Caledonia

by Amy Hoff

  Magnus held Sebastian's gaze with a lifeless expression. This time, Leah pushed Magnus hard, away from the cell. Sebastian scrabbled against the glass, as if he might rend it with his fingernails.

  “Did you?!” he screamed after them in anguish.

  His voice caught in his throat, and this feared criminal, consumed by grief and hate, broke down into dirty, retching sobs that echoed throughout the lonely block of cells.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The sun was bright on Glasgow Green, and Aonghas stood with Dylan in the midst of a manicured lawn. Morning mist covered the ground, dissipating in the warmth of daylight.

  “Well,” said Aonghas, “this is where you are stationed. You won’t feel cold, or heat, or age. You might get bored, though. And Dylan…”

  “Aye?” he said.

  “I’m going to have to train you.”

  Dylan laughed.

  “Wit? You train me?” he said, “You couldnae magic yir way out o’ a paper bag.”

  Aonghas crossed his arms.

  “I know you don’t like me very much,” he said, “but there’s a lot I can teach you. Anyway, I’m the only Guardian who’s willing.”

  “Aye…wull,” said Dylan. “You canna be all tha’ bad if you helped Tearlach.”

  He noticed that Aonghas was holding a strange triangular wooden box.

  “Wit’s tha’?” he asked.

  “A box,” said Aonghas. “Dorian said that the police station has had it for centuries, and he knows the reason now.”

  Dylan saw the insignia on the side. He looked up at Aonghas.

  “It's from Tearlach,” Aonghas said.

  Taking it, Dylan sat down on the ground immediately and prised the box open.

  The box was full of folded paper, brown with age. He realised they were letters. Stunned, he lifted the first, and unfolded it.

  My dearest Dylan. I’ve met a young lady, I think you would like her. Beautiful long hair and she knows how to fight, which is a blessing in my time….

  and the next -

  Dear Dylan, my son has turned one this year. I named him after you, of course.

  My dear friend, today I met Bonnie Prince Charlie. He is not as bonnie as his reputation says, and has no head for drink…

  Dear Dylan, I am turning sixty-five. It seems that in all my long life I shall never age to a time when we will meet again. I look forward to your visit, should you make one.

  Dylan, old friend and companion, I have written you for many years, as promised. I only hope that you’ll receive my letters. They say that I have a condition, and will be gone within a year…

  Dylan. They say it will be soon. I tell them I know that we will meet again, and they think me mad. I’ll never forget your friendship and your strange ways, your interesting food and how you watched over me. Mourn me not, friend and brother. Know that I have loved you, and keep well. My thoughts and prayers are with you, always. – Tearlach.

  Dylan dug through the box, but there were no more letters. He could barely breathe.

  “I hafta go t’him!” he cried in anguish.

  Aonghas reached over and pulled him into a hug. This time, Dylan did not push him away.

  “He’s had a good life, Dylan,” Aonghas said gently. “You were a wonderful story and an inspiration to him. A comfort in his last hours. Let it be.”

  Dylan let out a breath. He nodded, and smiled. He lifted every letter in the box, and held them to his chest as if he could embrace his friend through all that distance.

  ***

  Dorian and Leah met Milo in the lab, where he was testing the necklace and its contents.

  Leah examined the pendant. It was made of blown glass in a teardrop design. A tiny amount of water was sealed inside, with an ornate pewter decorative seal and a loop for the string.

  A symbol of love, twisted into one of loss and revenge.

  “So this was how Sebastian killed the Fae?” she asked.

  Milo nodded.

  “Yes,” he said. “When they touched it, they were drowned in their memories, overwhelmed. Every one of these creatures had loved someone or something so deeply that they simply gave up hope. They chose to end rather than suffer. You are strong, Leah Bishop. You have survived Sebastian's magic twice now.”

  Dorian looked out the window, across the city of Glasgow. He laid a hand on the glass, feeling the chill of it against his skin. He hadn't spoken much since Magnus had been transferred.

  “Then they committed suicide,” Dorian mused. “They weren't killed.”

  Milo splashed some water onto the floor with his tail as he adjusted his position in the bath.

  “A technicality,” he said. “They chose to die, yes. But without Sebastian's power, his intervention, they would still be alive. What do you want to do about this?”

  “It's Sebastian,” said Dorian. “I think the Fae Court would like to put him on the stand and give him a fair trial, if not for the murders, then for his other crimes against the supernaturals. He has worked with criminals, both supernatural and human, over the years – smuggling, corporate crime, anything to climb to the top of the criminal element of the city. Murder had never been a part of his repertoire in the past, and it seems as if it will not occur again. However, this is not his first offence, and it won't be his last. He may not have killed these Fae with his own two hands, but he certainly meant for them to die. And for what? To prove a point? To reveal who Magnus truly was? Why didn't he just come out and tell us? Or why didn't he kill Magnus, come to that?”

  “He was afraid, Dorian,” said Milo, “and remember? He hates us. He doesn't think we deserve to live, and he fears us too. He wanted revenge, and Magnus couldn't suffer if he wasn't living.”

  “There was no reason for him to do this,” said Dorian, gesturing toward the freezers that held the bodies of the Fae.

  “Since when is murder reasonable?” asked Leah. “Are we going to be able to prosecute, Milo? Do we have the necessary evidence to use against Sebastian?”

  The merman shrugged.

  “It's difficult to say,” he said. “Magnus will certainly be prosecuted.”

  “Sebastian should also answer for his other crimes,” said Dorian.

  “I fear that is not going to happen,” said Milo, “at least not this time. There's nothing solid we can really hold him on. This is what you might call the perfect murder. You might have something of a case, but it would be very hard to argue – despite Sebastian's fame in the faerie world.”

  “More solid than killing faeries?” demanded Dorian. “This is absolute madness, Milo, and you know it.”

  “Of course it is,” Milo replied. “That is probably why he chose this method. He waited a very long time, Dorian, and he is extremely clever. I'm surprised he allowed himself to get caught.”

  “Didn't Magnus ever see Geoffrey?” asked Leah. “You'd think they'd have recognised each other.”

  “No,” said Dorian. “Magnus developed a particular revulsion for death...only recently, of course. Now I know why. So he never came down to the morgue. He knew, I think, when he passed Geoffrey when leaving the flat – that was the first time they had ever seen each other. It also explains why the selkie cantrip happened that day. Magnus called the selk.”

  Dorian sighed, and sat down in a chair beside Milo. He put his head in his hands, pulling on his black hair with his white fingertips. Leah leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms.

  “I am reclaiming this,” Dorian said, reaching for the pendant, “as the personal effects of Magnus Grey. There's nothing more we can do, and I would be glad to know it was somewhere no one else could ever use it.”

  Milo sighed deeply.

  “Very well,” he said, “but you'll have to answer to Chief Ben for it. That pendant is evidence against Sebastian's crimes.”

  “I will take good care of it,” Dorian promised, and pocketed the necklace.

  Leah looked at him curiously.

  “Well,” said Dorian, “sha
ll we? It's been a long night for all of us, and I think we all need some sleep.”

  “After you,” said Leah, and they left Milo alone in the morgue.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The following morning dawned bright and clear, and Leah's usual meandering path to the station took a bit longer than necessary. She had a great deal on her mind. She walked down the darkened stairs into the faerie light, now so familiar to her, waited as the world twisted, and then walked out of the cupboard into the kitchen. She yawned, rubbing her eyes, and set the kettle to boiling. She leafed through the Metro as the kettle roared to life behind her. Chief Ben walked in, looking haggard as usual, his black leather coat creaking as he folded his arms.

  “I don't know how to tell you this,” he said.

  Without looking up from the paper, Leah nodded.

  “Sebastian's escaped,” she said.

  “How did you know?” he asked.

  “Lucky guess. He strikes me as the type who’d have an escape plan, if he allowed himself to get caught. He infiltrated Caledonia well enough that he was able to leave a note on your desk without anyone noticing. There’s no telling who or what he might have working on his side, here at Interpol. Besides, I was there. I saw how he screamed at Magnus. I think he wants to be anywhere Magnus isn't.”

  “Magnus isn't here anymore,” said Chief Ben, “but he wouldn't know that. Sebastian can't get far, now that we know what he looks like. We'll catch him again.”

  “Maybe someday,” she agreed absently.

  Ben looked at her, exasperated.

  “All right, get out,” he said. “You have work to do.”

  She looked at him, openmouthed, and then at the kettle ready-boiled, and down at the newspaper. She sighed and walked out of the kitchen.

  Grinning to himself, Chief Ben made a cup of tea and began to leaf through the Metro.

  “Dorian Grey!” Leah announced, as she walked into the library, and Dorian nearly dropped his laptop. He settled immediately. It was unseemly for a Victorian gentleman to be startled.

  “Yes, Leah, what is it?” he asked.

  “You need to join me,” she said, “on an important mission.”

  Dorian was at her side in an instant.

  “Lead on,” he said. “What is it? What's happened?”

  ***

  Dorian looked around the garish red coffee-shop with distrust. It was the shop located within the old subway station, the castle-like building that served as the city centre’s doorway into Caledonia Interpol.

  Leah sighed and leaned back in her soft armchair, holding an enormous mug of tea in her cupped hands. Steam rose from the mug and she closed her eyes, inhaled, and took a sip. She smiled.

  “This was your emergency?” he sniffed. “Really, Miss Bishop. We ought to be working.”

  “Ben stole my Metro,” she said loftily. “I stole his selkie. Drink your espresso. Lighten up, partner. We deserve a holiday.”

  Dorian raised an eyebrow. He grudgingly took a sip, and found it excellent. Perhaps there was time for some relaxation, after all. Leah grinned as he settled back into his chair. She was taking a sip of her tea when he spoke, and she had grown so accustomed to the silence that he startled her.

  “I am sorry,” he said suddenly.

  “What for?” Leah asked.

  “For not suspecting. For not realizing. For not even considering that a selkie might be capable of something like what Magnus has done.”

  He was crestfallen, and she heard what he meant: I never could have imagined that it would be my brother.

  She gave him a grim look and set her mug into its saucer.

  “In the last couple of years, I have learned some hard lessons,” she said. “People that you have always assumed were good – may not be. Some of the things you said about Magnus, and Hazel, and Sebastian – they didn’t add up to the whole that you had always assumed was there. That’s what led me to think of Magnus, as possibly keeping a secret that no one knew about. I was working off a theory, particularly one that involved knowing that you would never have suspected him. You were too close.

  “I’ve learned that people can change for the worse, or perhaps had never been what you’d assumed they were. Hopefully the people you think you know truly are who you think they are, but that is not always the case. When they turn out to be something different, your world turns upside down and you doubt everything, everyone, even your own senses. Where other people wouldn’t see it, maybe someone like me would – the heartbroken. The people the selk are so wired to protect.”

  “So...you might have turned out like Sebastian?” he asked.

  She looked hard at Dorian.

  “The difference between me and Sebastian is that I’m not insane. Probably a drunk, probably obsessive, probably have a hard time letting go…but I’m not insane.”

  Dorian’s face was paler than usual, and tears brimmed in his eyes.

  “How do you stand it?” he asked. “Humans, I mean. The pain...I always thought it was the selkie's fate to suffer. I never thought it would drive one of us mad.”

  She smiled.

  “We don’t,” Leah told him. “I’ve often wondered how you can stand losing your love, if the selk feel the same pain forever.”

  Dorian smiled ruefully.

  “It is a beautiful pain,” he said, “and what we were built for. This…I have no frame of reference for.”

  “Magnus is your brother,” Leah said. “It's a different kind of love.”

  “So we have two firsts,” said Dorian sadly. “The first Fae serial killer, and the first serial killer of the Fae.”

  Leah nodded, taking a drink of her tea.

  “There’s still one more problem, come to that,” he said, businesslike again.

  “What’s that?”

  “We still need to find Sebastian,” he replied.

  Leah's mobile phone began to ring. She picked it up.

  “Hello?” she asked.

  “Ah, Miss Bishop,” said a silver voice she knew too well. “Geoffrey sends his regards.”

  “Sebastian,” she said, waving at Dorian. He looked sharply at her.

  “Your memory serves you well.”

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  He laughed, a cold, hollow sound.

  “Now, really,” he said, “I thought you were a clever girl.”

  “We’ll find you –”

  “Yes, yes. All in good time,” he said. “You and the Amazing Seal Boy. I will watch your career with...interest. This is not, unfortunately, a call for pleasure.”

  Leah shot Dorian a look.

  “Yes, I committed the murders – there, you have a confession. Well done,” said Sebastian. “I think you've earned my statement, considering that you did indeed arrest Mr. Grey. The point is, Miss Leah – as Geoffrey so liked to call you – I’m not the important thing here.”

  “No? You don’t think so?” Leah demanded. “The first serial killer of faeries?”

  “Oh come now. Serial killer? How…film noir. I’m hurt,” he said. “It took you to discover the pendant. If Milo had noticed it, perhaps there would have been fewer deaths. As it was, I was always in the perfect place to remove the pendant before he noticed, in order to give it to the next victim. But no, Leah. You know I did this – that’s not much of a mystery. Finding out that one of the gentle selk is a monster – now that is news. I’m dog bites man, Leah. But Magnus, that’s man bites dog. We’re getting off the subject. The question is – why was Dylan called?”

  “Called?” she asked. “I don’t understand.”

  “Dylan,” he said, exasperated. “Your ned angel. A Guardian isn’t called unless the former Guardian is dead. I know you were busy trying to deal with me but you’ve solved the case now. Congratulations.”

  There was a brief pause. Leah wondered if he had hung up just as he spoke again.

  “Glasgow is my city,” he said. “Never doubt that for an instant. But it’s your responsibility to serve an
d protect it. Do your job, Miss Bishop. Protect my city.”

  “Glasgow isn’t –” Leah began, and realised he had hung up.

  She sat there for a moment, collecting her thoughts. She looked at Dorian, who questioned her with his eyes.

  “He said something about Dylan,” she told her partner. “He also confessed to the murders.” Dorian smiled without humour.

  “Not that we will be able to use the confession,” he said.

  “No, but he says that we're missing something,” she said. “I think he's trying to tell me that he didn't kill one of the Guardians, or the Attendant that Tearlach found.”

  “What? He killed the other supernaturals.”

  “Yes. But he seems to think there's something more going on.”

  “Perhaps,” Dorian said. “But we still don't know exactly how he was able to use the pendant to kill the Fae.”

  “The tear pendant,” Leah said. “Is there a way it can be charmed, to cause something like fatal heartbreak in people? Sebastian has magic, remember?”

  Dorian stared at her, stunned.

  “Why, yes,” he said. “There is that possibility. He could put his charm on it but...”

  Leah knew folklore too well.

  “Only if he used his own tears,” she said.

  Dorian nodded.

  “How would he know to do that?” he asked. “It's selkie magic.”

  “He was best friends with Magnus,” said Leah, “maybe he found out. Or maybe he guessed? He was an archaeologist, after all, and might know the lore.”

  Dorian considered the implications of this possibility. It seemed to fit everything they knew. It wouldn't even be special magic. Nothing else would be needed but Sebastian’s own tears, at the time of his wife's murder, and he would have been able to spin his own power from those atoms of starlight and pain.

  “The selk live in an infinite loop of suffering,” said Dorian. “It's in our nature. He would have had to trap his tears at the moment his wife died, but he would need to have some kind of iron will to be able to do that – to leave her body long enough to use the tear pendant that way.”