Rituals

by Kelley Armstrong

  "Yes. I should have made certain."

  His mistake was understandable. He put out a summons. Someone answered and gave him what he expected. Having never done such a deal, he'd have no way to test the messenger, no cause for doubt.

  "So we're now thinking it was a sluagh in manifested form," I said. "Probably the same one who contacted my father, telling him how to summon you."

  Ricky nodded. "A setup from the start. The sluagh prod Todd to ask for the deal. Then they intercept the message and negotiate the terms."

  "Which gives them power over me," I said. "That's what the sluagh meant, isn't it? That it was the one who cured my spina bifida. That puts me in its debt. In its power."

  "It shouldn't," Ioan said. "The price was paid. Four souls. The sluagh accepted its reward and should have no further claim on you."

  " 'Should' being the operative word."

  BONDING

  "Dryads," Patrick said when Gabriel met him in the parking lot. "Why does it have to be dryads?" When Gabriel didn't respond, Patrick said, "Raiders of the Lost Ark?"

  "Is that a book?"

  Patrick shook his head. "We have serious father-son bonding time to catch up on. We'll start with movie nights."

  "This sort of bonding is perfectly adequate."

  "This isn't bonding. It's me doing you a favor because I feel guilty."

  "That is my idea of bonding. And it's not a favor--you're as curious as I am."

  Patrick caught the exterior door before Gabriel could open it. "Dryads, though? They make me look like a stodgy old man. Flibbertigibbets. That's Mary Poppins. We'll get to it after the action flicks. But dryads? Really?"

  "Yes, they're capricious."

  "That's like saying the ocean is damp."

  "They found Seanna."

  "They claim to have found her."

  "Which means either they are far less inept than they appear or far less innocent. Either makes them interesting."

  Patrick sighed. "Of all the things you could inherit from me, curiosity is the one most likely to get you into trouble."

  They walked into the office, where the dryads were trying to figure out the coffeemaker.

  "I really don't think you guys need any of that," Patrick said.

  The dryads turned, and Helia let out a teen-girl yelp. "Oh my gods, it's Patricia Rees!"

  Patrick stopped mid-step.

  Helia rushed over. "I love your books. We love them." She paused. "Well, except the last few."

  Alexios nodded. "You do better with the gothics."

  "I see..." Patrick said.

  "Overall, the paranormal ones are okay," Alexios said. "The last one just went on way too long. Did you run out of time to edit?"

  "Not...really."

  Helia whispered to Alexios, "I don't think he wants to hear what's wrong with his book."

  "I'm trying to help."

  "The book is already out. He can't fix it now."

  "But he'll know better for next time. Maybe he can hire a new editor."

  She looked at Patrick. "It was good enough. Seven out of ten. It's just that you're usually a nine. Well, your paranormals are more of an eight, but you could get them up to a nine if you worked harder."

  "Or just go back to the gothics," Alexios said. "They were much better. I couldn't get through this last book."

  "He didn't even just skip ahead to read the sex scenes," Helia said. "Which is what he normally does with your paranormals."

  Patrick turned to Gabriel. "This is your revenge, isn't it?"

  "Helia and Alexios?" Gabriel said. "This is Patrick. He'll be accompanying us to Seanna."

  "Oooh," Alexios said. "It's a family reunion."

  "So you really are Gabriel's father?" Helia said. "That's what everyone says, but then we found Seanna and started thinking maybe the rumor was wrong, that you two couldn't have...you know. She seems kind of..." She wrinkled her nose.

  "Nasty."

  "Maybe he likes nasty," Alexios said. "You've read his sex scenes."

  "I'm not sure they're meant to be nasty."

  "I believe it's time to go," Gabriel said, ushering them out.

  "Well played," Patrick murmured as he passed. "Well played."

  --

  The Jag idled beside an abandoned three-story school. As soon as the car rolled to a stop, the dryads had hopped out with "We'll find her" and "We'll call."

  Gabriel and Patrick watched them dart alongside the boarded-up building.

  "Well, this looks sketchy," Patrick said. When Gabriel looked over, he added, "It means disreputable and suspicious. I'm a writer. I know all the lingo."

  "I know what it means. I'm a defense attorney. And I have Olivia, who has used the term on occasion, along with others that aren't in my usual vocabulary." He surveyed the building. "Yes, it is disreputable and, in being disreputable, given the situation, suspicious."

  "Sketchy."

  "That is a vague term, used somewhat incorrectly, and therefore imprecise."

  "You always use precisely the right words. Another trait inherited from your father."

  "I read a chapter of the book you gave Olivia. I believe, wherever that trait came from, it was clearly an outside influence."

  "Ouch." A moment of silence as they watched the dryads slip through a broken window. "So the book...Paranormal fiction isn't your kind of thing?"

  "My tastes are eclectic. I would not dismiss a novel simply because I haven't read that genre before."

  "Double ouch."

  "That wasn't intended as an insult. I simply discovered that reading a book you'd written was not a properly immersive entertainment experience. I hear your voice, which hardly allows me to fall into the world of your female, human narrator."

  "Okay. I'll take that." Patrick looked at the school. "So, the dryads are leading us into a trap. Unfortunately, being dryads, they've done a very poor--and obvious--job of it."

  "Yes."

  "You're not going to tell me it's actually a good thing we've seen the trap?"

  "No."

  Patrick grinned. "Because that makes it less of a challenge. See, this is why we work together so well. I was hoping you'd call me in when Liv was gone this fall."

  "Call you in?"

  "The last time Liv was away, you called me to help on a case."

  "No, you gave me a case. And tried to insist we work it together."

  "Same thing."

  "Not even a little."

  "You've been hanging with Liv too much. You're becoming a smart-ass."

  "I always was. You just never had enough interaction with me to realize it. Now, are we going to sit here and talk until they have the trap set?"

  "That'd be more fun."

  Gabriel opened the car door and climbed out.

  --

  The dryads had entered through a window that, upon closer inspection, was not merely broken but boarded. The boards, however, were only partly nailed and could be swung aside. Once they were through, Gabriel took out his cell, turned on the light, looked around, and saw a problem. Possibly a significant one.

  It looked as if some effort at reconstruction had been made years ago, the drywall torn out and the flooring removed, leaving wooden studded walls and bare underlay floor.

  Wood. Lots of wood. Which dryads used for camouflage. As Gabriel recalled, though, it worked better in the forest, against uneven surfaces. He continued into the hall and then paused as light footfalls sounded overhead.

  "Time to find a way up," Patrick whispered. "I vote..." He looked both ways. "Left."

  "It's right," Gabriel said, and started walking.

  "Are you just being contrary? Because--"

  Gabriel pointed to the floor, where dusty footsteps led right. He followed them down two corridors to where stairs had been torn out, possibly to keep squatters from accessing the upper floors.

  "That's inconvenient," Patrick said.

  Gabriel ignored him. Presumably, dryads could not fly. Therefore they'd gone another
way. He picked through the debris until he found the dryads' footprints, which led to a service elevator. The doors stood open, the car stopped eight feet off the ground.

  When Gabriel looked around for more footprints, Patrick shook his head. "No, this is the way. Damn dryads are like monkeys. Give me a boost."

  Gabriel did. Then he walked off as Patrick called, "Where are you going?"

  "To find something to step on."

  "You're a big guy. Haul your ass on up here."

  "The fact that I'm a 'big guy' means that my 'ass' and the rest of me requires additional upper-body strength to lift."

  "No, you just don't like to roll up your sleeves and get dirty. Why are you wearing a dress shirt anyway? It's Saturday. Wait..." Patrick peered down at him. "You aren't wearing a tie. I knew there was something different. No tie. Top button undone..."

  "If I'm not wearing a tie, I'm hardly going to fasten my top button."

  "I don't think I've ever seen you without a tie."

  "You have. You just didn't notice."

  Gabriel unbuttoned his cuffs and meticulously rolled his sleeves. It was not so much a matter of getting dirty as of permanently damaging an expensive shirt. He'd already lost one today, and while he did not regret the loss if he was going to damage shirts, he'd rather lose them in that manner.

  Gabriel grabbed the bottom of the elevator car and hauled himself up, hoping the exertion might distract him from the memory of how he had lost that other shirt. It did not. When he pulled himself into the car, he stepped past Patrick and took out his phone.

  "What are you doing now?" Patrick whispered.

  "I need to check in with Olivia."

  "This very moment?"

  "Yes."

  He checked his texts--none from Olivia--sent one, and then took another moment to fully distract himself.

  "You're checking your stocks?" Patrick said, looking over his shoulder.

  The market was slightly down, which had the proper effect, as did the disappointment of not having Olivia immediately text him back. He didn't expect her to--she was busy--but it successfully redirected his thoughts to the matter at hand.

  "Oh, now we can leave?" Patrick said as Gabriel hefted himself out of the car onto the next floor. "Are you sure you don't want the weather report first?"

  "Clear and cold," Gabriel said. "A chance of light snowfall tonight."

  Patrick pulled himself from the elevator car. Gabriel continued tracking the dryad footprints down the hall. He was almost to the end when a sound made the hairs on his neck rise, and he stopped short, Patrick bumping into him.

  "Time to check sports scores?" Patrick said. When Gabriel didn't respond, Patrick saw his expression and lowered his voice. "Gabriel?"

  "Did you hear that?"

  The sound came again. He couldn't quite place it. No, that was a lie. A shameful one, born of fear rather than uncertainty, like a child listening to thumps under the bed and telling himself he'd heard nothing.

  Gabriel had spent twenty years building his defenses. Grow up, get in shape, learn to fight, and banish his fear of physical intimidation and abuse. Go to law school, work hard, invest wisely, and banish his fear of hunger and poverty. Learn to live alone, without attachments, and banish his fear of neglect and abandonment.

  The last two were not ones he would ever acknowledge, but he had enough self-awareness to know they festered there, remnants of a very small boy who would light up when his mother was kind and then analyze his behavior to figure out what he'd done to please her. That child did not survive long--he quickly evolved into a boy who realized Seanna's kindness was as capricious as the moods of a dryad, untethered to his actions.

  Gabriel had gone years without knowing true fear. That changed with Olivia. Allowing himself to form an attachment meant allowing himself to fear for another person. And, yes, to fear that person would leave him, would decide he was really too much trouble.

  But the fear strumming through him now? The one that made him lie and insist he'd heard nothing? It was a fear he hadn't experienced since he'd been locked in that cubby, hearing the creaks and rattles of an old building and imagining all the terrifying creatures from his aunt Rose's wonderful and terrible books. It was, indeed, the fear of the child who dares not look under the bed.

  Gabriel heard the beating of wings against glass.

  He knew there was a rational explanation. Perhaps a bird had flown into a window. Or it was simply the wind. But it sounded like what he'd heard with Olivia in the vision, and therefore that was what came to mind, dragging with it the sheer and mindless fear he'd felt then, trapped between himself and Gwynn and some memory so deeply rooted it was part of both human and fae DNA.

  The sluagh is coming. The unforgiven is coming. The darkness is coming.

  "Gabriel?" Patrick prompted.

  "Whatever it was, I don't hear it now," Gabriel said quickly. "I do hear the dryads, though. Coming this way."

  Which was true. Their light footsteps pitter-pattered over the boards, like scampering woodland creatures. Gabriel stood his ground, and the dryads veered around the doorway and stopped short.

  "You didn't wait," Helia said.

  "You were supposed to wait," Alexios said.

  "Yes," Gabriel said.

  Alexios nudged Helia. "See? I told you he wouldn't. Gwynn does not follow the orders of mere semi-immortals." He looked at Gabriel. "I know you don't like that name. I just meant--"

  "I understand what you meant. And no, if I do not wish to wait, I don't."

  Alexios smiled. "Good. You shouldn't. You're king of the Fae. And if they"--he nodded to Patrick--"try to say otherwise, tell them where to shove it. You have the power to do that. Don't ever forget it."

  Patrick's brows lifted.

  "We were coming to get you," Helia said. "We just wanted to make sure Seanna's still here."

  "It would be very embarrassing if she wasn't," Alexios said. "We also needed to make sure no one else had found her in the meantime. The mother of Gwynn is valuable. Others are looking. We've heard there is a reward for her capture."

  "That would be mine," Patrick said.

  "You only offered money," Helia said. "Others offer more."

  "What others?"

  "Those hunting wouldn't tell us. We tried insisting. We even threatened. But no one ever takes us seriously when we threaten."

  "Not even when we scowl." Alexios looked at Gabriel. "You could make them talk. You have a good scowl."

  "Where is Seanna?" Patrick said. "Every second you delay, my reward drops."

  Alexios wrinkled his nose. "We don't want your money."

  "Wouldn't take it," Helia said. "Money only causes trouble. We hope to win the goodwill of Olivia and Gabriel, but that is a hope, not a price for our help."

  "Where is--?" Patrick began.

  They turned and zoomed off.

  Gabriel and Patrick followed. It was the only way to see what scheme the dryads were hatching.

  As they walked, Gabriel's phone buzzed with an incoming text from Olivia.

  All done. Meet up?

  He sent back, I'm in the middle of something. I'll call you within the hour.

  He hit three wrong keys typing that--his fingers were just too big for a phone keypad. Olivia would say that was a sign he should learn text-speak. Or at least allow himself to write sentence fragments. He would rather correct the mistakes.

  He sent the message and then hesitated, his fingers still over the keys. Should he add more, now that their relationship had changed?

  Miss you? It'd been two hours, and he did miss her, but it might make him seem needy.

  Love you? If he hadn't said the words in person, he certainly shouldn't say them in a text, not in such a jaunty, offhand way. And if he did send that message, he suspected Olivia would come running, thinking someone had stolen his phone.

  In the time he paused, she sent back, Meet at office. Need to check a file.

  He still hesitated, his fingers ready to typ
e back his usual All right.

  "Put the phone away," Patrick whispered. "You'll see her soon enough."

  Perfect. Gabriel texted, See you soon, and a moment later she sent back a smiley face. He allowed a hint of a smile himself and pushed the phone into his pocket.

  --

  The dryads scampered ahead, not even looking over their shoulders. When they reached the middle of the floor, they flanked a classroom doorway and said, "Ta-da!"

  Gabriel let Patrick go first, reasoning that, as a fae, he might have more protection against whatever lay inside. Gabriel followed right at his heels, though, curiosity prodding him forward even as he tried to pace himself, ears attuned for a rear ambush.

  Inside the room, they found...Seanna.

  "She's bound," Patrick said.

  "How else could we make sure she stayed put?" Alexios said.

  "And gagged," Patrick said.

  Helia looked at him. "You've met her. Can you blame us?"

  Gabriel ignored Seanna's glowers. It was indeed much easier to deal with her--and ignore her--when she was in this particular state. He moved farther into the room and then realized the dryads still flanked the door. He waved them inside. They obeyed without hesitation.

  It was a classroom, like all the others they'd passed. No windows. A flashlight propped up in one corner. A sleeping bag and nest of blankets. To one side, a duffel spilled clothing. Fast-food wrappers littered the floor.

  Seanna must have been squatting here when the dryads found her. The sight of her "camp" brought back memories of Gabriel's own years on the street. Except he'd been unable to afford fast food. Or a sleeping bag.

  "I'll need to question her," he said. "Then we'll take her to the police, to prove she is alive."

  And after that? He hadn't thought of what he'd do with Seanna after that. He had ideas, most of which involved very deep holes, but they were only fleeting fancies. While Olivia would doubtless say he deserved to entertain those fancies, he wanted to rise above them.

  The deep-hole fantasy wasn't about punishing Seanna; it was about protecting Olivia. Protecting Rose. Even protecting himself and the life he'd built. Put Seanna someplace she couldn't harm them.

  Jail seemed the best solution. He was still working out the logistics for that. It might involve accusing her of a crime she had not committed. And no, he would not feel the slightest bit guilty for that.

  "I will ask you to escort her out," Gabriel continued. "I have sedatives, if it proves necessary."

  "You brought sedatives?" Patrick said. "It seemed wise."

  "You have sedatives just lying around your house?"