
“How do you know that for sure?”
“Gran named the baby Helen. Then I read a few of the later ones—that baby was definitely my mother. My mother had me at seventeen and ran to escape the Callaway name and house. She didn’t want to be trapped by history like Gran. Helen wasn’t even a Callaway.”
Caspian cupped her face. He couldn’t tell if she was angry, frustrated, upset, or all of the three. “I know it’s a shock, but take a breath and think about who put Band-Aids on your grazed knees and read you a bedtime story. Blood means nothing.”
She looked up at him. “But I’m not a Callaway. I don’t know who I am. Gran lied to me.”
“You are a Callaway. You’re tough and smart, just like your grandmother taught you. She loved you like a daughter, raised you. You owe her that respect. If she said nothing, it was to protect you. If she hadn’t claimed your mother, what would’ve happened? Would the child have been sent to an orphanage, placed in state care? Would that have been better?” He cupped her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks.
She bit her lip and shook her head. “Maybe things would’ve been different.”
“You’d trade the love your grandmother gave you?” He couldn’t imagine doing that, but then he’d known since he could speak that he was different. But Lydia needed to see that it didn’t matter who her grandmother was. It was the woman she called Gran who was important. “The important people are the ones who love and care about you.”
