Infinity Key (Senyaza Series Book 2)

by Chrysoula Tzavelas

  “So where is everybody? Special investigating or threatening?”

  “Recuperating. Sometimes it takes more than a month to recover from being practically dead.” Corbin spun in his chair to inspect the table. It was covered with various kinds of hardware, and he picked up an LCD screen and started fidgeting with it.

  “It’s been a bad month,” added Simon, still playing his game. Something exploded on his screen and he cursed under his breath. “Why is she here, Corbin?”

  “She wanted to talk about the fae and I've got something breakable in progress at my lab.”

  Branwyn smiled and took her cue. She started with the basics. “Yeah, so they were locked away, and then the apocalypse twins did something, and now they’re supposedly not locked away so much. True or false?” The “apocalypse twins” were Zachariah’s preschooler wards. Apparently nephilim were especially dangerous when young, and these two were more of a handful than most. Their uncle paid Marley a lot for looking after them.

  Corbin scowled. “First of all, they’re not ‘the apocalypse twins’ and you’re not helping by calling them that. Otherwise… basically true.”

  “Why hasn’t anybody noticed a bunch of faeries running through the streets, then?” Branwyn sat on the Queen Anne chair.

  “You’ve met them. Would you notice?”

  Branwyn’s breath hissed between her teeth. “Would I notice them? Yeah… but not as faeries. Not unless they were dressed up as pixies.”

  “There you go then. Some of them are already working their particular form of magic on the world, but they’re still limited in how long they can stay out, and when they’re drawn back behind the curtain, the magic goes with them.”

  Branwyn gave him an encouraging nod and squirmed, getting comfortable “Ah, the good stuff. Do go on. What is their magic? Do the consequences vanish when the magic does?”

  “It’s big and complicated, pet. Are you sure you want to fill your innocent bystander head with things like that?” Simon addressed his screen again.

  Something of Branwyn’s suppressed flare of temper must have showed on her face, because Corbin said quickly, “Simon, you’re going to get cut again, and when you sober up, I’m not even going to explain why.”

  Simon only chuckled, and Corbin added, “Sorry. Ignore him. Where were we? Right. As well as celestial magic, the faeries use their own form of magic, which involves manipulating the matter of the world both directly and via the shadows cast on the Backworld.” Branwyn wondered if Corbin was reciting directly from a memorized book. Her brother Howl memorized books and talked like that sometimes. She probably ought to introduce them.

  Corbin kept going. “It’s not something I’ve really had a chance to study yet. But I know that before last month, each faerie Duchy could only slip one member past the curtain once a year. When their time was up, they were drawn back through the curtain and any magic they worked vanished. You’ve heard stories of fairy gold and how it turned to leaves upon the dawn? Well, now that part of the barrier has been broken, more of them can come out for longer periods of time. But they’re still ultimately drawn back in again.”

  Branwyn thought about what Tarn had said. It sounded like what little he’d told her had been the truth. How unexpected! “So things they change magically don't stay changed. Good to know. I'll make sure to spend any fairy money quickly.” She paused, thinking more about Penny than fairy gold, then added, “Just my little joke. How long can they stay out now?”

  Corbin frowned at her attempt at humor. “No idea. I think it depends on the Courts. There’s faerie Dukes and faerie Queens and the power is split somehow. I think that the faerie Queens serve as power converters. But even that’s just a hunch.” Corbin shrugged. “Up until recently, there was just no reason to prioritize studying them.”

  Scratching her nose, Branwyn asked, “How dangerous are they now that they're here sometimes? Are they a capital-T Threat?”

  He gave her an irritated look. “They’re so dangerous that the angels and the demons actually cooperated to keep them out of the affairs of Creation and restrict their access to the Sea of Dreams.”

  Branwyn looked around at the nearly empty office. “What, each and every one of them? You and your monster-hunter boys are going to have your hands full, then. When they all get back from vacation, I mean.”

  Corbin ran his hand through his hair. “Senyaza is officially observing the situation for now. The world isn’t the same as it was when they were first locked away.”

  Branwyn tilted her head, then brushed a green tendril of hair away from her face. “How long have they been in the penalty box?”

  “Thousands of years,” Corbin said flatly.

  Branwyn tried to imagine being imprisoned for thousands of years and winced. Then she moved on to the next question in her mental list. “Have—“

  Corbin interrupted her, his eyes hard. “Branwyn, what are you planning? You don't ask questions like this unless you're plotting something.”

  “Hey, innocent bystander here. I’ve got all these cute little charms you gave me. How could I be more?” She matched his stare until he cursed and looked away. Then she stretched out her legs, resting them on a red swivel chair, “Come on, just a few more answers, Corbin.”

  He ground his palms into his forehead, then made a frustrated gesture with his hand that she chose to interpret as “Please continue”, so she did. “Have you ever read anything about humans learning magic from faeries?”

  “No,” Corbin said, so fast she was sure he didn’t even bother to think about the question. It was hurtful, really. “I mostly hear about humans being seduced and destroyed by them. Or hunted down like animals. Or kept in menageries. Nice little prisons filled with everything they think their pets want.”

  “Ooh, nasty. How very human. Do they lie?”

  More slowly, Corbin said, “As much as any celestial, most of the time. More, maybe. But their rulers, the Dukes and Queens, can’t lie within their faerie realms. They’re bound too closely together.”

  Branwyn gave Corbin a dazzling smile and swung her legs down. “Excellent. Thank you very much. I shall be sure to speak kindly of you to others.”

  “Branwyn, do me a favor and don’t do anything stupid.”

  Simon snorted at his screen. Branwyn ignored him blithely. “You said you could track me down anywhere. And you gave me that handy beacon charm, the one for lost children, right? How much trouble could I get into?”

  Corbin pressed his hand against his head again. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you just said that.”

  Branwyn leaned over and patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry. Marley knows me. If anything happens to me, she’ll know who to blame, and it won’t be you.” She considered. “Or herself.”

  In a strangled voice, Corbin said, “What are you going to do?”

  Branwyn hesitated, then said, “I’m just going to talk to Tarn again. Relax. Or worry, if you want. Use it as an excuse to call Marley, I don’t mind.”

  “’Talk’,” snickered Simon.

  Corbin stared at her for a long moment, then turned his attention to the screen he'd dropped, as if changing the channel. His voice chilly, he said, “Use your eyes, and use the Sight, and stay out of the Backworld as much as possible.”

  “But you said Tarn couldn’t lie in the Backworld—”

  His voice cut over hers. “He can’t. But you can’t run. Your memory for bad situations is about as good as Marley’s.”

  Branwyn took a deep breath and leaned forward, ready to launch into an aggressive defense, but a hand took her elbow and hefted her to her feet. “Easy now, girlie,” Simon warned.

  She pulled herself away from the whiff of alcohol. “Keep your hands off me,” she said, far more polite than she could have been.

  “Fair enough. But I’m thinking that it’s probably high time for you to be heading out, eh?” Simon grinned at her.

  Branwyn looked at Corbin, who didn’t bother looking at her. He glowered
at his gadget, as if he couldn’t make it work the way he wanted it to.

  “Yeah, sure. See you around, Corbin. Thanks for the information.” Then, because she couldn’t resist, she added, “I’ll tell Marley you asked after her.”

  His baleful gaze slid over to her. “You’re welcome. And don’t bother about Marley. It doesn’t matter.”

  “And out we go!” said Simon, with the cheeriness of a preschool teacher. He moved his hands as if to guide Branwyn again, pulled them back, then flapped them like she was a wayward cat he was shooing ahead. Branwyn gave him a disdainful look, then left the office.

  To her surprise, Simon followed, falling into step beside her. In a more normal voice, he said, “Sorry about that. Got a sense for these things and you two looked like you were heading for a knock-down fight. Normally I’d just place my bets, but it didn’t seem like it would pay out. He’s been moody as hell since meeting this girl.”

  Branwyn eyed him, re-evaluating her first impressions. “A sense? Like a charm or whatever?”

  “Nah. You hang around enough blood-hungry warriors, you start to learn the signs."

  Branwyn laughed despite herself. Blood-hungry warriors. She liked the sound of that.

  “So what are you?” Simon went on. “Not a wizard. Not a groupie, I think. And certainly not an innocent bystander.”

  “Groupie?” Branwyn’s irritation with the man returned full force. “What the hell made you think that?”

  Simon shrugged. “You want to get up close and personal with the fae. And you’ve already got the scent of monster in your hair.”

  Branwyn recoiled. “What are you talking about?”

  Simon’s bloodshot eyes crinkled. “Maybe not on your actual hair, style of thing. But you’ve got the whiff of kaiju, a big monster, all over you. There’s been one very near you for a few weeks at least. Haven’t you noticed?”

  “Why didn’t Corbin say anything?” Branwyn demanded.

  “Oh, well, Corbin’s a good kid. Owe him my life, as a matter of fact. But he’s what, thirty? I've been in this business for at least that long. A lot of skills you just pick up with time.”

  -four-

  Branwyn sat at the table in her dining nook, watching Marley get ready to go to dinner with Zachariah and the twins. She did wonder how Zachariah had managed preserve diplomatic relations when Corbin hadn't. Probably through underhanded means.

  It was nice to see Marley getting out of the apartment more, and the kids were adorable, but Zachariah was not her idea of a good date. He knew what he wanted and he didn't seem to have any scruples when it came to going after it. This was not, Branwyn felt, a good tactic when pursuing a relationship. No, she couldn't approve. The best she could do was not make a big deal about it, and because it was important to Marley, she did her best.

  She focused on her own plans for the evening instead.

  She could fit what she knew about the various celestial factions on a Post-it note. The semi-mortal nephilim, with their magic and their big corporation and, most importantly, her two best friends, had interested her much more. She knew the celestials included angels and demons and faeries and the kaiju—maybe even more she didn’t know about. It seemed like pop culture existed solely to influence her ideas about the first three.

  More specifically, she knew an angel had hurt Penny, tried to kill Marley, and that the faeries had been imprisoned, probably unfairly. She knew they all lived a very long time, maybe couldn't even die as she understood the concept. But the kaiju were only ever described as “monsters,” and the only one she’d met had looked very much like a man.

  As Branwyn considered him, Marley paused while checking her makeup and frowned at her in the reflection. It wasn’t a good frown, a “reconsidering her relationship choices” frown. It was the kind of frown she frowned when she suspected Branwyn was about to misbehave. Marley’s personal brand of nephil magic let her see if somebody was contemplating a dangerous course of action, which was sometimes damned inconvenient, but made her a very reliable babysitter.

  Branwyn met her gaze and thought hard about the nice bath she was going to take once Marley was gone. Then, because that probably wasn’t good enough, she added, “Corbin asked about you when I saw him today.”

  Marley’s mouth tightened. “He thinks it should be so simple. He doesn’t know Zachariah.”

  Judiciously, Branwyn said, “I think he does know Zachariah and that’s why he’s worried.”

  Turning away from the mirror, Marley said, “I can’t just blow Zachariah off. I made a promise to the kids. I can’t be there for them and just ignore their guardian.”

  “You could if he’d let you. That he’s not willing to back off and let you figure out what you want makes him an encroaching, controlling bastard, Marley.”

  Marley sighed. “I know. It’s complicated.” She scooped up her purse. “What did you tell Corbin?”

  “I told him to call you himself.”

  “Hah. And he hasn’t. They could both make it easier. The kids are really enough of a handful, you know?”

  Branwyn, eldest of seven, assured her she knew.

  After she was gone, Branwyn took her bath, mostly to get it out of the way, but she found herself paying special attention to lathering up her hair. Simon had said the “scent” was metaphorical and thus probably not something she could wash off, but she still tried her damnedest. She wondered if he really had been drunk, or imagining things, or just screwing with her.

  Somehow, she doubted it.

  In the hall, she stopped and looked at a photo of herself, Penny, and Marley that hung on the wall. It was from their high school graduation, in their street clothes but with the tasseled caps still on. Branwyn was between Marley and Penny, and all three of them were smiling, each in their own way. Marley smiled with her eyes mostly, her mouth only curving slightly; it was too used to a pensive frown. Branwyn was too familiar with her own grin to notice it, but she spent a moment looking at Penny's smile. Penny could turn her smile off and on like a light switch, whenever it was appropriate, but Branwyn remembered Penny laughing all day at graduation, overcome with giddiness that she'd made it through high school without disappointing her parents too much.

  Branwyn brushed her finger over the picture glass. There was still so much to come for that Penny: college, trips to Europe, an ongoing flirtation with fashion and design and a neverending pursuit of her own identity. Branwyn had never felt as adrift as Penny sometimes seemed to. But she firmly believed everybody found their place eventually. Before, she'd been willing to help Penny find hers. Now she was determined.

  She paced out to the living room. The Backworld was everywhere, on the other side of a supernatural curtain. Anybody with the power and the skill could be watching from a space just beyond everything she could touch. Moving past the curtain could be a challenge, but being a supernatural peeping Tom didn’t seem to take a whole lot of talent. It wasn’t the sort of thing that seemed to bother Marley, but the idea creeped Branwyn out.

  “Severin? Are you watching me?” She called out the human name of the kaiju she’d met briefly. After a few moments of standing still, listening to the silence while her skin prickled, she swore at herself. Taking a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard, she poured out two tumblers and set one of them down on the table. After taking a big gulp from her own, she cast her mind back to their first meeting. Marley had called him by his human name, too, and he hadn’t responded. But Corbin had called him something else.

  "Whispering Dark?” The words sank into the stillness of the room, absorbed by the secondhand furniture and all the shelves of Marley’s books. It was foolishness. Angry at herself for believing, even for a moment, Branwyn drained the rest of her glass. She was human. Corbin had called and he'd shown up, but what did she have other than a burning desire to improve herself?

  “A few more like that and you could hallucinate me.” A man sat at the table. He had dark brown hair that just reached his collar and a pleasantly att
ractive face, the kind that always faintly reminded you of somebody seen on TV that one time. He was clean-shaven, with a chiseled jawline and a straight nose and his eyes were—

  His eyes were nightmares. Meeting his gaze made Branwyn want to gag and scrub out her brain. If she were to draw him, she’d tear holes in the paper rather than try to channel that brief glimpse. She hadn’t remembered this. She hadn’t ever had a chance to look into his eyes before.

  He smirked, and she realized her fingers were tangled into her hair, her palms pressing hard on her temples. Her glass was on the carpet at her feet, the few remaining drops spilling out.

  Picking up the glass she’d set out for him, he sniffed the contents. “You certainly don’t have the power to craft an attractive invitation like the raven boy did, even if you do share his impatience. If I hadn’t been passing through the neighborhood, you’d still be standing here, all alone, begging silence to speak to you. Praying, one might say.” He sipped the whiskey. “That would be embarrassing for you.”

  Branwyn pulled her hands away from her head and smoothed them against her jeans. He watched in apparent interest. “Would you like a small, still voice inside?”

  I can do that. The silent voice crawled up her spine.

  “No! Don’t…” The plea escaped before she could stop it.

  He put down the glass and stood up. He wasn’t particularly large, and nowhere near as tall as Tarn, but the room was suddenly much too small. “Oh, but I want to. Very much.” His voice was soft, almost silky.

  Branwyn forced herself to think, despite the fear nibbling at the edges of her mind. She’d asked him here. She’d had a reason. Her fear was in the way.

  “Look at you, cupcake. You’ve been fitted up with all the latest pet-management charms from the raven boy. You’ve even got a call for help installed.” He stretched out one hand and traced her outline from two yards away, just as Tarn had done before. His words reignited the tiniest flare of resentment, a flame licking through the fear. “But you know that by the time he got here, there’d be nothing recognizable left of you.” It was a promise, not a question. He thought for a moment. “Actually, if you want to call him, I’d wait until he was here. That would be more fun.”