Chapter 17
I slept uneasy,
guarding my dreams. The thought that Kaylin might be able to slip
in, to sense them, bothered me more than I thought it had. I wanted
something private, that was my own, and each time someone linked to
me, it took a little of my privacy away.
Early in the morning,
I woke to the sound of the owl outside my window. Wrath was
perching in the oak. I opened the window and saw that he was
carrying a note in his beak. Cautiously, I crawled out on the snow
and ice, shivering, and he flew by, dropping the paper on the roof,
then soared off to the tree line again.
I snatched up the
folded paper and headed back inside, slamming the window again. As
I unfolded the thick, papyrus-like paper, a thin spidery writing
leaped out to catch my eye. Not from the vampires, that was for
sure. The paper reeked of Fae energy. Glancing at the signature, I
saw that it was from Lainule.
It read:
Cicely, I’m going to talk to Geoffrey about these issues.Keep strong. Keep to our agreement.
Tucking it away in a
desk drawer, I stared at myself in the mirror. I looked haggard. My
wolf growled and I gently rubbed across it, sending soothing
thoughts to Grieve. Thank the gods that Anadey hadn’t been able to
complete her spell or I’d be dead.
With that thought, I
took a quick shower, dressed, and ran down the stairs. As I shot
into the kitchen, I skidded to a halt. Everybody was gathered
around the kitchen table: Rhia, Leo, Kaylin, Chatter, and Peyton.
They all looked up at me, as if expecting a thundercloud to
break.
“What? What’s going
on?”
“How are you doing?”
Rhia looked uncomfortable.
I shrugged. “Fine, I
guess. I feel a bit discombobulated, but it was probably just
Anadey’s magic. It’s different than my own.”
“Did you want to go
dreamwalking at Geoffrey’s today?” Kaylin gave me a long look,
speculative, and I realized he didn’t believe me.
With a shake of the
head, I let out a short sigh. “No, there’s too much at stake for us
to chance it right now.” Before anybody could say anything, I
turned to Peyton. “We’d better make sure the parlor and waiting
room are clean. Our ad hit the paper this morning and my guess is
that we’re going to have a busy day.”
At least, I prayed it
would be a busy day—that way I wouldn’t have time to think. I
wolfed down my breakfast, waffles and eggs and bacon, without
looking up at the others, even though I was all too aware of their
attention focused on me.
“But I thought you
needed to get the antidote as soon as possible?” Rhia asked
slowly.
“I’ve decided to
wait—just not a good idea. Leo was right.” I looked up at him, a
faint smile on my face. “It’s too dangerous.”
“The day I’m right
around you women is the day hell freezes over,” Leo said. He
glanced out the window. “And it looks like it has. I’d better get
back outside to shovel the walks again. I feel like crap, but it
has to be done.”
“Let me do it,” I
said. “I need the exercise.” Truth was, I just wanted to be alone
for a while. “Peyton, would you mind watching over the fort? Call
me if anybody comes in and I’m still on shovel
detail.”
“All right,” she
said, frowning. “Cicely . . . are you sure you’re all
right?”
I nodded, vigorously,
forcing a smile to my lips. “Yeah, I’m fine. Good breakfast. Thanks
to the cook.” As I pushed myself to my feet, I noticed Leo watching
me, a thoughtful look on his face. I engaged his stare, feeling
altogether too hostile, then turned away.
Grabbing the snow
shovel, I headed out the front door. The cold took my breath away,
but I cautiously began scraping the snow off the steps leading to
the walk, making sure to scatter rock salt to melt the underlying
ice.
Myst’s winter had hit
and hit hard. A good two feet of snow blanketed the front yard, but
where we were shoveling the walk, we’d built snow banks over three
feet high. I slid the edge of the shovel under the layer of white
and began to scoop it away. Too bad we didn’t have a damned
snowblower, I thought. I should ask Regina for one. She’d probably
buy it for us.
As I scooped
shovelful after shovelful of snow away and tossed it on the
ever-growing pile, I began to calm down. Breakfast had been
difficult, but this was no different from the scams we’d run on the
men Krystal attracted. All it came down to was playing a part. And
I’d developed into a pretty good actress over the years. I’d had to
learn—that was how I won my 1966 Pontiac GTO in a game of street
craps. Bravado and bluffing was what it was all about.
After a while, the
cold settled into a gentle numbness and I worked silently, clearing
the sidewalk. The sound of a car made me stop, and I leaned on the
shovel, watching as a long black limo eased down the cul-de-sac. It
crept toward me, and I waited, a tingling racing down my
fingertips. As the limo stopped, easing into the driveway, I caught
my breath. Myst’s people didn’t drive, as far as I knew—they hadn’t
assimilated into society that far. Or at least I thought so. And it
was daytime, so it couldn’t be the vampires.
The door opened and a
lean, wiry woman stepped out of the car. She looked yummanii, but
the sense of magic tingled around her. She was one of the
magic-born. As she swept up the sidewalk I’d just cleared, I found
myself tensing.
Watch what you say, watch what you do. Ulean’s
warning came sharp and clear.
I gave a gentle
nod.
“You are Cicely
Waters?” The woman’s voice was husky. She wore an ankle-length
dress, almost Victorian in nature but made from a warm purple
jersey. Over the top, she was wearing a white fur coat, and her
hands were swathed in ivory gloves made from brushed suede. And she
was carrying a briefcase that looked like it had been fashioned in
the early 1900s.
“Who wants to know?”
I didn’t mean to be belligerent, but her nature put me off. She had
a nosy energy about her, and my instinct was to head inside and
lock the door. But she wasn’t vampire, she wasn’t Fae . .
.
“I am not here to
play games. I’m Ysandra Petros, from the Consortium, and you’d
better answer me quickly if you have any wits about
you.”
Oh crap. The
Consortium. Had they gotten wind of
Myst? Geoffrey’s warnings came rushing back as a swell of panic
rose up. I had to get her inside. We couldn’t chance her sensing
something from the Golden Wood.
“Come in. Yes, I’m
Cicely. Please, let’s get out of the cold.” I hastened her inside
and showed her into the living room—the parlor now being a place of
business. “I’ll be right back. Would you like some tea?” Without
waiting for a yes or no, I hurried into the kitchen, yanking off my coat
and gloves and tossing them on the table. A spark of good luck:
Everybody was still gathered around the kitchen table
eating.
“Trouble with a
capital T. We have a member of the Consortium out there. Chatter,
don’t you dare come out. I’ll handle this—we have to hustle her out
before she finds out about Myst. Geoffrey warned me about the
Consortium and on this, I trust him fully.”
The color drained out
of Rhiannon’s face, and both Peyton and Leo let out little gasps.
Chatter frowned, but said nothing, and Kaylin sat there with a
smirk on his face. He slowly pushed himself to his
feet.
“I can be useful in
this matter,” he said.
“Are you insane?
You’re bound to a demon. Doesn’t the Consortium feel it necessary
to bind demons or something like that?” I stared at him, wondering
if he’d gone bonkers.
He shrugged. “Perhaps
they do, but I am not so easily read, not by magic-born and not by
yummanii. Trust me on this, as you trust Geoffrey. Tell her I’m
your husband.”
Without a clue as to
what to do, I nodded. “Then make a quick pot of tea and bring it
in, please. I offered her tea for some godawful
reason.”
I washed my hands,
then hurried back into the living room, where I found Ysandra
sitting primly in one of the chairs. She glanced up at my
entrance.
“I’m sorry. My . . .
husband“—the word rolled oddly off my tongue, but for some reason I
had the feeling Kaylin knew what he was doing—“will be in with tea
in a moment. Please, to what do we owe the honor of your
visit?”
Though her visit was
anything but an honor, there was no good way to ask her to leave
without catastrophe. I’d told Geoffrey the truth when I said I knew
about the Consortium. They were a powerful community, and one in
which I did not wish to be embroiled. But it looked like I wasn’t
going to get my wish. At least not right now.
“Heather Roland owns
this house?”
“Heather’s my aunt,
and she’s away on a sabbatical. My husband and I are staying with
my cousin, Rhiannon, who is Heather’s daughter. We’re
house-sitting.” The mixture of truth and lies rolled out one after
another, and I prayed she didn’t have a truth spell
handy.
“I see. Is Rhiannon
available? I’d like to talk to her, as well.” Ysandra blinked, and
it was obvious her request was a demand.
I cleared my throat.
“Of course; wait here, please.” I hurried back into the kitchen,
where Kaylin was finishing up the pot of tea. “She wants to see
Rhiannon as well. I told her that you and I are married and
house-sitting with Rhia, because Heather’s away on
sabbatical.”
Rhiannon, still pale,
nodded, and followed Kaylin and me back into the living room. She
motioned for us to put the tea on the coffee table and graciously
reached out to shake Ysandra’s hand.
Kaylin nodded, giving
the woman a short bow, then sat after Rhia and I positioned
ourselves on the sofa. “Miss . . . ?”
“I am Madame Ysandra
Petros. You must be Rhiannon Roland?”
Rhia nodded. “Yes,
you’ve met my cousin Cicely, and this is her . . . husband, Kaylin
Chen.”
“Ma’am,” Kaylin said,
pouring the tea. “Sugar, milk, or lemon?”
“Lemon. Thank you.”
Ysandra accepted the cup and sniffed the steaming beverage, smiling
for the first time since she’d arrived. “Tea does a body and soul
good, with the horrible weather we’ve been having.”
“What can we do for
you?” I asked, after giving her a moment to warm her hands on the
china cup.
“There have been
rumors of strange activity in this area—odd magical happenings. And
we’ve not heard from one of our members in a long time. Marta
Vekos. I stopped in at her house but nobody’s home and so I thought
I’d come over to ask Heather what’s going on.”
Ysandra seemed to
relax a little, but I knew better than to be caught off guard. She
was taking in every nuance. I could tell because she was doing
exactly what I’d trained myself to do while growing up. Uncle
Brody’s rule number fifty-four: Become hyperaware of your
environment. The skill had kept me alive more than
once.
I put on a sad face.
“Marta was killed by wild dogs a couple of months ago. At least the
police seem to think there’s a pack of wild dogs on the loose. She
left me her business. If you’d like to see what I’m doing with it,
we can go into the parlor.”
A flash of pain
echoed across the woman’s face. “Marta is dead?”
Rhiannon nodded.
“Yes, and the Thirteen Moons Society has fallen apart. She was the
heart and soul holding it together. A number of the elders moved
on. Her daughter, Anadey, and granddaughter took over her
house.”
We were dancing with
the devil, but at least we knew it.
Ysandra let out a
soft sigh. “So that’s why my summons went unanswered. Anadey has
little love for the Consortium and would not have notified us.”
After a momentary pause, she added, “Marta was a good friend of
mine. She will be sorely missed. But seeing that you inherited your
business, you are responsible for taking the appropriate actions.
All magical businesses must be registered with us, and the owner
must join the Consortium.”
Oh hell. Then I
remembered: Marta had belonged to the Consortium. Apparently, I was
also expected to become a member. What the fuck were they going to
do once they discovered I was half Cambyra Fae, and working for the
vampires?
“And what about
Mystical Eye Investigations? Do you run that, as well?” Ysandra
gave me a long look.
I slowly shook my
head. “Marta’s granddaughter does. We decided to join forces, so to
speak.”
“Then she must become
a member of the Consortium, as well. I will leave you both the
necessary forms. You must fill them out and send them in with the
appropriate fees, and then when we summon you, you must stand
before the CCC to win final approval to obtain your
licenses.”
“CCC?”
“Consortium Chamber
of Commerce. We control all magical businesses of any note. Since
Marta did not pay her quarterly tithe, the CCC sent me to find out
why. Now I know.” She opened her briefcase and took out two packets
of paper. “Here are the forms. You have one month to fill them out
and mail them back to us. We will contact you after we’ve gone over
them.”
She finished her tea
and stood, her hand shading her eyes. “I wish to pay my respects to
Marta’s daughter, but I’m pressed for time. Please convey my
sympathy. Marta . . . she and I went way back. We roomed together
at the Conservatory when we were in school.”
And right then,
Ysandra ceased to be a terror and suddenly became a very humane, if
magic-born, person to me. I looked in her eyes and saw the glimmer
of tears, and realized that everything else—all the brisk business
and nononsense part of her persona—had paled compared to losing an
old friend.
I reached out and
pressed her hand. “I’ll let her granddaughter know. We’re good
friends, and I’ll make sure she passes on the
message.”
“Marta’s daughter,
Anadey, was always sour about the Consortium. I understand she
might not want to hear from me, but my sympathies are there if she
wants them.” As Ysandra started to gather her things, she paused.
“Oh, and you’ll be starting the Society up again, of
course.”
“Say what?” I stared
at her. “Why would I do that? The Society disbanded with her
death.”
“You inherited her
business, and therefore you inherited her place as elder. Since the
Thirteen Moons Society disbanded, it’s up to you to choose up to
twelve other members and bring it back to life—with a new name, of
course. That goes with being the witch chosen to watch over any
particular village or town.”
“I’m confused. What
do you mean, chosen?”
“Marta was chosen to
lead the Society, and her business was not only to sell magical
potions and charms, but to watch over New Forest. She knew that by
choosing her successor, she would automatically pass on the
position. Usually it would be a direct lineage, but since her
daughter chose not to involve herself with the Consortium,
apparently, you were her choice. I’m surprised she didn’t choose
your aunt, but she must have had her reasons. Heather was always
Marta’s right-hand woman.”
“My aunt . .
.”
“Mother is so busy
with her studies that she had to bow out of the Society for now.”
Rhia spoke up, her voice steady and calm. “And the Society never
recognized me, so I was not a viable candidate.”
Ysandra gazed at her,
silent for a moment. “Yes, we never understood Marta’s position on
that. You will be accepted if Cicely chooses to include you in her
roster.”
And with that, she
headed toward the door, briefcase in hand. “Get me those forms as
soon as you can. I’ll be in charge of your applications, so mark
them to my attention. It was nice meeting you, and you, too,
Kaylin. You make a lovely couple. Since you’re married, you’ll have
to provide me with a copy of your marriage certificate so it can be
recorded. All partnerships by members of the Consortium are on
record, whether they be poly or monogamous.”
Before we could
respond, she swept out into the frigid air, down the steps, and her
dark sedan glided up the street again.
I stood there, gaping
at the door. “What the fuck do we do now?”
Kaylin laughed from
behind me. “Get married, I suppose.”
As we gathered back
around the kitchen table, I accepted a cup of tea from Kaylin, who
had returned the still-full pot back into the kitchen.
Rhiannon brought the
others up to speed while I gulped down the scalding drink,
supplementing it with a piece of cold toast.
“We have to keep them
from finding out about Myst, and yet we’re supposed to join their
little club?” I shook my head.
“The Consortium is no
‘little club,’” Peyton said. “And now I have to join, too? Mother’s
going to love that.”
“Your mother’s got
more problems than you becoming a member of the Consortium,” I
muttered, but I shook my head when she asked me to repeat what I’d
said. “Nothing. But we need to fill out those forms. You
don’t ignore the Consortium. Tonight,
I’d better talk to Geoffrey and tell him what’s happened. The
vampires are going to have to know.”
“Why would it be so
bad to have the magic-born on our side? Why don’t the vampires want
them to know about Myst?” Peyton asked.
I shrugged. “The
Consortium is rife with greed and so swamped in politics that it’s
likely they’d mire down any action in arguments and debates. But
they’d also try to squeeze out the vampires’ help—the magic-born
don’t tend to like the vampires as a whole. Everything would end
embroiled in turmoil and arguments. And though the Consortium is
big, don’t forget, there are one hell of a lot of vamps in the
world, and they might take umbrage at being pushed out of what they
consider their own private war.”
“Politics,
then.”
“Politics between two
very dangerous forces. I have no idea which side the yummanii would
come down on—probably the Consortium, but either way, it could get
very sticky.” I glanced over at Leo. “You’ve been awfully
quiet.”
“My sister Elise
belonged. She kept trying to get me to give up my job so I could
join the Healers’ Society, which is sanctioned by the Consortium.
There’s not a lot of love lost between them and the vampires. I
never even wanted to be a healer.”
Rhiannon jerked up
her head. “What? I thought you loved it.”
He shrugged. “I don’t
mind the healing arts, but it’s not what I signed on for. But I’ve
got the talent, so I figured I might as well learn
how.”
“What do you want to do?” She stared at him, her lip
quivering. Apparently, the healer side of him had appealed to
her.
“You want to know?
Honestly?” Leo looked at her, then at the rest of us. “I wanted to
be a cultural anthropologist and study vampires. This way, I get
the best of both worlds. I’m working for them—so I get to see their
culture in action, and yet I don’t have to give up my life to
become one of them.”
I stared at him for a
moment. He wasn’t telling the full truth, that much I could tell.
He wanted more . . . but just what, I couldn’t fathom.
Rhiannon blinked.
“What? Is that why you’re a day-runner?”
“Hell, yeah. You
thought I’d do this just for the hell of it? Too dangerous, but I
like the ability to study them up close. Someday, I hope to write a
book about my experiences, though they don’t know that.” He
grinned, then his smile faded again. “But the way things are going,
I’m not sure what to expect.”
A dark flash ran
through Rhiannon’s eyes. “Me either,” she said quietly, and I knew
she was talking about Leo and her relationship with him, as much as
she was commenting on the situation at hand.
“Peyton and I are
going to have to join the Consortium. Does that mean anybody I
choose for the new Thirteen Moons Society—or whatever we end up
calling it—will have to belong?”
“Yeah, most likely.
Though I’m not totally sure.” Rhiannon frowned. “Heather belonged.
But I think a couple of the members weren’t Consortium members.”
She shook her head. “It looks like Marta meant for you to revive
the Society. Do you think she planned all this?”
Peyton drummed her
fingers on the table. “Could be. She knew Mother would never take
over the shop. But . . . Anadey had to expect they’d be paying you
a visit . . .”
“I’m not so sure
about that. I think your mother has focused on other things besides
the comings and goings of the Consortium.” Like how to prevent your father from stealing you away
from her. Which brought us right back to the case at hand: I
had to rely on Lainule and Wrath to rescue Grieve now, without
telling the others that Anadey had damned near killed
me.
“So how do we sort
this all out?” Rhia said.
“First, Peyton and I
get these forms filled out and sent off. I guess we’d better get
serious about our businesses because we’re going to be tithing to
the Consortium. I guess Kaylin and I have to get a marriage license
somewhere, and I’ll bet they’re going to check on it to make sure
it’s real. What the fuck was with the idea of telling them we’re
married?”
Kaylin grinned. “It
kept them from asking further questions about me, didn’t
it?”
Again, the feeling I
was out of the loop on something flickered through my mind but I
knew better than to ask Kaylin what he was keeping to himself. He’d
flat-out refuse to tell me.
“Whatever you say.
After we get things in order, I’ll sit down and figure out what I
want the new Society to be like. I’m not calling it what Marta did,
though—I’m too superstitious to give it the same name. I don’t have
to add all thirteen members at once, I suppose, so we’ll start out
with . . .” I glanced at them. As much as I wasn’t sure about Leo,
I couldn’t leave him out. It would make for an uncomfortable
situation. “I guess with five—the five of us.”
“Five, for the five
points on the pentagram,” Rhiannon whispered.
“Earth, that’s Leo;
Fire, you, Rhia. Water—Peyton, you can handle that. Air, me. And
Kaylin, I guess that leaves you for Spirit—for the shadows you walk
in. We have enough to invoke the Elemental Watchers. Ulean can
guard the gates of Air. Chatter can keep watch overall.” I’d never
really worked formal magic, but it looked like I was going to
learn. And it looked like I was going to learn faster than I’d ever
imagined.
“We can do this
whatever way you want, Cicely.” Rhia shrugged. “Since you’re the
heart of the group, you call the shots.” She sent Leo a stern look,
and he paled but nodded. “Whatever you say goes.”
“I still don’t know
how the hell they’ll handle the knowledge that I’m part Cambyra
Fae. I thought only the full-blooded magic-born were allowed
memberships.” I played with the crust of my bread.
“Apparently not. They
have to know something about your background. Either that or
they’ve changed their rules. One way or another, we’ll find out.”
My cousin gave me a soulful look. “Whatever you need, we have your
back.”
“Thanks.” But in my
heart, I wondered if that was true. Were they all loyal, or was
Anadey working with one of my friends? Everybody in this room knew
that if she’d managed to neutralize my love for Grieve, it would
destroy one of us. So her spell would have killed me. If somebody
tried to help her . . . they knew they’d be party to murdering
me.
And what the hell was
I supposed to do about Kaylin, now that the Consortium thought we
were married? We couldn’t fake a license. They’d be able to check
on that without any problems. We’d have to actually get married,
pretend to be husband and wife, long enough to placate them.
Because if they found out I’d lied about that, they might discover
I’d lied about other things. Like Heather being on sabbatical, and
Marta being killed by wild dogs.
Somehow I didn’t
think the Consortium would forgive lies of omission. With these
thoughts in mind, I finished my tea, then went into the parlor to
try to focus on work.