by Ruth Vincent
High and clear above the crowd, Tiffany began to sing.
She didn’t have a trained, or particularly melodious, voice, but she sang from the heart, and I found myself tingling with goose bumps and wiping my eyes with my fists as I listened to her.
“Let it come,” she was singing, over and over again.
“Let it come,” the crowd echoed back their own chant.
I wasn’t sure who or what we were letting enter our midst, but I found myself singing too, along with the rest of them.
I couldn’t help but think, as I watched it all, that if you took away the drum, and the candles, the paper moon and the Ren fair wardrobes, it wasn’t all that different than the way I used to do magic when I was fairy: a quieting of the mind, a focusing of intent, the singing repetition of the spell that let the self dissolve and something new be created out of the emptiness. These humans might have blood in their veins and not Elixir, but otherwise, our practices weren’t that different. Maybe that was why their magic worked. And it had worked, hadn’t it? They’d manifested a fairy in their midst. Of course, he’d chosen to come too. But still, I couldn’t be dismissive anymore of the power these humans wielded. For better or worse, they were for real. And all of a sudden I realized why I’d always been so cynical about Eva’s group, because deep inside, I missed magic. I missed the ability to manifest things just with my intention, to feel the quickening in my soul. And groups like this, they were too close to that, too unbearably close. Except not, because to these nice people magic was just a metaphor. Until it wasn’t. Until something or someone showed up in their circle. Kore or Cory. Was the similarity in their names just a coincidence?
“Place your intention at the center of this circle,” Tiffany was saying. “We create it, and it creates us.”
“Let it come,” the group and I chanted.
Tiffany’s voice rang out through the crowd.
“Out of the darkness and void, it becomes.”
“Let it come,” we all chanted. My body began to rock and sway of its own accord as we moved rhythmically around in a circle. The drumbeat and Tiffany’s voice had a hypnotic effect. But what moved me most was these people’s sincerity. They really were open to whatever showed up.
“We dissolve into the empty space, where the manifestation has begun.”
“Let it come,” the people sang.
“Let us be still and welcome it inside ourselves.”
The drumming stopped, and we all stood still and silent. I could almost hear the intentions of the strangers whose hands I held as everyone’s awareness rested at the center of the circle. I swore I could feel something manifest.
But when I opened my eyes, the center of our circle was empty, apart from Tiffany, and the three drummers, their heads bowed reverently over their tabors.
“He didn’t come,” I heard a girl next to me whisper, the disappointment clearly written on her face.
“He who visited us before has chosen not to visit us tonight,” Tiffany said.
But she did not seem disappointed.
“It was not meant to be,” she said to the crowd. “But the power of our presence is never wasted. We created something good tonight, even if it’s something we cannot see.”
I found myself nodding. We had created something. I’d come in here so tense and scared and stressed over everything going on lately, and now I felt calm, peaceful, heartened, rejuvenated. I understood why Eva came here.
Tiffany led us in the same grounding exercise to close as she had at the opening. We held hands, gave a shout of gratitude to the powers of the unseen and then it was over.
Everyone went back to milling around and chatting, though when I looked into these strangers’ faces, I could see that they were refreshed, heartened.
I found Tiffany, her eyes bright, cheeks flushed.
“That was you,” I said, “under the mask, as Hades?”
Tiffany smiled at me, neither confirming nor denying.
“What did you mean by what you said?”
“I don’t remember anything I say when I’m in the trance. People sometimes tell me afterwards they found what I said helpful. I hope so. I have no control over it. It speaks through me. I just try not to get in the way.”
“So you have no memory of telling me that Cory is someone I’ve already met, that I have to go home to find him?”
Tiffany shook her head, and I could tell by one look in her very-normal-now eyes that she wasn’t lying. “I don’t. But if that’s what it told you . . .”
“. . . I should listen?” I finished for her.
The crowd of people were beginning to disperse, slowly heading for the exits. Several stopped to say thank you to Tiffany and hug her goodbye. At last she turned back to me. “I know some people are probably disappointed that Cory didn’t show in the circle tonight. But I think it was for the best.”
I nodded. “I guess it makes sense. I mean, you said, ‘We welcome all beings with good intent who wish to visit us.’ Sounds like Cory didn’t have good intent.”
Tiffany’s face grew pale. She seemed struck by my words.
“You know, I never thought about it,” she said slowly. “When I did the ritual months ago where he first appeared, I said, ‘We welcome the deities within our midst.’ I never specified good. I should have been more specific.”
“Always be specific, particularly with fairies,” I said as I hugged her goodbye.
Chapter 6
After we said goodbye to Tiffany and the rest of the group and exited into the dark, quiet street, I reached for my phone, which I’d had turned off during the ritual. I noticed there was a text from Obadiah:
There was a little emergency at the club. Not to worry, Reuben and I are handling it. But I’ll probably have to stay here tonight. Don’t wait up for me. I love you. XO.
Whenever Obadiah said, “Don’t worry,” it made me very worried.
“What’s going on?” Eva asked me.
“Obadiah,” I said. “Something’s wrong. I know he was having some issues with some of his customers,” I said, stopping myself a split second before I said “werewolves.” “Do you mind? I want to give him a call before we get on the train.”
I stood under the haloed circle of a streetlight and called him. The phone rang and rang and went to voicemail. I sent him a text as well, and waited. No answer. At last I tried the club’s landline.
Reuben answered. He sounded harried.
“Oh hi, Mab.” His normally slow Southern drawl was sped up with nervous energy. “No time to talk, things are a little crazy round here tonight. Obadiah told me in case you called to say he’s sorry he can’t come to the phone. Dealing with a situation. But he also told me to tell you not to worry. Everything’s fine.”
“Everything is obviously not fine. Will you tell me what’s going on?”
There was a silence on the other end of the phone.
“Let me get Obadiah; let him talk to you.”
I waited.
I could hear a lot of background noise on the line. It was a cacophony in there, and it wasn’t music. There were loud crashes, bangs and a screaming, howling sort of sound that made me shiver. What was going on?
“Oh hi, Mab, love, did you get my text?” It was Obadiah’s voice on the line. “Sorry I can’t come over tonight.”
“Will you tell me what’s going on? The more you tell me not to worry, the more I’m going to worry.”
There was silence on the line, and then at last Obadiah spoke.
“It’s the werewolves. One of them is . . . it’s a long story. But we’ve got it under control.”
I heard a large crash and a shrieking yelp, and then Obadiah cursed.
“It doesn’t sound very under control,” I said.
Obadiah sighed. “It will be.”
“Will you let me come over? Maybe I can help?”
“No!” he almost shouted. “No, there’s no need for that. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“I’
m coming over,” I said with finality.
“Mab,” he protested, but I cut him off.
“I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”
“Mab.”
“I love you.” I made kissy noises into the phone.
“Love you too, but, Mab . . .”
“See you soon, babe.” I hung up.
I turned to Eva. “Something’s up. I need to go over there.”
She nodded, understanding.
We walked down into the subway together. I hugged Eva goodbye at our stop and then continued on to Obadiah’s.
When I walked up to his whitewashed brick building, I could hear the shouting from outside.
There was a handwritten sign in the window apologizing for being closed for the evening; it was, after all, Saturday night. The sign said there had been an “emergency leak.” That sounded like a lie. The only thing that appeared to be leaking from the very walls of the old building was uncontained werewolf fury.
I paused nervously at the door. Obadiah had told me not to come. Was it safe inside? I was on friendly terms with Obadiah’s werewolf bouncer, Reuben, and on a smile and wave basis with most of his Wolfmen customers by now, but that didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous. Then again, I looked up at the moon, shining over the rooftops of Brooklyn: it wasn’t full. Wasn’t anywhere close, just a crescent sliver. I’d be fine.
I dug the key Obadiah had given me out of my purse, and unlocked the door. It was one thing when he’d given me a key to his apartment, but when he gave me a key to the club, that was when I knew things were serious.
As I opened the door, five of the biggest, most hulking, yellow-toothed, scary-looking Wolfmen I’d ever seen in my life turned to glare at me. More Wolfmen moved in from along the walls.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” one of them snarled. “Well, if it isn’t the daughter of the Queen Bitch herself?”
“Um . . . hi,” I said.
“How dare you speak to my girlfriend like that.” Obadiah strode out of the back room and through the crowd. The werewolf who spoke was almost twice his size, yet he slunk back at the look of fury on Obadiah’s face. I’d never seen Obadiah that angry before. It was a terrifying and almost majestic sight as he drew himself up to his full height, his dark eyes blazing fire.
“Mab,” he cried as our eyes met, “you shouldn’t have come. Please, go home. I’ll take care of these . . .” He grumbled something low and insulting about his Wolfmen clientele.
“Will you please just tell me what’s going on?” I said. All the werewolves were still staring at me. It was making me more and more uncomfortable. Maybe I really should leave? If all of them decided to rush me right now, Obadiah couldn’t fight them all off. I caught Reuben’s eye in the corner, looking sympathetic and helpless. The three of us would be completely outnumbered.
“What’s going on,” the big Wolfman said, “is the fucking Fairy Queen has royally screwed us.”
“I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” I said as all the pairs of angry yellow eyes glared at me. “But I’m on your side, okay? The Queen screws everyone; that’s what she does. Whatever this is, I can tell you, I’ve got nothing to do with it. So will you please tell me what’s . . .”
We were interrupted by a loud crash and a high-pitched yelp, like a hurt dog. I realized the sound was coming from upstairs, where Obadiah kept a secret store of magical goods to sell to his supernatural clientele. What was going on in there?
Obadiah rubbed his brow. “Reuben, can you go in there and check on him? Make sure he’s not hurting himself. And please, try not to let him destroy the entire shop, will you?”
“Right, boss.” Reuben trotted away towards the hidden door behind Obadiah’s bar.
“What’s happening in there? What do you mean he’s destroying your shop?”
Obadiah sighed in exasperation. “One of the Wolfmen, his name is Blake, who belongs to these gentlemen’s pack,” said Obadiah, “was not able to change back into human form after the last full moon.”
“Oh my god,” I said as the reality of what he was saying hit me. “You mean he’s still in . . . ?”
“Yes,” said Obadiah.
“And he’s in your back room right now?”
“Yes.”
“But you’ve got so many glass vials in there.”
“Yes.” Obadiah sighed. “And witches’ crystal balls, and Sanguinari crystal blood flutes, and some priceless Elvish manuscripts, which he’s probably urinating on at this very moment. I really can’t think about it right now.”
We heard another howl from the storeroom, and then the cajoling sound of Reuben’s voice, followed by a crash. Clearly his efforts weren’t working.
“You’re sure Reuben’s safe up there?” I said.
Obadiah nodded. “He’s got body armor on. And he knows how to handle a Were. He’ll be okay.” Obadiah pressed his lips into a thin, hard line. “There’s no other option. I can’t have Blake running around here loose on the dance floor. He could hurt someone before we can figure out how to get him to change back.”
“But he’s going to destroy your store.” I shot dagger looks at the hulking Wolfmen, furious at how they were abusing Obadiah’s hospitality.
“The werewolves insisted on bringing Blake here so I could see him like this, see how bad it is,” Obadiah said to me. “They want me to fix this. As if I could.” He shook his head. “I guess that’s what I get for using Elixir to fix everyone’s problems for so many years. Everyone comes to me whenever they’re in a bind.”
One of the werewolves interrupted us. It was the same one who’d spoken before—clearly he was the Alpha here. He sauntered over from where he’d been leaning up against Obadiah’s marble-topped bar.
“Blake isn’t the first of our kind who has had a problem lately,” the Alpha said abruptly. “For months, several of our members have been having the opposite problem—they were unable to change. And it comes down to Elixir.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. Honestly, I didn’t know much about werewolf culture. The fairies and the Wolfmen had very little do with each other, each of them sadly looking down on the other’s kind.
“We do the ritual of the change in the Vale,” he explained. “We drink from the Elixir streams. That’s what makes us change forms. Did you know that?”
I shook my head.
“We drink from the streams to activate the change, and then when the night is done, we drink from the streams again in order to change back,” the Alpha said. “Only lately, it hasn’t been working.”
“Because the Elixir streams are diluted,” one of the Wolfmen cried out from the back of the room. “It’s like drinking fucking tap water.”
“Calm down, Jed,” snarled the Alpha, but he nodded in agreement to what the pissed-off Were had said. “That does about sum it up, though. Something has changed about the streams of late. We’d heard there was a drought that was affecting the fairies, but we’d paid it no mind. It hadn’t affected us. But now it does. Some of the older Wolfmen weren’t able to change at the moonrise ritual. I guess there wasn’t enough Elixir for them. And then Blake. He’s a young pup; I guess he needs more Elixir to change back than those of us who are more experienced. So he didn’t.”
“And it’s all because of the fucking Fairy Queen,” yelled a young Wolfman.
The Alpha put up his hand for silence again, and begrudgingly, the one who had spoken out of turn was quiet. But I could feel all of the werewolves glaring at me.
Was this what my mother had been talking about on the knife, was this what she meant by “it’s getting worse”? Could it be that there wasn’t just a drought of Elixir anymore, but that what Elixir there was wasn’t as strong as it used to be? That wouldn’t just affect the Wolfmen; that would affect all of us. But the fact was, I knew less about what was going on than my mother did. Who was I to play diplomat here?
“I’m sorry to hear you’ve been having this problem,” I said to them. “That sounds
awful. But if you don’t mind me asking, why do you think my mother is behind it? She’s been dealing with the ill effects of the Elixir drought herself. I know for a fact that she’s making it better, even if I don’t approve of her methods.” I scowled, and Obadiah squeezed my hand. “It’s the Vale itself that’s failing. It isn’t any one individual’s fault. It affects all of us.”
But the Alpha shook his head. “I know the Queen is concerned with the drought too—that’s just it. I get it; everybody cares about their own pack, and everyone else’s pack can go fuck off. That’s how the world works—human world or the Vale, it don’t matter. But that’s why I’ve begun to suspect, and my Wolfmen agree with me”—there were enthusiastic nods from the crowd—“the Queen is stealing our Elixir. She doesn’t care about us. She cares about the fairies.”
“But where’s the proof?” I asked.
“The proof is our pup Blake is in full Were form tearin’ up Obadiah’s store at this very moment. Somebody’s been stealing our Elixir and my bet’s on the Queen.”
I was silent. It was tough to argue with him about it because he very well could be right.
“The Queen is violating our treaty,” he continued. “We had a treaty that said that the fairies would never use the Elixir streams in our territory. They’ve got Elixir in their veins; all we’ve got are the Elixir streams that run through the heart of the Central Forest. The last Fairy Queen signed a treaty with us that said the fairies would always leave our streams alone. If this Queen violated our treaty, we view that as a declaration of war.”
“Now hold on,” Obadiah and I said together, but our voices were lost over the bellicose roar that had erupted from the crowd. My stomach tightened. These furious Wolfmen wanted a war, and a war breaking out between the Fey and the Wolfmen was the last thing the Vale needed. We were just barely surviving in peacetime, as our world mysteriously deteriorated. I wasn’t sure the Vale could even handle the stress of such a conflict. This was bad. Very, very bad. I cast a panicked look at Obadiah.
