by Clara Martin
I walked back out to my car. My spirits sank when I didn’t see Charles, but I shoved the disappointment away. I had a mission to complete. I gave my mother the thumbs-up. She nodded, and Nate gunned the engine.
I slid in, and then spotted a note on my dashboard. I frowned. The car had been locked. I carefully unfolded it.
Check your trunk - C
Getting out, I walked around to my trunk and opened it. There was a small box in it, gift wrapped in blue paper with a blue bow taped on top. I took it back to the front seat and carefully opened it. My breath caught. It was a pistol. Quickly, I checked the magazine and the safety. The safety was on, but the pistol was loaded. I held it, checking the weight, the balance, and the grip. It was perfect.
I gently placed it in the passenger side seat, ejecting the magazine and tossing it into the back seat. There. Now I was legal. I pulled out of the spot, waving at my mother and Nate. My mother’s eyebrows were raised.
The drive to the embassy seemed to take forever. I checked the time when I pulled up to the embassy—seven forty-five. It’d barely been a thirty-minute drive but seemed to have taken hours. I paused. Should I take the pistol? I doubted they’d let me bring it in. Frowning, I left it where it was, putting an old T-shirt from my gym bag on top of it.
The embassy was a large building, a stately Georgian home with a valet. I got out of the car, leaving it running, and reluctantly handed my keys to the human valet. I didn’t like losing control of my car but took comfort in knowing that I was being tailed by at least two cars. “I’m expected,” I told him. He nodded silently and got in my car. As he did, I could’ve sworn he cast me a sympathetic look from his downturned eyes.
I walked to the front door, breathing slightly hard, and knocked. The door opened. A stately fae stood there, his long black hair swept back in a French braid, his robes black and scarlet. The Northern Sun coat of arms was embroidered over his heart. “Eileen O’Donnell,” I said, staring directly into his eyes. “I’m expected.”
He nodded, saying nothing, and stood to the side, opening the door wider. I squared my shoulders and walked in. “Where is Prince Faolain?” I asked.
“Here,” a deep, growling voice sounded. I looked up. There was a wide set of stairs in the entry hall, which Faolain was descending. He’d traded the armor for a magnificent robe, also black and scarlet, with a wide sash crossing his right shoulder. It was embroidered in gold with the coat of arms. He wore his hair back, also in a French braid, and had a circlet on his head.
“Eileen O’Donnell.” He stopped in front of me and looked directly at me. I stared back, feeling pressure behind my eyes. Faolain frowned intently, eyes moving slowly over my face. “I see that you dressed up,” he said dryly.
I looked down. I was wearing what I’d gone to work in—black pants, a grey sweater with a hood, and black boots. My hair was in a bun at the back of my head. “You’re lucky I didn’t show up in sweatpants,” I shot back.
Faolain frowned harder. I felt the pressure behind my eyes build, and I blinked. The pressure eased, and Faolain’s lips pursed. “This way,” he said sourly, gesturing to the right.
I followed him to a small room off the hall. It was elegantly appointed, scarlet curtains pulled back with golden ties, uncomfortable wooden chairs sitting next to the windows. Prince Faolain gestured me into one. “Please, sit,” he said. I sat, lacing my hands in front of me and crossing my legs. Faolain frowned again and then followed suit, copying my body posture. “I need to know how you did what you did back in McConnell Consultants.”
I blinked. “Did what? Punch you in the face?”
“No,” he snapped. I noticed that his nose looked completely normal, an elegant Roman blade that Michelangelo would’ve begged to carve. “The bond. How did you initiate it?”
“What bond?” I blinked again. He sighed, impatient.
“You know what you did, Eileen O’Donnell. You feel the bond.” Faolain leaned forward. “Undo it. This is no good for either of us.”
“I ... didn’t initiate a bond.” The spot on my shoulder twinged again. I frowned as I felt a burn spread through my body. I looked at Faolain sharply. “What are you doing?”
“I’m doing nothing, Eileen O’Donnell.” He spat my name out, as though it tasted bad. “You did it.”
“I have no magic, if you didn’t notice,” I said coldly, rising to my feet.
“I know the story.” Faolain remained seated. “You were in the army. One of your soldiers was in a fight with someone. You stepped in and took a sharp blow to the head.” He paused. “You didn’t go in for medical treatment for almost a week.”
I sat back down. “How did you get ahold of my medical records?” I asked angrily.
“I have my ways.” Faolain could have been carved from stone. “Now. You have no magic. How did you initiate the bond?”
“Perhaps I didn’t,” I snapped. “Perhaps you did. Perhaps you’re not as in control as you think you are. And you haven’t explained what a bond is.”
“Are you dense?” Faolain’s voice was cold and cutting. “What use would I have for you? And a bond ... ” he paused, as though searching for the right words, “... it draws us together. Eventually, we’ll be able to speak mind-to-mind.”
I leaned forward. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Faolain smiled. “No. I’m not. And I’ve been practicing magic for well over two hundred years—I assure you, I did not lose control.” He paused again, then leaned forward. Out of nowhere, he grabbed my arm—just like he had in our fight. I screamed and leaned back. It was too late. Energy flooded through me, burning, cutting. I felt the wire on my skin spark.
“So,” Faolain said softly, releasing my hand. “It’s all true. You have no magic.” He put his hand to his head, running it down his braid in thought.
“As I told you,” I said angrily. “You gave me your word that I’d have safe passage, and safety while I was here.”
“So I did,” Faolain said lazily. “Are you accusing me of breaking it? That’s a serious accusation, you know. You’d have to take me to a Court of Honor.” He smiled, his teeth flashing. “We’d see how they’d rule—a human against a fae prince?” He paused. “But, as it happens,” he murmured, “I didn’t break my word. That was to answer a question, nothing more—and if you’d specified that, my dear, I would’ve kept my word. Don’t blame me that neither your nor your advisors can think.” His gaze swept down my body. “And I’m afraid your little wire is out. Clever, but not clever enough ... very few technological things can stand up to the full might of a fae prince.”
I swallowed. “When will we begin hearing mind-to-mind?” I asked.
“It depends.” He laced his fingers together again. “A year? Two? Ten? There’s no way to know. It depends on how sympathetic are magics are.”
“I have none.”
“Not quite,” he said, lifting a finger in admonishment. “You have it. You just can’t use it. Your prefrontal cortex is damaged.” Faolain paused. “If you were fae, your body would’ve adapted by now. Built new neural passageways to allow the impulses to flow. Fortunately for me,” his teeth flashed in a smile, “you’re not fae.” He stood abruptly.
“This little audience is finished,” he murmured. “Eileen O’Donnell.” He swept his hand to the door.
“Prince Faolain,” I said, voice tight. I turned to the door and marched out. A lieutenant on a parade ground, Charles’s voice echoed in my head.
The fae who had opened the door was waiting for me. “Eileen O’Donnell,” he said coldly. “You were invited. Your guest was not.”
I blinked. “Guest?”
The fae swung the door open. Charles stood there, at parade rest, eyes fixed unblinkingly on the door. He saw me, and his eyes lightened, though they never lost their hard edge.
“Let’s go,” he growled, reaching for my arm. I
stumbled and he caught me, waiting until I got my feet back under me. I swallowed.
“Let’s go,” I agreed. We walked together down the stairs, where the valet waited with my car. I swung in and blinked. Charles was seated in the passenger seat.
“What about your car?” I asked in astonishment.
“Don’t worry about it,” he growled. “What possessed you to give your car to the valet?”
I swallowed. “There was nowhere to park, and I knew I was being tailed—”
“You should’ve parked in the damn driveway,” he snapped. His eyes flashed. “You gave up your means of escape.”
I nodded weakly. He was right.
“Just drive,” he said, sounding disgusted. I noticed that he had my pistol in his lap. “And,” he added, voice dangerous, “I reloaded your pistol.”
I nodded again and did as he said—drove.
Chapter 5
I didn’t stop driving until I reached the NVRA. Charles sat silently next to me, one hand on my pistol, the other lying casually next to the window. He constantly checked the driver’s mirror and the left and right mirrors.
“You’re as paranoid as I am,” I said flippantly, trying to lighten the atmosphere.
“Worse,” he growled, eyes flicking from window to window. I pulled into the parking lot at the NVRA and he jumped out. “Stay there,” he ordered. My mother’s car pulled in next to mine, followed by the tail I’d been assigned. Charles grunted with satisfaction, coming around to the driver’s door and opening it. I eyed him but allowed him to hand me out.
“Time for debrief,” he murmured. He stuck the pistol in my hand “Keep that. And get a holster.”
“It’s a kind gift,” I said slowly, “but I don’t think Faolain wants to kill me.”
“And his enemies?” Charles snapped. He patted the pistol. “Keep it. Don’t lose it. And use it if you need it.” His hand at the small of my back, he guided me through the door. “Have dinner with me,” he said, not looking at me.
I swallowed. “I can’t,” I said, voice flat.
“Why not?” His voice was full of mocking laughter. “Jealous boyfriend?”
“No,” I said, voice heavy. “You forget I’m a schizophrenic, magic-less former lieutenant with nothing to offer. I’d just hurt you.”
He growled. “That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.” He leaned into the conference door, whispering his password and ushering me through. “You’re smart. You have intelligent but misguided views on the science of war. You’re capable, except when you forget your weapon when meeting a potential enemy. Have dinner with me.”
I swallowed. “No promises,” I warned him.
“No promises,” he agreed. His hand tightened on the small of my back. “Let’s get this debrief over with. How does tomorrow night, seven o’clock work? I’ll pick you up.”
“Sounds good,” I said, feeling hopeless. This would end badly, I was sure of it.
He whispered to the door of the War Room. It opened, and I went through. Jenny, Phillip, Anna, and Garrett were all standing around the BFT, staring at it.
“See, the forces aren’t moving,” Phillip said, pointing at the BFT. “The safe house reports all clear. I think we’re okay.” He looked up and saw me with Charles. “Ah, Eileen,” he said, sounding relieved. “That was tense.” He gestured at Jenny. “Let’s get the wire off.” He, Garrett, and Charles politely turned away as I lifted my shirt, and Jenny took off the wire. That was more of a rip, I thought, staring at her as she tucked the ruined wire in an envelope. I wondered what her problem was but sighed as her eyes flicked to Charles. Of course it would be that.
“All right,” Anna said, clapping her hands. “Let’s start, shall we?” She motioned to the conference table. We all sat down around it—Charles next to me, Anna at the head as she played with her pen. “We all heard what was happening, Eileen,” she continued, “Up to the time Faolain destroyed your wire.” She paused. “What happened next?”
“He said ... ” I took a deep breath “... that eventually we’d be able to speak mind-to-mind.” Beside me, Charles shifted restlessly. His hands were clasped tightly, and he was staring at the center of the table.
“I see,” Anna murmured. Her face had gone white. “Did he say when that would happen?”
“No,” I replied, clenching my own fists. “He said it depended on the compatibility of our magic.”
“This is a security violation,” Jenny interrupted, pointing her finger at me. “She needs to go.” She looked a little triumphant. I swallowed.
“I understand if I have to go,” I said, trying to keep my voice from cracking. I began to rise. Charles’s hand clasped my wrist and pulled me back down.
“No,” he said, in a tone that brooked no arguments. “You don’t.” He looked at Anna. “She hasn’t heard him yet,” he pointed out, “and it could be a valuable asset.”
Anna frowned, drumming her pen on the table again. “You’re correct,” she said slowly, “assuming she doesn’t give any information to him. By accident, of course,” she added, turning to me.
“Yes,” I said, lips numb.
“This could be valuable to the war,” Garrett said. “A way into the enemy’s mind? Properly controlled, it could be a great help to us.”
“But how will I keep him from knowing about me?” I interjected.
“We have methods,” Anna said, a gleam in her eye. “Charles,” she glanced at him, “can you teach them to her?”
“With pleasure,” he murmured. He still hadn’t released my wrist. “We’ll start tonight.”
I felt the stirrings of hope. “There are methods?” I asked, turning to Charles. He was looking at me, eyes soft once more.
“There are,” he acknowledged. “They take willpower, focus, and mental strength. You’ve already beaten a Truth spell”—he gestured at Jenny, who frowned angrily—“so I have no doubt you can also beat Faolain.” Anna’s face registered pain, once more, at the mention of Faolain’s name.
“With that, then,” she said, regaining control of herself, “we’re dismissed. Be back tomorrow at nine.” She stood. “Unless, Eileen, you and Charles are up all night working on your barrier. Just text me.” She exited the War Room, followed by Garrett. Jenny lingered.
“This is a mistake, Charles,” she said, looking at me. “She could endanger everything we’ve worked for.”
“Could,” Charles agreed, “but won’t.” His hand pressed my wrist harder. “That’s why I’m going to teach her the tricks.”
Jenny sighed and followed Garrett and Anna out. There was silence for a moment in the War Room as I stared at Charles, and Charles stared back. His mouth curved into a smile.
“All right, then, Eileen,” he murmured. “Shall we begin?”
I nodded.
“Defend yourself, then,” he snapped, his eyes flashing as I suddenly felt pressure behind my eyes. I yelped and automatically gestured, my old training in battle magic resurfacing.
“Not that way, Eileen,” Charles said, looking sad for a moment. “Push me out of your mind.” A memory flashed by, of me getting dressed that morning. “Or I’ll get to see more,” he said with a wicked smile.
I focused, remembering the feeling I’d had earlier with Faolain. “Did Faolain read my mind?” I asked in horror. “The feeling was exactly like this.”
“He probably tried,” Charles acknowledged, “but one benefit of the wire—it has magic that interrupts mind-reading attempts. It’s probably how he knew you were wearing one, when his attempts didn’t work.” His eyes hardened. “You can’t rely on it. Now. Defend yourself!” I was back in my room, dressing.
“Stop,” I gasped, trying to cast another spell.
“Your magic is gone, Eileen, and Faolain won’t stop if you ask him to.” The pressure behind my eyes faded, and Charles sighed. “Y
ou have to push me out, Eileen,” he explained. “I won’t just leave.” His eyes flickered, and for a moment, it seemed there was a double meaning there. I filed it away for closer examination later.
He’s going to hurt you, Joe’s voice remarked.
He will, Sheldon agreed.
“No, I won’t,” Charles murmured. His eyes were steady on mine. I felt the pressure against my eyes again.
“Tell them to shut the hell up” Charles said. “They don’t know anything.” I hesitated. “Tell them!”
“Shut ... shut up, Joe and Sheldon,” I muttered.
“Not very convincing,” Charles said with a sigh, “But better than nothing.” His eyes flickered, and I realized he was hurt.
“Charles,” I said, reaching over and grasping his hand, “I can’t control the voices. And most of the time, they lie.”
He stared at my hand, then exhaled, moving his other hand to cover mine. “Is it time to take your medicine?” he asked, voice gravelly.
I pulled out my cell phone and glanced at the clock. “Nine thirty. Yes it is.” I grabbed the Clozaril and dry swallowed it, trying not to retch.
“You know, Eileen,” Charles remarked mildly, “you could’ve asked for water.” He pulled out a bottle and set it in front of me. I blinked and swallowed it down.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“No problem.” We were both silent for a moment. “Now,” he ordered, “push me out.” I felt the pressure behind my eyes again.
I frowned. Push him out ... I focused on the pressure, imagining it leaking out through my eyes, like teardrops.
“Almost,” Charles said, voice gravelly. “Push harder.” The pressure intensified.
I pictured, this time, a wall, like a dam, pushing back against the pressure. I pushed on the wall, making it move forward. It reminded me of the trash compactor scene in Star Wars. Slowly, the pressure began to wane.
“Good,” Charles murmured. The pressure completely vanished. “Now, you need to do it faster.” He stood abruptly and extended a hand to me. “Which we will work on tomorrow. You’ve had a long day.” Slowly, I took his hand. My head throbbed.
