by J. S. Malcom
“You said to bring the talisman.” I finally found the damned thing at the back of my bathroom drawer. Now I wonder if it’s been pulsing magical energy at me every time I’ve taken a pee.
“Press it into your palm and say Idris Elba,” Beatrice says.
I shake my head, thinking I must have heard wrong. “Idris Elba. Like the actor?”
“That’s right.”
I blink rapidly at least ten times. “Why Idris Elba?”
“That’s the password I set for you. We can change it later, if you’d like.”
Okay, whatever. Maybe she just has a thing for Idris Elba, but how did that become my password?
I take the stone from my pocket, press it against my palm and say, “Idris Elba.”
I wait for the Shadow Order headquarters to appear before my eyes. That doesn’t happen. Instead, a giant hole appears in the side of the abandoned warehouse. Within the hole, I see a road and a sunny blue sky.
“Okay, you should see it now,” Beatrice says.
I look past my rain-smeared windshield to the sunny hole. “Am I supposed to drive through that thing?”
“You could walk, if you’d like. Entirely up to you. Either way, I’ll see you soon.”
She hangs up and I start my car again. As I so often do, I imagine Autumn saying, “You’re not really going to do that, are you?” And, as usual, I ignore my sister’s voice of reason. For one thing, I called Beatrice. She didn’t call me. I also need to find someone with the sufficient magical knowledge to help me figure out what I’m up against. Also, I’ve never driven through a portal before. I sort of can’t resist.
I put the car in gear, roll forward, and drive through what should be a brick wall. I find myself driving along a country road beneath a sunny sky, rolling fields spread out to either side. I look into my rearview mirror to see just the long winding road behind me. Nifty, but where the hell am I? A shadow falls over my windshield and I look up to see a large white bird. It’s either a hawk or an eagle, I can’t tell, but the bird stays above me, its wings spread as it glides upon the air.
Soon, the bird disappears over a hill and I keep driving. I clear the incline and see the bird again, this time above where the road forks. It starts circling in the air, as if waiting. No freaking way. Is that bird guiding me?
I approach the fork in the road and the bird starts flying again, following the road to the right. Okay. I go that way and before long my eyes widen at the sight of a structure in the distance. At first I think it’s a house, but as I keep driving I realize it’s not just a house. It’s a small castle, built on the edge of a cliff, beyond that the ocean. What ocean, exactly, I have no idea.
I look up once more as the bird veers off. I squint as it flies toward the sun and suddenly disappears. Right, I guess the bird got its job done, since there’s clearly no doubt about where I’m supposed to go. The castle is the only thing out here. I can either go there, or try to find my way back to the portal. Even if I could, there’s no way of knowing if it will open for me. Just because Idris Elba got me here doesn’t mean he’s getting me back again.
~~~
Ten minutes later, I follow Beatrice through an opulent foyer, down a hall, and into a sitting room with mahogany walls, a massive fireplace, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Beatrice offers me one of four leather wing chairs surrounding a large oval coffee table topped with gold leaf, beneath our feet an ornate rug of cobalt blue with intertwining designs of gold and green. Upon the table rests a silver teapot, steam rising from its spout. We sit across from each other, me in my torn jeans and leather jacket, Beatrice in her cardigan, crisp blouse and wool skirt. Like the first time I met her, she remains a pleasant looking middle-aged lady with slightly graying dark hair and reading glasses dangling from a lanyard at her chest.
“I wasn’t sure if you were a coffee or tea drinker,” Beatrice says. “I hope Lady Grey is suitable. If you’d rather, I could still make coffee.”
“Tea sounds great,” I say. “Where are we?”
“One of our facilities. This one is actually a favorite of mine. Do you like it?”
I look around again. “Sure, it’s nice. I meant, where geographically.”
I brace myself, thinking she might be about to say “Faerie.” We’re in a castle, after all, and a freaking genius bird just showed me how to get here.
“Monterey,” Beatrice says.
I stare at her. “Monterey, California.”
Beatrice nods casually. “Technically, yes, although this location doesn’t exist on any maps.”
Why doesn’t that surprise me?
“What happened to the place where we met before? Where Grayson—” I stop speaking, at a loss for words. Even speaking the name scrambles my mind.
Beatrice nods, seemingly aware of why I didn’t finish my sentence. “For the time being, that facility is offline while it undergoes security upgrades. It seemed a good idea to replace the existing wards. I hope the added distance didn’t pose an inconvenience.”
Considering a hole just opened in the fabric of the universe, allowing me to drive to the other side of the country, I can’t exactly complain. Even if it did take me an additional ten minutes.
“It’s all good,” I say. “The bird was especially helpful.”
“Oh, good.” Beatrice seems genuinely pleased as she fills our teacups. “Milk and sugar?”
I was expecting her to say more about the bird, but evidently she doesn’t think it noteworthy. “That sounds great,” I say. “Thank you.”
Beatrice stirs milk and sugar into our teacups, while I think about where I am. Or, at least, where I think I am. Another Shadow Order headquarters. This time, I can’t attribute what I’m experiencing to some magically induced hallucination. Which means none of it was to begin with. That explanation, I’d grown to accept. Now, I’m forced to confront the reality of the situation. Namely, that the Shadow Order is a real thing. How had Grayson described it again? Right, a trans-coven protective investigative organization. I’m still not quite sure what that means, but it sounds about right for my needs at the moment.
Beatrice gently slides a teacup my way. “So, have you been thinking about what we discussed before?”
I gesture to indicate our surroundings. “Working for you guys.”
She nods. “Despite the origin, the offer still stands.”
“Glad you mentioned that,” I say. “We didn’t really go into it when you, um, came to visit me at Grimoire. But you do realize why I might have a few reservations.”
Beatrice takes a sip of her tea. “Of course, because Grayson was a changeling. I understand perfectly.”
She says it so matter of factly that I can’t help but stare at her again. “And you knew that?”
“We did. Is your tea okay?”
Is she serious? Where are this lady’s priorities? Still, I sip my tea. “It’s perfect. Thank you. So, back to the Grayson-changeling thing. Do you know what happened to him?”
Beatrice keeps her eyes on mine. “We were able to reach certain conclusions. When his body was found—well, the body belonging to the actual Grayson Lonsdale—we knew the changeling inhabiting that body had to be gone. Given your recent association with the changeling Grayson, we deduced that most likely you’d expelled him from the realm. You are a veil witch, after all. So, presumably he went back to Faerie.”
I nod and leave it at that. I just can’t go into the rest right now.
“As we expected,” Beatrice says. “Did you ever discover his actual name?”
“Vintain,” I say, the name, as always, producing a sour taste in my mouth.
“Interesting. I’ve always been curious.”
Despite her composure, my incredulity continues to escalate. “How long did you know?”
“Grayson was with us for nearly twenty years.”
This woman has a way of making me blink a lot. “You knew for twenty years?”
“We suspected. After all, a young man shows up on o
ur doorstep in his early twenties, with magical powers rivaling even those of our greatest mages. He has no magical pedigree whatsoever. Not to sound like an elitist, but within the witch community—especially the mage community—that’s a rare enough event. He asks for a magical education, when clearly he requires none. Yes, we kept him under observation from the start. And, of course, there was also his fixation on attempting to seek out veil witches, or at least potential veil witches. It’s not as if we’re unfamiliar with the lore surrounding Faerie and how that realm came to be cut off from our own.”
This time my mouth drops open. “And you let him hang out with me?”
Beatrice shrugs. “What were we to do?”
I smack my tea cup down against its saucer, splitting it in two. Tea splashes out across the table. “The last veil witch Grayson dated before me ended up suspended somewhere between life and death for fifteen years.”
“That was unfortunate,” Beatrice says. “Again, however, there wasn’t very much we could do. It was a delicate situation.”
Sort of an understatement. I grit my teeth and say, “Delicate, how?”
As if the word “delicate” reminds her, Beatrice absently waggles her forefinger at the table. My broken saucer pieces slide back toward each other and fuse together, golden light glowing around them. The spilled tea vanishes in a quick vapor. I can’t help but notice how effortlessly Beatrice performs this magic. In fact, she barely seems to notice doing it.
Beatrice raises an eyebrow. “First of all, Lauren Flannery was unknown to us, and to the witch community as a whole, before Grayson took up with her. She was essentially a magical recluse. Do you think she would have believed us if one of us showed up at her door and informed her that the man she’d started dating was a changeling?”
“You could have tried,” I say.
“I suppose we could have, but let me put it another way. If I’d shown up at your door claiming the same thing, would you have believed me?”
I think about that for a moment. Given that I had no idea changelings even existed, I have to agree she has a point. Besides, why would I have trusted her over the man with whom I’d become infatuated?
“Probably not,” I say.
“Exactly. You had to work that out for yourself. As did Lauren Flannery. As I said, the result was unfortunate, but it couldn’t be helped. Especially if we wanted to avoid tipping our hand. The only way for us to keep Grayson within our sights was for him not to realize that we knew what he was. Otherwise, he would have gone underground, at which point it might have been decades before we again learned of his whereabouts. You have to understand, Cassie, that we deal with great stakes all the time. We’re fighting multiple battles on multiple fronts. And while the seemingly never ending attempts of the fae to breach this realm again are important, they’re not paramount in our concerns.”
“Then what is?”
Beatrice levels her cool gaze on mine. “Demons, of course. Which, I would imagine, is why you came here today.”
CHAPTER 18
Beatrice explains how the Shadow Order always has been essentially as Grayson claimed it to be—an organization dedicated to the investigation and solving of magical crimes perpetrated against witches. However, that’s not its primary role. Originally, the Shadow Order was founded for a different purpose, to defend against the greatest threat to this realm. Demons.
According to Beatrice, at one point in the distant past, it was the demons who ruled the magic in our realm. But that magic wasn’t meant for them, nor was the realm itself. They were merely intruders who’d found their way in. Over time, as the witches gained in strength and numbers, they also gained control of the ley line. In doing so, they drove the demons out of our physical plane, locking them into the realm they’ve inhabited since. A realm bordering our own, but not a natural part of it.
“Since that day,” Beatrice says, “we’ve managed holding onto that power, but at times just barely. Make no mistake, the demons want this realm and they’ll never stop trying to get it back.”
“So, for them it’s just about power?”
“Not just power, survival. To the demons, our very energy is a food source. By this, I mean psychic energy, particularly our most base emotions. Fear and anguish being primary. The more we suffer, the stronger they grow.”
“I’ve gone up against demons. As you say, those I’ve encountered seemed to thrive on negative energy, predominantly fear. At the same time, so far I’ve always managed to defeat them.”
Beatrice nods, apparently having suspected as much. “As a veil witch, you have a natural defense against interdimensional intruders. More than likely, we’re also talking about low demons. If you ever met a high demon, you’d know.”
Great. Considering that some of those demon encounters scared the piss out of me, this isn’t exactly encouraging news. “As for what’s happening. What do you think is going on?”
“Clearly, someone is tampering with the seam between the demon realm and our own. I’m sure you heard about those events on the news. People talking about seeing a fiery glow, a dark shadow passing over the land, the death of natural things around them. That’s an example of what can happen when the Inversion is opened. The energy that’s released can be unpredictable, oftentimes destructive.”
I keep my eyes on hers. “The Inversion.”
“The demon realm. A parallel dimension from which they feed through the veil, thriving on the energy of humans. However, the barrier between the two realms weakens the connection. What the demons want is to break down that barrier entirely, to merge our realm with their own. In essence, to create a new realm where they subjugate humankind and witches alike.”
Images of my nightmare flash through my mind, those people held trapped and being fed upon. “Can demons take people there? Into their realm, I mean.”
Beatrice nods. “Sometimes, but only those who fall sway to a high demon’s power. In essence, give themselves over to the demon. So, in a sense, those people go there of their own free will. Otherwise, no. Which is why the demons want nothing more than to invade our realm again.”
Despite the horror of the potential large scale threat, I can’t quite get past the first part of what Beatrice said. I can’t for a moment imagine it applying to Bethany, but I need to know as much as possible. “But those who fall sway and go there. How does that happen?”
“The lore surrounding demons isn’t far from the truth. Demons make promises. They appeal to greed, hatred and the need for revenge. Whatever powerful negative emotions they can latch onto. In our culture, we often describe it as making a deal with the devil. That’s also where our stories of hell originate, although it would be more realistic to say that the soul is willingly lost through a connection with dark forces.”
“What about vampires? Can they go there?”
Beatrice looks at me curiously for a moment. “Yes since, technically, they’re no longer of this realm. Why they would, I’m not sure. Their food source is here.”
I decide to leave that for now. I’ll have to figure out what that part of the dream—or, perhaps vision—meant later. The next question, I’m afraid to ask, since I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.
“What about witches. Can we go there?”
“Only one kind of witch can open the gap between realms.”
“In other words, a veil witch.”
“Exactly. A veil witch.”
“Could a veil witch potentially bring another witch into the Inversion?”
Beatrice considers for a moment. “Theoretically, yes. Once the veil has been opened, I suppose she could.”
Which, of course, leaves one final question. “Would that person have to go willingly?”
“I suppose not. A veil witch could use other means to take someone there. For example, by casting a spell. But why would she?”
“I’m not sure,” I say. “But I believe that’s exactly what’s happened.”
“And this person is a friend o
f yours,” Beatrice says. “Otherwise, I suspect, you wouldn’t be here.”
I see no point in denying it. “Yes.”
Beatrice sighs as she considers the situation and, presumably, its connotations. I suspect that she reaches the same conclusion that Phoenix did before. Namely, that Bethany is being used as bait in some sort of game. After all, what else could her capture possibly mean?
Finally, Beatrice says, “We’ll help you, of course. But, Cassie, there’s one thing I need to know.”
I try to think if there might be something I left out. I can’t think of anything. “What’s that?”
“Have you ever considered working with a team? Because something tells me you’re going to need all the help you can get.”
CHAPTER 19
Beatrice and I walk down a stone corridor as I reflect on what she just asked me. It was a strangely timed question, considering my thoughts last night. So many times, I’ve tried to go it alone. I’ve been too stubborn to admit that I might need help. In fact, I’ve kept my own sister from helping me. I’ve always told myself it was for her own good, but have I been honest with myself? Or has my past—after leaving me reliant on someone else for so long—had a backlash effect making me dangerously independent now?
I just don’t know.
Ironically, it was Julia—that same person upon whom I was so long dependent for survival—who taught me never to ignore a coincidence. For that reason, I decide to go along with what Beatrice suggested, the idea of opening myself up to working with others. The fact is, even now, I feel myself fighting against it. I have to force myself to keep walking, instead of doing what I’d normally do—make up some excuse and get out of there. Just go it alone, take my chances and dive in. The problem being, one of these days my luck might run out.
We walk down that first hall, and then another. Our footsteps echo off of stone walls while Beatrice tells me another thing I couldn’t have imagined.
“Grayson may have lied to you about many things,” she says, “but one thing he told you was true. We really have wanted to work with you. As a veil witch, you possess invaluable magical skills. As with each mage in our organization, we strive to be sure of the utmost magical potential.”
