by Mike Shevdon
Obediently, I finished the tale, ending with him telling me to get dressed.
"So" – he sat back in the chair – "we know they have her but we don't know where."
"Who has her, Garvin? Who would take my daughter?"
He clasped his hands together in his lap, then leaned forward again.
"The Feyre and humanity have lived alongside each other in peace for centuries. Peace is a relative term, though, and occasionally there are problems. When there are problems on our side, we deal with them. That is part of what the Warders do. On humanity's side, though, things are more complicated. Most humans aren't even aware that the Feyre exist, and that's the way they like it. Occasionally, though, things spill out. People can come into their gifts unexpectedly. If the gift is weak, it isn't usually an issue. Those people can live on the edges of society. They are the psychics, the faith healers, the fortune tellers."
"You think Alex has come into her gifts?"
"We know something happened. They said that three other girls died at the scene. As far as we know, Alex is the only survivor."
"So what happened to Alex? Where is she now?"
"They will have her safe, somewhere. She will be cared for."
"What do you mean, 'cared for'? What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that not everyone comes into their gifts cleanly. For some, the leap is too great. Their bodies know what power is, but their minds…"
"She's not mad, Garvin."
"She may be very frightened. If she can't control it, she may be a danger to herself and everyone around her."
"She's just a girl."
"A girl with a potentially lethal talent."
"They did things to her, Garvin. They were hurting her."
He took a deep breath. "You may… may, I said… be able to get her back. But the person you get back may not be your daughter."
"She'll always be my daughter."
"You may not like what she's become."
"I'm her father, Garvin. What do you expect me to do? I can't leave her there. What if she's hurt, or frightened, or lonely?"
"What if she's all of those things and much worse besides? Can you do what needs to be done?"
I stopped. "What are you talking about?"
"If she's not their problem, she's ours. That's what the Warders do, Niall. They clean up the mess."
"You're talking about killing her. You can't kill my daughter. She's just a child."
"If it comes to it, can you?"
I closed my eyes. I couldn't lie to him. "No."
"Then maybe she's better off where she is."
"But they're hurting her."
"They only hurt her when you spoke to her. If you leave her be, she could be fine. She might be able to have something close to a normal life."
"What kind of a life would that be, Garvin? Drugged up, half awake, frightened, wondering if it's the drugs that's making her see things? Is that the life you're talking about?" I was shouting. I hadn't meant to shout.
"Sometimes it's kinder to let things be," he said quietly.
"They took her from me. They snatched her from right under my nose. Christ! I even signed the consent forms. They had a truck waiting outside. I thought it was strange at the time. There was a tinge of cold iron about it. Cold iron, Garvin: the antithesis of power and utterly poisonous to the Feyre. Is that the kindness with which they are treating my daughter? Is that the care they're lavishing on her?"
"Do you want me to deal with her?"
"What?"
"If you ask me, I'll find her and deal with it. I would do that for you."
"No! I don't want anyone to deal with her. I want her back. I want my baby girl. Surely you can understand that?"
"And if she isn't anyone you would recognise?"
"Then I'll care for her. Her mother will care for her. Oh, God, what am I going to tell Katherine?"
"You're not going to tell her anything."
"But she's her mother. She thinks she's dead."
"Then let her grieve once for her daughter. Don't dangle hope in front of her and then snatch it away, Niall. Once is enough."
"You really think she's dangerous?"
"She killed three other girls. This was no accident. The biological contamination they were talking about was your daughter. She was the biological contaminant. They cleaned up after her. They dealt with the families of the dead girls the same way they dealt with you. They reassured you that nothing could have been done and they made sure she couldn't hurt anyone else. That's all they can do. The only other option is to put her out of her misery."
"Put her out…" I couldn't say it.
"It's what we would do. The Feyre don't nurse their sick."
He let that sink in.
"Think about it, Niall. She's safe for the moment. She's probably got the best care that can be provided as things are. Maybe you need to think about what's best for her."
I shook my head. I couldn't believe what he was telling me. He slowly stood and patted my shoulder. Then he left me to think. I sat until the light faded from the gap in the curtains and I was just another outline in the shrouded twilight. It wasn't until Blackbird found me that I stirred.
"Niall?"
"I'm here."
"What are you doing?"
"Thinking."
She stood over me, a vague figure in the gloom. "What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing. Just something Garvin said."
She nudged my knee with hers until I shifted along the sofa, leaving room for her to slide in beside me. She sat on the edge, capturing my hand between hers, twining her fingers into mine.
"Niall, am I a burden to you?"
"What?"
"Because if I am, you don't have to stay with me."
"What are you talking about? Of course you're not a burden to me."
"Then why don't you talk to me any more? Ever since Alex died… since you were told she had died… you haven't said a word to me."
"I have. I've been busy, that's all."
"You've spoken to me, but we haven't talked. You're not telling me anything. Have I done something wrong?"
"No! It's not you. It's me."
"If I've done something, you have to tell me what it is."
"You haven't done anything, I promise. I was just so wrapped up in what happened. I'm sorry. I'll try harder."
"You're doing it again."
"What?"
"Pushing me away, closing me out, clamming up."
She tried to stand, but I had her hand and gently pulled her back down. "Stay, please?" She relented and sat back down beside me.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was right. I had insulated myself from the pain of losing Alex, and in doing so I had isolated myself from everyone, even Blackbird. I think she understood that better than I did. It was hard to admit that the closeness we had found together was so fragile; that it could be undermined so quickly.
"I'm thinking about Alex." I told her what Garvin had said.
"You're not seriously thinking of doing that, are you?"
"Garvin may be right. It may be what's best for her."
"Rubbish!"
"She may not be able to come back to us, and I can't deal with it. I just can't." I shook my head in the twilight.
"You're not thinking straight, Niall. This is your daughter. Did she sound mad?"
"She didn't say much. There wasn't time."
"Was she raving or screaming? Was there violence?"
"No, she just sounded lost and alone."
"Then find her. She's relying on you. You are the only person in the world who can help her. You have to have faith that she is your daughter and nothing–" She leaned forward and cupped my chin in her fingers so she could look straight into my eyes. "Nothing changes that. If she is truly beyond help, deal with it then, don't fail her now."
I stood and paced the floor between the shrouded furniture. "What if Garvin's right? What if she's insane, dangerous eve
n?"
"What if this? What if that? Does it make a difference? You're her father, Niall."
"No, you're right. I have to find her."
"Of course I'm right. She's your daughter."
She got to her feet and came to me, easing into my arms. Between us, there was an answering kick from the bump in her belly.
She looked down and when she lifted her eyes back to mine there was a tiny glint of green fire in them. "I think something is coming between us."
I slumped back on to the sofa and she collapsed backwards into me and rested her head on my shoulder. "I am so fat," she said.
I stroked my hand over the bump that held my son. "It suits you."
"It does not. I look like a python that's swallowed a beach ball."
"A beach ball that kicks."
"A beach ball that's getting bigger. It's going to be touch and go. I could burst before he's cooked."
"He'll come when he's ready."
"And when will that be?"
"I don't know. It's been…" I counted in my head. "Nine months. A little more, maybe?"
Her sigh turned into a groan. "He's so heavy."
"Were you OK walking down to the village?"
"Of course. Tate's funny. He thinks I boss you around."
"You do."
"No, I don't. I make suggestions that are eminently sensible that no rational person could argue with."
"That's what I said."
She pressed her knuckle against my knee joint until I yelped. "Ow! You're mean."
"Don't argue with a pregnant woman. They can be very emotional."
"And violent, apparently."
She relaxed back into me, satisfied that she had won.
"How am I going to find her?" It was a question partly to myself.
"Maybe you'll be able to reach her again, and listen in to what's going on around her."
"No. They were panicking when I reached her the first time. They'll keep her sedated until they're sure I'm not looking for her."
"You may have to be patient."
"Not my strongest point. No, I think I need to find out who's got her. The obvious place to start is with Mr Phillips, the consultant who brought the consent forms. He must have known they were going to take her. Find him and I find a way to her."
"So find him."
"What, now?"
"Is there a better time?"
Over the fireplace there was a large mirror with a dust cloth draped partly across it. Blackbird slid sideways on to the seat and let me rise so I could draw the dust sheet down. It fell in ripples to the fireplace. Even in the gloom I could see the frame was ornate, two herons facing each other across the pool of glass. It was high above the fireplace and difficult to reach, but I didn't need contact to do this. I formed a connection with the well of darkness deep within me and reached into the depths of the mirror with my intention, connecting that focus to the core of power within me.
"Mr Phillips?"
I could feel the link with the mirror. I wondered for a moment how the mirror knew which Mr Phillips I wanted, but then realised that it was linked not to the words but to my image of him.
"Mr Phillips?"
The mirror went opaque as I intensified the connection, the surface glowing like fluorescent milk. There was a small ticking sound, increasing in pace until it was a buzz.
"Where are you, Mr Phillips?" I was beginning to like this. Once I knew where this guy was, I could use him to find my daughter.
Suddenly the sound changed. It was like bad feedback on an untuned guitar, jarring in intensity, full of wrongness. It rose to a deafening roar and the glass crazed and then flew apart in a rain of fine shards. Blackbird and I shielded ourselves and it was a moment before we both realised that the sound had gone.
The frame was empty, the mirror shattered.
FOUR
Fionh appeared in the doorway. She switched on the main light and the guilty carpet of shards glinted around me.
"What were you doing?" she asked.
"I was using the mirror," I tried to explain. "Something went wrong."
Garvin appeared at Fionh's shoulder. He surveyed the room and then entered. "So you decided to try and find her anyway?"
"Blackbird thinks she's not mad, and I agree with her."
"And if she is?"
"If she is, I'll deal with it."
"You told me earlier that you couldn't. You weren't lying."
"I'm not lying now, either."
"What changed your mind?"
"I'm her father, Garvin. I needed to remember that. I'll do what needs to be done, but she's not mad."
"You don't know that."
"Neither do you." It was stalemate.
Into the room bustled an old man. I had seen no one that old among the Feyre. Fionh moved out of his way, as did Garvin. He carried a dustpan and brush and offered his hand to lead me gently from the wreckage of the mirror.
"Mr Garvin, would you be kind enough to ask Mr Dogstar not to break any more of the furnishings if he could manage that?" he said. He went down to his knees and began carefully sweeping up glass. There was no sarcasm in the comment.
"I will make sure he gets the message, Mullbrook." He looked at me and I nodded my assent. "Are our guests' rooms ready?"
"I have put them in the east wing where I hope that Miss Blackbird will find the morning sunshine to her liking," he said. "The beds should be aired by now and there's plenty of hot water. If you wouldn't mind showing them where their rooms are, I have some clearing up to do."
"I'll show them," Garvin said.
We were ushered out ahead of Garvin while Mullbrook remained, carefully sweeping up the debris. I was about to say something to Garvin when he held his fingers to his lips. It wasn't until we had ascended the main staircase and turned through the double doors on the landing that he spoke.
"Mullbrook has ears like a bat," Garvin commented, "So just be aware that he will overhear anything you say."
"Is that a problem?"
"No. He's absolutely loyal and the soul of discretion. I just don't want you upsetting him. This place runs like clockwork and that is largely due to him. If you offend him we may end up having kidneys for breakfast for a week."
I glanced towards Blackbird, who had turned slightly green.
"Kidneys?"
"Or tripe. Tripe is a favourite when he's upset."
"For breakfast?"
"Just don't offend him, and try not to break anything else. This is his home as much as it is anyone's and you're his guest."
"Who is he?"
"He's the chief steward. He looks after the house and makes sure that everything runs as it should."
"He's not fey, is he?" said Blackbird.
"No. He's quite human, but he's served the Feyre for most of his life and even the High Council pay attention to him, so don't upset him. He'll look after you while you're here. If you need anything, just ask and it will be provided. There are other staff too. Try not to get in their way."
He stopped outside a double doorway, opened one of the doors and ushered Blackbird in before him. I followed behind. Inside was a suite of rooms: a sitting room with a fire laid ready to light, a bedroom with one of the biggest beds I've ever seen. The deep red coverlet had been drawn back and the quilt turned back on each side, exposing white cotton sheets. Through another door there was a marble-tiled bathroom with a huge double-ended bath.
"This is sumptuous, Garvin," said Blackbird.
"Thank Mullbrook. He thinks you need looking after."
I went to the tall French windows, discovering a small balcony with views out over the valley. The light had faded, leaving the landscape scattered with pinpoint lights under moonlit clouds. I turned back to Garvin.
"You can't ask me not to look for her."
"I could, but I'm not going to. I'm asking you not to look for her now, not from here. You've already compromised one location. I don't know whether that stunt you pulled downstairs was your i
dea or Blackbird's." He looked from me to her, then back to me. "But you swore to protect the High Council, Dogstar, and if you bring the sort of attention that you brought to your last house here, you will be breaking your vows."
