"His family tried to arrange a marriage," Angela corrected. "He was only a few years older than her, at the time. And even back then, there were questions about the honor and loyalty of his clan."
"Even more reason for her to want to totally destroy the guy," Lanie said. She flinched and sat up straight again when her cell phone went off. She grinned when Angela sighed at the rollicking tune of "The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything". Her grin faded quickly as she listened to her caller. She snapped off an affirmative and shut the phone. "Second wave moving in."
"Of course." Angela felt almost relieved to know that the expected had happened. More of Wolcott's men had moved into position, surrounding the park, just as Stanzer and the rest of the Hunt had anticipated. One nice thing about villains, she decided, was that they were predictable--they always thought promises never applied to them, unless it was to their advantage--and they always tried to stack the deck.
"Look out," Lanie muttered, as Wolcott sat up and jabbed something at Cinden. From the spark at the end of the short, dark thing, it was probably a Taser.
The other members of the Hunt stepped out of hiding. Their voices carried, but not their words. Wolcott laughed, sneering at them, arguing. Thunder crackled through the air as the sky turned black and a stiff wind that swirled down from everywhere at once blew through the park.
Hounds flashed into being, surrounding the amphitheater. Wolcott's men went flying, surrounded by silver sparks, or bowled over and knocked unconscious by the inter-dimensional guardian beasts. Wolcott got up and flung his weapon at Cinden as he turned to flee. A single Hound appeared from a slit in the air, making the Taser vanish in a flare of light. Then it knocked the man down and sat on him. It grew to a beast five times the size it had been.
And took Wolcott's head into its mouth.
The seven members of the Hunt clung together, looking away. Angela focused on the face of young Obie Wolcott, who had taken his grandfather's position in the Hunt, making good on the vows his ancestors had falsely made on the other side of the dimensional gate. She pitied the boy, knowing his grandfather was being punished, not knowing what that punishment would be. It had to be hard for him, even knowing that his grandfather had killed Obie's father because he considered him a weakling and a traitor.
Then the first shock wave of power rushing out from the Hounds reached Angela, Lanie and Maurice. Lanie snatched Maurice out of the air, clutching him close, while Angela bowed herself over Lanie's wheelchair and they clung together. The power didn't disturb the trees and grass, but the psionic equivalent of a heavy, grit-filled wind pushed them away, scorching them, making their fingers and toes and noses tingle, making their hair stand on end for a few painful moments. A brilliant flash of lightning shot up from the ground where the Hound had been to the sky.
This time, Angela heard the single chiming of an enormous bell, deep and strong, almost ponderous in its reverberation. Just as Lanie had described it, the bell sounded as big as the town.
She shuddered, wondering who else might have heard that bell ring.
* * * *
Ethan struggled out of his desk chair, knocking his mug of coffee off the desk onto the floor. He rubbed his arms and chest, trying to relieve the sensation of ants and sand being rubbed into his skin, fighting the urge to tear off all his clothes and scratch.
As the snap-rasp of his mug shattering on the tile floor slapped at his ears, the itching sensation settled into his bones. Breathless, he leaned forward, bracing himself on his desk, head bowed. Through half-closed eyes, he caught a sudden flare of light from a half-open drawer. Ethan stared at it, until the light started to fade. Then he snatched at the drawer pull, yanking it open.
The Von Helados' talisman seemed to ripple like it was underwater, and the glow faded to a dirty yellow luminescence before dying away completely. He stared at it for five minutes, just to make sure it wouldn't try anything else. Reassured, he pulled out his handkerchief and folded it four times before using it to insulate his hand. He grasped the beaded chain and picked it up, holding it out so the talisman hung at eye-level.
Ethan knew in that moment, he should have thrown out the talisman or tried to give it back to the Von Helados after his last progress report, when the last leads had all turned out to be useless. They had paid him for his time and provided no more clues or leads, and he had let them leave their working relationship open.
"What did you think you were doing?" he scolded himself as he flung the talisman back into the dirty, cracked mug in his drawer where he had kept it. "Protecting her by making sure they couldn't use it against her? They probably have a dozen of these. Two dozen. And just as many P.I.s investigating different states, probably." Ethan rubbed his face with his open hands and sank back down into his chair.
He didn't like the sweat filming his face, any more than he liked the suspicion that he had felt an echo of something that had happened in Neighborlee. Logic said that was impossible, a figment of his imagination. He was tired, maybe getting sick, having delusions.
So how come the longer he argued with himself, the more certain his gut became that he hadn't heard or seen the last of the Von Helados or Neighborlee, or Angela of Divine's Emporium?
Despite the chill down his spine and the throbbing in his temples, a smile curved one side of his mouth, in anticipation of seeing that golden hair and green-blue eyes and those raspberry-colored lips again. Maybe if he found a way to be helpful, he would finally find out if they tasted as sweet as the real thing.
* * * *
Maurice woke with a shiver, feeling discord in the magic that enveloped Divine's Emporium. Like everyone else, he was exhausted after clearing up the mess with Wolcott, and his brain felt fuzzy for a few seconds, even as the magic buzzed in his wings. Suddenly a sense of urgency ignited him into action. He took a running leap, slamming open the doors of the cupboard holding his "apartment" inside Angela's quarters, and fell halfway to the floor before he got his wings untangled and swooped upwards again. He felt the swirling of air that tingled of Angela's presence. The discord was woven through it. Even suspecting it was a waste of his time, Maurice flew into Angela's bedroom. Her bed was empty.
Half-closing his eyes, he followed the trail in the air, out of her apartment--and nearly ran into Angela's back as she shuffled down the hall toward a silvery glowing spot in the wall opposite the landing. Swallowing a yelp, Maurice flew around her. He wasn't surprised to see her eyes were closed, but the tears glistening on her cheeks and her mouth open in a silent wail took his breath away.
Now the glow was behind him, and it grew stronger. Maurice back-winged, keeping himself between Angela and the spot on the wall. He looked over his shoulder and his wings stilled for a moment when he saw the moonlight-silvered, moss-covered stone wall and the silver gate solidifying and emerging from the wallpaper. Streamers of moonlight reached out through the ornate curlicues of the gate.
Angela's arms lifted and her hands stretched to touch the light in response.
"Ain't no way," he muttered. "Don't go into the light, Angie-baby."
Maurice had no idea if it was an old wives' tale, warning not to wake a sleepwalker, but he wasn't going to take a chance on startling her. Especially not when Angela was interwoven with whatever discord had disturbed the sleeping house. It had to be done slowly, gently--no question that it had to be done.
First step was to get her away from the stairs and back her away from the light before those gates opened and she stepped into that mass of shadows and moonlight behind them.
"Okay, let's hope the butterfly effect is real," he muttered. He put his back to Angela and his wings into high gear. Sweat immediately popped out on his forehead as he concentrated on staying in place in mid-air, while generating a strong gust of air. He flapped until his back muscles started to ache, and then he took a chance and looked over his shoulder.
He let out a whoop of triumph. Angela had backed away a good five or six steps. The tears had dried and her mouth had cl
osed. As he watched, her hands dropped down to her sides again.
"Yes, yes, yes," he muttered, as the glow in the wallpaper faded away. Maurice moved closer to Angela and held onto the railing for a better anchor. He put his back to her and resumed flapping, pushing her away from the landing and toward the open door of her quarters.
The glow in the wallpaper faded, but he was disappointed--and a little frightened--to see that the gates and stone wall were still visible. They were part of the wallpaper now, as if they were a mural painted there. Somehow, he didn't think that was a good thing.
"Maurice?" Angela inhaled sharply. He turned to face her and gladly let his aching wings fold up against his back. "What--" She rubbed at her face and raked her fingers through her hair. "Did you see the gate and the moonlight?"
"It's okay. The gate didn't open. Go back to bed, Angie-baby. You're okay." He considered calling Holly and begging her to hurry over here and look after Angela. Maurice had never felt so furious about his shrunken state as he did at that moment. What Angela needed was for someone big and strong to scoop her up in his arms and hold her until the color came back to her face.
"No, I am not okay." She stumbled as she turned around and headed back to her quarters. She wrapped her arms around herself and glanced once over her shoulder before stepping through the door. "Would you call Asmondius? Ask him to come as soon as it's convenient for him?"
"You got it." Maurice snapped off a salute, and was relieved to get a flicker of a smile from her. He waited until she stepped into her kitchen and filled the teakettle with water, before he swooped down to the main room and slapped the Wishing Ball into life.
Maurice wasn't surprised when the Wishing Ball awakened immediately. After all this time, if it wasn't sentient in its own magic-soaked way, the big dark rainbow-swirled globe was close enough to awareness that it could think and understand in some elemental level. Or perhaps the disturbance in the magic woven through Divine's Emporium had awakened it so it didn't resist him. The call went through to Asmondius immediately, and he was grateful when the powerful Fae answered, instead of the answering mode responding to his call.
"I don't have any new news for you, lad," Asmondius said. "But there have been reports of disturbances in the energy levels of every dimension that has some connection to Divine's Emporium. What kind of trouble have you been facing out there?"
He grew stern and didn't ask a single question as Maurice related Ethan's visit, what Lanie had seen and sensed, and the reaction in the very soil and air of Neighborlee to the presence of Wolcott and the punishment leveled by the Hounds. He shook his head, his mouth pressed flat and stern, when Maurice told him about Angela sleepwalking, and the gate that had tried to manifest through the wall where no dimensional gate belonged.
"I'll be there immediately. I suggest you not leave Angela alone until she is completely recovered."
Maurice didn't even waste time with a salute. He leaped up into the air and pushed his aching wings for top speed. Angela was just finishing pouring the boiling water into her big ceramic teapot painted with dragons and unicorns--Maurice suddenly found those images disturbing--when he flew into her kitchen. Her color was practically normal and she had pulled out two teacups as well as the dollhouse-size tea set that Maurice used, and had set the table in the front room with cookies and tiny sugar-dusted cubes of Turkish delight and dark chocolate bark.
"He's on his--" Maurice flinched and looked over his shoulder when he felt the transportation globe opening up in the wall next to his cupboard. "Way," he finished.
Angela picked up a shawl and wrapped it around herself, over her nightgown. She settled down at the table as Asmondius stepped through the globe. She said nothing as the Fae man stopped halfway to the table, looked her over head to foot--three times--and held out both his hands. She immediately gave her hands into his grasp. Maurice hovered, despite the ache in his back, because he knew he wouldn't be able to hold still if he landed. Not while the two of them just looked at each other, perfectly still, not even blinking, and the air fairly crackled with silent communication.
"The time has come," Angela said, when Asmondius released her hand and sat down in front of the other full-size teacup. Both of them turned and looked somberly at Maurice.
"What? Time for what?" Maurice's voice cracked, and he wasn't ashamed of it.
"Surely it can't be that bad," Asmondius said. "Not to insult you, Maurice. You've come a long way. You're a proud example of how the Fae should have been for centuries in our interaction with the Human realms. But the exigency to bring it about..." He shook his head.
"Bring what about?" He barely restrained himself from shouting. Despite his size, Maurice knew he could shove both of them, and the table, against the far wall with the force of his bellow, if he wanted. Or needed.
"He doesn't know?"
"Why frighten him?" Angela said. She shook her head and held her hand out to Maurice when he opened his mouth again--this time to shout. "For several months now, Asmondius and I have considered it a distinct possibility to have you take my place if something should happen to me."
"Take your place? If something happened to you?" Maurice stomped across the table to stand in front of Angela's teacup and braced himself on the lip of it. "You're not sick or anything, are you? Asmondius--come on--me? Take care of Divine's?"
"Ah, now see, that's the best indication of your new maturity and wisdom, and the appropriateness of choosing you as the next guardian and liaison. Let us hope, however, that the need never arises." Asmondius tipped up the lid on the teapot and sniffed at the steam rising from it. "Almost done. No, lad, we don't want Angela to leave, not the least because the circumstances requiring her to step down as guardian of the shop and all the dimensional doorways it guards would be heartbreaking. I'm pleased that you do see it as taking care of the shop, rather than running it. A subtle difference, yet a vast one. All in perception."
"So the Council approves of it? Of me staying here and taking care of things?" He shook his head. "Come on, Angie-baby, it can't be that bad. All the stuff we've been going through. You're not--you're not sick or anything, are you? Because yeah, maybe you need a break, there's a lot of rotten stuff happening all of a sudden, but-- No, this place would shrivel up and die without you. And put me in charge of protecting it all?" He shuddered, trying to make a joke of it, but the fear and sickness coiling in his gut was too strong.
"I am under attack," Angela said quietly. "Not the shop, though it most certainly has been through the decades, the centuries... But this time I am the target, specifically.
"I thought for a while they were trying to attack the shop by destroying me, first, but... The sleepwalking tonight, the dreams I've been having..." She rubbed at her face and wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders.
"Asmondius, there's a new doorway in the wall of the landing on this floor. There shouldn't be one there. I didn't call it. I can't feel any life, any power on the other side of it, yet there is something that calls me in my dreams, pulls me inside. Maurice nearly tore his wings off tonight, keeping me from going through the gates."
"Excuse me." Asmondius got up and quietly hurried out of Angela's quarters.
Maurice wanted to go with him, to talk privately, to watch him study the doorway, but he wanted and needed to stay with Angela. Suddenly, she looked fragile. She looked mortal.
"Oh, Maurice, I do love you," Angela said, on a sigh that sounded like it tried to turn into laughter.
"Heh, don't tell Holly, okay? The chick is dangerous when she's jealous. You don't want to get a librarian riled at you." He settled down on the edge of Asmondius' saucer and crossed his arms on his knees. His attempt at a joke fell so flat he couldn't have tripped over it if he tried.
"I'm flattered that you're so worried about me, scared to have me leave, and yes, I'm proud that you're frightened of the responsibility. And it's rather funny that you haven't thought of the most important part of you becoming the guardian."
"Besides the entire town being in a whole heap of trouble with me protecting this place?"
"If you are assigned here, you and Holly will be able to be together."
He forgot to breathe for a few seconds. His face warmed, to the point that his ear points burned.
"I think it would be very wise to designate her co-guardian. All the time she spends here has given her a good exposure to magic. It wouldn't be hard for her to soak up enough magic living here with you, that she could conceivably have as long a life as you at full power."
"Oh, yeah, now make me really feel guilty. I'd rather give up all my magic altogether to be with Holly, than have anything happen to you, Angela."
"Let us hope it does not come to that." Asmondius came back into the room, picked up the teapot and poured for the three of them, the entire time his mouth pressed flat in serious thought.
"Well?" Angela said, when he had reached for the cream, turned it amber, and poured half the pitcher into his cup, which expanded to accommodate the liquid.
And still Asmondius stared down into the creamy golden depths without speaking.
"It's bad news, huh? Maybe Big Ugly is trying to sneak in through the back door?" Maurice offered. He scurried across the table with his cup and held it under the spout of the cream pitcher to catch a single drip that hung suspended there, growing larger by the second until it was ready to drop like a ripe peach.
"No, it is not the nightmare sleeping in the cellar of the town." Asmondius levitated five cubes of sugar into his cup and slowly stirred it around by swirling his finger in the air. "I am unsure exactly what waits in that garden beyond the gates, but it is not inimical to you, Angela."
"It called me and pulled me to it in my sleep." She picked her cup up to sip it plain. "I would not call that friendly. Nothing has caused me to move against my will, without my knowledge or even consciousness of it in...well, centuries."
Maurice swallowed hard, sensing Angela had been about to confess she could not remember any time that she hadn't been in control, when something or someone else had moved her like a doll or a piece on a chessboard.
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