Megan.
His heart went out to her. How was she holding up, suddenly as the center of all this attention? He hoped she was doing all right.
The sooner he finished this, the sooner he would find out.
He glanced around the large—and now mostly empty—main room. “We need to do this thing,” he said softly.
Travers nodded. “Follow me.”
He led them through a maze of slot machines. Sometimes it seemed like Travers was walking them through a wall, only to have the wall dissolve into nothing as they approached. Travers walked through video poker games and baccarat tables and even a stage with a very confused stand-up comic still clutching a mike.
The comic, who was clearly human and looked like he was dressed for vaudeville, saw them and said, “Where’d the audience go?”
“They’ll be back,” Rob said.
If the situation were different, he would have spelled the poor sap to the surface. But he didn’t dare, at least not yet. Mage magic: he wasn’t willing to risk it.
But he asked Travers to make a note of where this guy was so that they could rescue him if they got the chance.
“Softie,” John whispered, and then grinned.
Rob didn’t smile back.
After a few minutes, they reached a fork in the path that actually appeared in the fakey visuals. A sign post grew out of a bank of slot machines. The signs, like the ones in M*A*S*H, pointed every different direction. Some showed the way to a buffet, others to a bar, even more toward various parts of the gambling floor.
And one, pointing up, said simply The Circle.
Rob’s breath caught. “This is it.”
“Don’t let that fool you,” Travers said. “The arrows point the wrong way.”
Rob nodded. That didn’t surprise him. “But we want to go there, right? That’s the Faerie Circle.”
Travers looked at him sideways. “We want to go there, but I have no idea what it is.”
“Faerie Circle,” John repeated loudly—that old dodge: if they don’t understand, shout. “You know, where the Great Rulers used to sit and rule Faerie. You know, the Seelie and the Unseelie Courts?”
“Noooo,” Travers said.
“Where the Faerie Kings overthrew them and started the Great War that ended only when all the pixies died?”
“No-o-o,” Travers repeated.
“History doesn’t matter,” Rob said. “Getting this done does. Let’s go.”
Travers headed down a flight of stairs, and suddenly Rob recognized where he was. It was the room of Zoe’s memory—and it was a circle, a big round area filled with games (not at all like the ones she had seen) and dozens of small roulette wheels, and a large pari-mutuel betting area—all set up to bet on future human events.
Rob didn’t look at the odds; he didn’t want to see any of it.
But he did turn toward the center of the circle, and there, just like he expected, was the giant spinning wheel, done up like a giant roulette wheel.
And there, next to it, but not at all like he expected, were three men, sitting in those three chairs he’d seen from the vision.
They were Faerie, but they looked almost satanic as they sat in those big thrones next to the wheel, their hands gripping the armrests. They wore black clothes that accented their dark hair and dark eyes, and when they smiled, they did so in unison—shades of the Fates.
Rob shuddered.
“Welcome to Faerie, Sir Robin Hood,” said the Faerie farthest to the left.
“And his Merry Men,” said the next, nodding at John and Travers.
“We’re the Faerie Kings,” said the third, “and we’re here to prevent you from dismantling our home.”
Forty
The dining room was getting unbearably warm. A drop of sweat ran down the side of Megan’s face, stopping on her chin before leaping to freedom.
The cigarette girl reached out a hand and caught it, grossing Megan out.
How long had she been here? One day? Two? An entire century?
Even though she knew that wasn’t the case. She’d probably been in her seat an hour, maybe less.
A sea of black heads filled the room, with more arriving all the time. If there was a fire, no one would get out, least of all Meg. She’d never been claustrophobic before, but she was now.
At least, the Faeries didn’t seem to sweat—or perhaps they didn’t stink when they did. The place smelled faintly of cloves—or maybe that was all her nose could pick out after that liberal dosing of cigarette smoke.
What she wouldn’t give for a glass of water. Or a cool breeze. Or someone to talk to, someone who didn’t end every sentence with “Wow.”
If she hadn’t heard how scary these people were, she wouldn’t have believed it—scary smart, that is. Right now, they were scary zombie, which actually worked up close (it had never worked for her in the movies—but oh, boy, had she been wrong).
Not looking at her watch was becoming a big issue. She kept her hands clenched in her lap, just so she wouldn’t be tempted to look. She was afraid the Faeries would catch on then, that she was a diversion and not the main event at all.
And then—suddenly—a bright blue light exploded in the room. Only the Faeries didn’t seem to notice. Megan blinked hard, seeing yellow and green reflections on her eyelids.
When the reflections cleared, a man sat in the chair across from her.
He looked vaguely familiar, and he certainly wasn’t Faerie. Even though he had dark hair, his face was too craggy, his ears too round. He reminded her somehow of a bull, but she wasn’t sure why.
When he saw her looking at him, he grinned.
“You seem nervous,” he said.
He had a bit of an accent, but it didn’t sound familiar to her. The Faeries near him glared at him, and a few made some kind of warding symbol with their fingers.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Silly girl, haven’t they taught you names have power?” He smiled, and there was a smarmy charm in it. He had charisma, which made her shiver.
Some of the Faeries turned toward him, as if noticing him for the first time. He waved a hand, and the Faeries looked back at Megan, as if they had forgotten him.
“You know, they say you have magic, and perhaps you do, but what you really have is so much more interesting. An overflow of emotions. How very female.” And then he laughed.
She didn’t. He might have charisma, but that didn’t mean she liked him.
“Of course, you don’t have enough magic to get yourself out of this pretty little mess.” He tilted his square head. Definitely a bull. All she needed now was a china shop, because she felt like he was heading for destruction.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Suuuuure you are. That’s why you wanted ‘this’ to be over soon. Don’t think someone didn’t notice your little message.” His grin widened. “I do so love coming to the rescue of beautiful women. Their gratitude always astonishes me.”
She wished she really did have magic now. She’d turn him into a real bull and paint this entire room red. See how he’d like that.
“Ah,” he said, “did I anger you?”
“I’m fine,” she said, and that was when she realized she got no emotional hit off of him either. She hadn’t expected any off the Faeries—she’d been warned about that—but this guy was as cold as the creatures around her.
He smiled, but this time, it didn’t reach his eyes. “You and I have unfinished business.”
“I’ve never met you,” she said.
“It doesn’t matter. My daughters have. And you’ve ruined them.”
Megan felt a chill run down her back. “Ze—?”
He put a finger over her lips. His fingertip smelled of wine. “No names, little girl. Are you ready to leave?”
She shook her head.
“Good.” He removed his finger from her lips.
“I said no,” she snapped.
<
br /> “And I’m ignoring you. But there seems to be a reason you’re here, so we’ll just add a little confusion into the mix, shall we?” He clapped his hands, and a woman appeared on a chair next to her.
Megan looked. It wasn’t just any woman. It was a woman who looked just like her, right down to the extra forty pounds, the too-pale skin, and the mole at the edge of her collarbone.
“What’re you doing?” Megan asked.
“Creating a diversion,” he said.
The Faeries looked at her, then at the unmoving woman, and they seemed to be waking from their trance.
“Oh, what a titanic nuisance,” he said. “Let’s douse her in emotion, shall we? I think all the emotion from the last five minutes in Chicago will do nicely.”
He clapped his hands again, and a sheath fell over the other woman. Then Megan felt like she was hit with a tidal wave—anger, fear, lust, hatred, love, more love—and she couldn’t separate it out, it was too overwhelming, she would drown in it…
The square little man grabbed her hand, pulled her to him, and grinned.
“Time to pay the piper, sweetheart,” he said, and together, they disappeared.
Forty-one
“Something’s wrong,” Kyle said.
Zoe turned to him, her face filled with concern. Behind her, on the screen, thousands of Faeries, more than Kyle had imagined possible, crowded against the entrance of the casino.
The Fates were identifying some of them by name, calling them long-lost or tricksters in disguise.
“What do you mean, something’s wrong?” Zoe asked.
Kyle shook his head. His stomach wasn’t just queasy, it was rolling. He’d gotten a real sense of disgust, followed by a sense of panic, and then anger, and then complete overwhelmedness (if that was a word).
All this was coming from Aunt Megan. He knew it, even though there weren’t any words. He had expected words, but for some reason, she was just sending emotion.
“Aunt Megan, she’s overwhelmed.” His voice was shaking.
“Of course she is, Kyle. Look at that building.” Zoe’s lips were set in a straight line. “I’m not sure how much of that I could take, and I’m not new to my powers.”
“She’s not either,” Kyle said, feeling the need to defend his aunt. “She’s just new to identifying them.”
Zoe nodded, but a frown still creased her forehead. “Should we go get her?”
Kyle tried to send a message to her, but he didn’t get a response. Not that he could have. He had no idea if she could just send back at will. They hadn’t tested that part.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Are you still getting her emotions?” Zoe asked.
The Fates had turned in their chairs too. They had their hands folded in identical ways, and were staring at him. His cheeks grew warm.
“No,” he whispered.
“Then maybe it was a momentary thing?” Zoe asked.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“If we break this up too soon, we put the men in danger,” Zoe said.
“I know,” Kyle said.
“So, you’ll have to tell me—”
“I’m eleven,” he snapped. “I’m eleven, you’re the grown-up, my aunt is overwhelmed, and I’m scared. You decide.”
Zoe stepped back as if he had hit her.
“He has a point,” Clotho said.
“You should never put children in charge of things,” Lachesis said.
“It’s not fair,” Atropos said.
“Besides, it makes for very messy business,” Clotho said.
“As the Interim Fates have shown,” Lachesis said.
“Enough!” Zoe snapped. “You were supposed to be quiet.”
She put her hands to her head and looked at that mess still surrounding the casino. Kyle closed his eyes, feeling for Aunt Meg with his brain, but he couldn’t find her.
That was okay. Everybody said that might happen. This was a scary thing, and the Faerie casino might make a sending inside impossible. Besides, he might call too much attention to her if he wasn’t careful.
His eyes filled with tears.
“We give it just a few more minutes,” Zoe said. “If you get another feeling or if you hear from her, you tell me. Otherwise, we go after her at my mark. Okay?”
He blinked his eyes open. The tears stuck to his lashes. He felt like a dork, a really scared dork.
“Okay,” he said.
“Do you think that’s too much?” Zoe asked.
“You’re asking the child again,” Atropos said.
“He has to tell me if he has another sense of Megan,” Zoe said.
Kyle shook his head. He had no sense of her at all, and that really bugged him.
It was almost like she was gone.
Forty-two
They weren’t supposed to be here.
The all-powerful Faerie Kings should have been heading toward that casino on Boulder Highway, if they were even in Vegas, off to see the empath, like the rest of their tribe.
Instead, they were sitting on thrones, looking every bit as regal as kings should.
And those thrones ringed the spinning wheel. There was no way Rob could just lift it loose, and these guys out-magicked him a thousand to one.
There was no way he and John and Travers could take on the Faerie Kings and win.
But this was like the old days. They didn’t have to take on the kings and win.
They just had to divert the kings, steal their attention for a moment, so that someone could grab that wheel.
“You know me,” Rob said. He had to come up with a plan and he had to do it fast.
The third Faerie King smiled at him. “We’ve been waiting for you, Sir Robin of Hood. We’ve heard that you are our destiny.”
Great. He didn’t want to hear his prophecy, but he got to hear theirs.
“So we’ve been following your career,” said the first Faerie King. “Quite stellar.”
“Thanks,” Rob said. “I think.”
Travers was shooting him a panicked look. Rob couldn’t do much with Travers, but he and John had been fighting side by side for centuries.
Rob flashed John a look. John raised his weird eyebrows—code for whatever you want to do, boss.
“How are the Fates, anyway?” the second Faerie King asked.
“Just fine,” Rob said, wondering why they asked.
“Because they’re supposed to be here too,” said the third Faerie King.
“Really?” Rob asked, moving forward just a little. “Says who?”
“We don’t have an oracle,” the first Faerie King said.
“But we do have access to this lovely wheel,” the second Faerie King said—and he spun it as he said that, sending lights everywhere in the Faerie circle.
Which was just the diversion that Rob wanted. He conjured three swords, one for him, one for John, and one for Travers, and tossed the other two men theirs.
Then he leapt, Errol Flynn style, onto the platform holding the wheel, grabbed the first Faerie King, and yanked him out of the throne, placing the sword at his neck.
He doubted he could kill a Faerie, but he sure as heck was going to try.
Forty-three
To Megan’s surprise, she wasn’t frightened of the most powerful man in the magical world. He had her in some kind of spell and had moved her from the casino (for which she felt a little too much relief, considering how much danger it probably put Rob in) to somewhere else.
It felt like they were suspended in time. And then they landed. They didn’t end up in some giant Greek coliseum or even in the smelly library, but in her office. It was after hours, and the place had a dry, unused smell, even though she’d only been gone for a day or two.
Lights were on that should have been off, and the door to her therapy room was open. Zeus strode across the carpeted floor like he owned the place.
She certainly didn’t want him in that room—it was a safe room, a place where her clients fe
lt comfortable to say anything they wanted, and even though she was closing it down, she didn’t want him violating it.
“Daddy, jeez!”
“Oh, man!”
“This just blows.”
Megan felt stunned. She recognized those voices. The Interim Fates. Why were they here and not in their library, attempting to govern the world?
She peered in the doorway. There they were, all three girls, sitting on her extra-long couch. Brittany clutched a Raggedy Anne doll that Megan used for the younger patients. Crystal was examining a naked Barbie. And Tiffany had both hands clenched into fists. She was glaring—at Megan.
“It’s about time,” Brittany said.
“We’ve been waiting, like, forever,” Crystal said.
“You promised you could help us,” Tiffany snapped, “and then you bring him.”
Well, this situation was out of control. These girls were furious and terrified, and Zeus wasn’t exactly calm. He stood just inside the door, his hands at his sides, watching his daughters as if he’d never seen them before.
Megan stepped inside the room. They all had more magic than she did—that was the risk—but this was her place, the place where she confronted people who always had more something than she did—whether it was real power or real money or real chutzpah.
Actually, she usually had the most of that, and she was going to use it now.
“I didn’t bring him,” Megan said. “He brought me.”
“Grrrr-ate,” Brittany said.
“You’re right,” Crystal said to Tiffany. “This blows.”
“You were supposed to be here,” Tiffany said, ignoring the others.
“Well, no,” Megan said. “I’m supposed to be baby-sitting my nephew.”
“In a casino?” Even Zeus sounded shocked, although why should he? This was a man who had more love affairs than anyone else in any mythology, a man who carelessly abandoned children, after, of course, fathering more of them than any other so-called god she could think of. Why would he care if a child was in a casino?
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