“Yes,” I said, interrupting him. “You’re very specific when you pass through the field. It’s very definite about who and what it lets through.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re certain of this?”
“Oh, yeah, definitely,” I responded, sitting on the ledge of the pond again. Mike was fidgeting behind us, unsure of what to do. That reminded me he was there and reminded me that Shrank wasn’t. I’d left him back at the hotel.
My brothers now had a way into my realm, but that still left others outside of it, like Mike and Ian. It was our salvation yesterday. Admittedly, I was in control of that shift and it would have been very messy for everybody if I hadn’t bled off the inertial differences, but it still saved our lives. Mike and Ian couldn’t say my Name, neither could they say Gilán with enough voices to pierce the field around it. They would need a key.
Keys, plural, I thought, standing and facing the pool of glowing diamonds. Each diamond in the pile sang with Gilán’s power and Name with a different voice. Each was separately identifiable, no two alike, just as snowflakes. I reached down into the pile and pulled a small handful out. I washed most of the smaller ones back into the pool, then dropped all but the smallest into a drawstring bag that was suddenly in my hand.
“Shall we have breakfast?” I asked, shifting the three of us back over. I wondered idly where I’d left my half-eaten scone, but the smell of bacon and eggs quickly over-rode that concern. “Shrank, where are you?”
“Here, Lord,” Shrank called, shooting out of Kieran’s bedroom near the ceiling and flying lazily toward us. The pixie looked downright perky this morning. “I do apologize for not greeting you all this morning, but I slept most deeply last night.”
“He was up with the sun, Shrank,” Peter mumbled over a muffin, pointing at me.
“The sun has just risen,” Shrank said, pointing vaguely to the east.
“Not in Gilán,” Ethan said, piling a plate with scrambled eggs.
Shrank shot through the air to me, stopping two feet out directly in front, head high. “You named your realm? Congratulations, Lord Daybreak!”
“Thank you, Shrank, but it named itself,” I said.
“Same thing,” Shrank said, cheerfully. “The Fae must be ecstatic. They did not expect this until much closer to the Great Claiming.”
“Just remember that’s been moved. I need you to pass word on that today,” I reminded him. “Here, can you take this?” I held the diamond chip out on the tip of my finger to him. He changed his flight so that he approached me straight on, horizontally to the chip, and took it off my finger in one hand. It looked much larger in his tiny hands.
“A diamond, Lord?” he asked. “It is imbued with your power, it seems, though very faintly. It wanes with distance.”
Concentrating on the tiny sliver that Shrank held, I stamped, for lack of a better word, Shrank’s essence onto one of the diamond’s many facets. Looking at it now, I was pretty sure it would be exactly what I needed.
“Okay, Shrank, I think that’ll work as a key,” I said. “While you’re holding the diamond, think about a place on Gilán you might want to be right now, that you might want to go. When you’ve got the picture in your mind, say the name of my realm to the gem. Doesn’t have to be aloud.”
He was gone in a second. And back the next, grinning. “Yes, Lord Daybreak, this pierces the veil well.”
“And you can halt those transfers as well?” Kieran asked as he fixed his own breakfast, watching Shrank and me carefully.
“Yep, even better than that, I can tie an individual diamond key to a specific person, maybe even a place, so somebody can’t steal somebody else’s keys,” I said, starting on my own plate now.
“The ‘place’ is likely to be more important than you realize,” Peter said finishing his muffin and moving to eggs and sausage. “A good deal of the difficulty in portal magic is realizing the endpoint into real space across a non-space environment. I’d bet dollars to donuts the only places that Shrank could go by himself are the last two he’d been at.”
I looked to see the pixie nodding in agreement. “Okay. That’s not quite as effective as I thought it would be.”
“No, don’t knock it, Seth,” Kieran said. “It’s still a very good safety net and if you can lock a place into a gem that would be even better. Besides, exactly how many places do any of us really need to go in the world?”
Peter’s cell phone shrieked from the other room with one of the annoyingly sweet stock chimes manufacturers thought of as obsequious. Seconds later the house phone started bleeping in a similar chime, also announcing an incoming call.
“We have some eager beavers this morning,” Peter remarked, glancing at the clock as he rose to get his phone.
“Good morning, Ian,” Mike said answering the phone extension nearest him. Ethan snorted back a laugh through a biscuit next to Mike’s chair. The digital clock next to him read seven fifty-nine. “Did you enjoy your night with Marty?”
Ethan moved closer to us to give Mike some privacy when Peter came back, cell phone in hand talking to his father. They were setting up a timetable already.
“We’ll be there in a few minutes, Yonnie. Don’t worry. Just be close to the door. We have to leave very soon,” Mike said before hanging up. He started shoveling his food in.
“Six o’clock for dinner sounds great, Dad,” Peter said. “You want to eat in Huntsville or New York? We have to come back tonight anyway. We’re interviewing for assistants, hopefully hiring someone if they’re worth their salt.”
“Hmm, odd phrase,” muttered Ethan.
“Not really,” Mike answered. “Salt was once used as a currency, highly valued as a spice and hard to get.”
I was surprised I didn’t know that. “You’re kidding. The oceans are full of it.”
“Not the same kind of salt, Seth,” Mike said, shaking his head ruefully.
“Oh, yeah, I knew that. I get your point,” I said, properly chastised for that simple miscalculation. But it did cement in my mind the idea that even though these bright blue diamonds were abundant to me, they would likely be considered very rare here. A pleasing thought since I considered them precious regardless.
“Shrank, are you ready to go?” I asked putting my plate on the coffee table and standing, stretching.
“At your discretion, Lord,” Shrank squealed, flying loops around each of us eagerly.
“Back in a few, guys,” I said, then shifted Mike and Shrank with me to the doorway to the Castle Cahill. “Okay, Shrank, I’ll work on marking some places in the diamonds so you can move back and forth where you need to more easily. Anything else you think you need?”
“No, Lord Daybreak, I can think of nothing now,” he piped happily. “I will spread word of the change in times.”
“While you’re doing that, see if there are any smiths among them,” I said, the thought just occurring to me. “I might need to set some of these into jewelry.”
“Certainly, Lord Daybreak,” Shrank squealed. “It would be an unusual talent for brownies, but perhaps one of the sprite clans or among the changed. Gilán is frightfully interesting that way.” He shot off through the grass without another word amid a puff of golden dust. Mike moved up beside me, watching the little Fae fly off.
“He’s awfully cheerful, even for a pixie,” he muttered as we walked to the door.
I grinned at him, throwing my arm over his shoulders. “Not everybody can be a sullen Brit, y’know,” I said, laughing, then I shoved him through the door. I got through in time to see Ian landing on Mike’s shoulders, then both of them crumpling to the floor in a heap. John stood in the doorway amused, watching the minor pandemonium occur.
“Hi, John,” I said, waving to him. “Somebody ate his oats this morning.”
“Get off me, y’little badger!” Mike cried, laughing. “I hav’ta work in these,” he whined as he stood, brushing the newly pressed wrinkles out.
“Well, ya’ shoudn’ta lied to
me, then,” Ian said, falling backward onto the bed, his face a righteous mask of gleeful torture. I think their relationship had taken a turn recently. Looking at their auras, it appeared to be a good thing.
“How did I lie?” Mike said, gawking at Ian in shock.
“You said nothing would happen last night. You both did, so you both lied!” He huffed at us and glared, leaning up on his elbows to get a good angle.
“What happened last night?” I asked Mike.
“I’m afraid Mr. Bishop recounted the events of last night’s dinner party to the Cahills at breakfast this morning,” John said, smiling. “He can be a rather boisterous storyteller.”
“It was a rather boisterous story, truth,” Mike said, going to the bed to sit beside Ian. “The boys were being a mite touchy last night. It was a lot like Thursday night, just a lot of flash surrounding a lot of boring.”
“No, Michael, he’s right,” I said and started a slow walk forward. “I mean, you are, too. It was a lot of boring, but he did miss things just because he wasn’t there. But.” I stopped in front of Ian, meeting his glare with another. I was certain mine would win. “We can’t predict everything that’s going to happen, but until we have more certain ways of guaranteeing your safety, especially when you’re with us, that comes first. Now, we’re going to make mistakes, Ian, but I’m not going to second-guess these decisions. I have to believe that I am making the best decision about every situation I’m in. There is too much riding on each and every one of them. It’s not just me anymore. I’m not trying to deprive you of anything, Ian.” I had both the Ferrin brothers enraptured for a moment. It wasn’t from magic, though, curiously.
“I’m sorry, Seth,” Ian said, his voice cracking a little at the end. “I was just frustrated, is all.”
“Okay, Ian, as long as you know I’m trying,” I said. “And Mike’s right, we were a bit touchy early on last night.”
“A bit? He ‘bout took Phillips’ head off,” Mike whispered to Ian, knowing I’d hear, his accent thick and heavy. “Then he nearly blinded everybody.”
“How did he do that?” Ian asked Mike as they got off the bed.
“Don’t know,” Mike said. “But I suspect he showed his aura.”
“No,” I responded shaking my head. “You know how I can send people places? Well, it works just as well with light as with people. It was just a trick.”
“Now let’s go show you how truly boring last night was,” Mike said moving Ian toward the door.
I turned to John, smiling. “Thank you for coming to see Ian off, John. Is there anything I can do for you today?”
“No, Seth, I’m sure you’re busy enough right now,” John said. “Safe journeys.”
“Thank you, John.” Then I jumped us back to New York.
Chapter 8
“Will you drive?” I asked Peter, holding out the keys as I raised the garage door.
“You want me to drive your baby?” he asked, taking the keys, cutting his eyes at me. “Ian must have really gotten to you.”
“Yeah,” I admitted, moving to the far side of the car. “More than he knows, anyway. It’s not that what I told him was wrong, but I sat on the sidelines for seventeen years and didn’t even know there was a game going on. I completely understand what he’s complaining about.” I shoved my phone in the charger out of habit once I’d buckled in, jiggling the pouch of diamonds nervously in the other hand.
“And what do you expect to do with those?” Peter asked as he backed the car slowly out of the garage.
“Well,” I started, slipping a few of the diamonds out of the bag into my hand. “With the sliver I gave Shrank, I imprinted an image of his aura or essence, I guess, onto it. He’s able to shift himself between the last two places that he was, here and on Gilán. So what I’m thinking is that I can do the same and imprint some sites into it as well. That way, the keyholders can pick where they want to go, providing it’s in the key.”
“And you can still block the passage of keyholders, right?” he asked, backing out into the road.
“Yeah, it looks that way,” I said.
Something didn’t feel right as we pulled past the ward at the end of the driveway. Something didn’t belong there.
“Wait, Peter,” I said quietly, looking out through the tinted windows. “Pull back in.” As we crossed back over the drive, that feeling fell away. He stopped the car and cut the engine. We hopped out.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, watching me and sending his own questing magic out around the area, mostly outside the wards. The Stone wasn’t protesting and neither was the Night, so this wasn’t malignant magic.
“I’m not sure,” I said, nearly whispering, standing at the very edge of the ward’s protection. It was just a slight tickle on my senses and the ward was blocking it easily. Just to be certain I wasn’t being paranoid, I took one purposeful step outside the ward and pushed my senses outward.
“There’s someone watching my house,” I said loudly and started out through the woods. Peter was quick to follow, but I was obviously not paying attention to where and how I was going. I outpaced him quickly and was far more quiet, as in totally silent, moving through the underbrush of the woods. I stopped about fifty feet away from the tree my target slept in, and waited for Peter to catch up, using the short time to reconnoiter the setup.
It was an amateurish blind, effective but only because of the distance from the house. My peeper was more of a hunter of animals than people, sleeping in a tree stand found in any discount or sporting goods store, and tied in with bungy cords. He looked familiar but I couldn’t quite place him, bundled in camo gear and twisted into a ball. High-powered binoculars were fixed to another tree limb, pointing at my house.
Once Peter caught up, I lifted us up with the Stone. He grabbed onto to me with both hands to steady himself. I turned, grinning, and whispered, “Sorry,” and asked the Stone to make the platform visible. It chose a four-foot square stonework pattern. As we got closer to the tree, the smell of urine and the sight of litter on the ground were evident. My peeper liked his junk food and didn’t clean up well afterwards. At least he took other matters elsewhere. When we rose high enough, Peter leaned out, catching one of the tree limbs, and looked through the binoculars. He looked at me, angry, and nodded. I moved the platform over a little, leaned, and looked, too.
The binoculars had a perfect view of my bedroom window. An occasional breeze obstructed the line of sight easily by moving branches and leaves around and no other part of the house was visible. Six inches in any direction would break that line. It had probably taken days to find this spot. This was definitely intended to spy on me.
Turning my attention back to the sleeping man, he was a normal human male, about my age, and he snored. The only weapons on him were a pocketknife and a four-inch hunting knife, sheathed on his left side. This was the only appreciable metal on him. His gear was stowed in a duffel bag at the base of the tree, mostly dirty clothes, clean socks, and junk food. This didn’t appear to be a dangerous person, exactly. I looked at Peter just as he turned back from staring over the edge of the platform, examining the duffel bag, I suspect.
“Wake him up. This is just weird,” Peter said, holding onto the tree casually. It struck me as funny that he could do that, make standing in the middle of a tree look casual. So I was laughing a bit when I pulled the Day—scabbard included, I didn’t want to kill the guy, yet—and whacked him once with it.
“Yo, wake up!” I yelled, then dropped the Day, point down, holding the hilt loosely and watching the spastic throes of my peeping tom. The golden glow from the Sword gave the event excellent lighting. A familiar face finally popped out of the lightweight jacket, dazed blue eyes, unshaven, unwashed, and unmistakable.
“Jimmy Morgan, why are you spying on me?” I ask, loudly and forcefully. And more than a little angrily.
“Seth, what the f—” Jimmy stuttered and stopped moving, staring at me in shock. “Seth. You’re back.”
He looked down at the Sword then. His mistake, seeing both by the glowing golden scabbard and a floating platform of stone, he jerked on the stand, startled, and popped a few of his bungy cords loose. Jimmy lost his balance, falling off the stand. He caught a limb nearby and kicked out for the platform, stopping his fall.
“What the fuck are you standing on?” he cried hysterically.
“You get distracted easily, Jimmy,” I said, reaching over and grabbing the back of his jacket. Hauling on him hard and, popping the rest of the bungy cords loose, I pulled him over completely to the Stone platform and started sinking to the ground slowly. Peter moved through the change smoothly, which helped me at least stay out of a murderous rage and stop in the “beat to a pulp” range instead. I tossed him on his back a few feet from the ground and let him flail a minute to get his composure. “Why are you watching my house, Jimmy Morgan? Wasn’t leaving me in a forest in the middle of the night enough for you?”
“’Cuz I need your help, Seth,” Jimmy said, scurrying backward a few steps, then sitting up in the underbrush. He’d gone through a lot in the last two and a half months. His aura showed the emotional scars and his body wasn’t too far behind it. The boy wasn’t too far from malnutrition. Still, he left me in a forest in the middle of the night. I’m having a really hard time letting go of that.
“And? Talk fast. I have work to do and people are waiting for me,” I snapped. Being Daybreak does have advantages. I had his full attention.
“You’re the last hope I have of finding my father,” Jimmy said, his deep blue eyes welling in tears.
“Why should I care about you and your father? You left me in a forest in the middle of the night. Did you forget that?” I ask the questions thumping the Sword on the ground for emphasis with each sentence.
Sons (Book 2) Page 12
