Chapter 17

“Are you sure this is the best idea?” Caleb asked after he, Holly, and I signed in on both sides of the door in the VIP room of the Bloom.

“Unless you have contacts that can help identify the bogeymen who crashed the wedding, yeah, it’s the best plan I can come up with.”

Caleb and Holly exchanged frowns. In truth, Caleb’s concern worried me. He was my go-to resource for all things fae. I didn’t know how old he was—it was impolite to ask—but he’d been around a while and he understood fae politics a whole lot better than I did.

“If you could give me a couple weeks, I’m sure we could track down someone who knows,” he said, but followed the comment with a sigh. “I know, you don’t have weeks. Damn, Al, I wished we’d realized earlier that you are fae enough to fade.”

So did I. But we hadn’t, and now time was of the essence. “You two go find a table, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Again, a concerned glance passed between them, but Holly nodded. “We’ll keep an eye on you,” she said, offering what I’m sure was supposed to be an encouraging smile, but it came out too feeble to be very reassuring.

Still, I nodded and headed for the long bar at the far side of the room.

Today’s bartender was an enormous cyclops. The pint glass he was wiping as I approached looked like a thimble in his huge hands. He had a row of horns running down his bare scalp, like a boney Mohawk.

“Uh, hi. I need to send a couple messages,” I said, trying to meet his gaze, but it was hard to figure out how to properly focus on his single red-irised eye.

The cyclops grunted and grabbed something from under the bar. The meaty hand swung out in front of me and I fought the urge to cringe away. He opened his hand and an honest-to-goodness quill floated onto the bar top, followed by a handful of dried leaves.

I nodded my appreciation and scooped up the items. Then I scurried to the other side of the bar, farther from the silent mountain of a bartender.

The first message I scratched on one of the leaves was to Rianna. It said simply that I had a lead to follow and for her and Ms. B to remain in Faerie and contact me if things got too bad. It was a simple message, but scratching it out with the quill still took a while. Once I was finished, I crumbled the leaf. It was so dry, it turned into powder in my hand. I didn’t know how the messages worked, but I’d sent Rianna several over the last few months and the magic always ensured the messages made it to the intended party in Faerie.

Faerie magic—maybe one day I’d understand it.

The next leaf I addressed to Dugan, the prince of the shadow court. I hesitated, quill poised over the leaf. I’d been debating how to word this missive since I got the idea while talking to John, but the exact wording was elusive. Dugan believed he was my betrothed, so asking to meet with him shouldn’t be that hard, theoretically, but he was also heir to the shadow throne. The whole Faerie royalty thing was daunting.

Finally I just scratched down a quick message stating that I was at the Bloom and asking him to meet me. I was about to crumble the leaf when it occurred to me that it would probably be polite to mention something about the bouquet he’d sent. I scratched out I got the roses. They are but then I paused, tapping the leaf with the quill. Finally I finished with pretty, which sounded rather pathetic, but I’d already written it. Signing the letter, I crumbled it to dust and let the particles float away.

Just one letter left, but it was arguably the hardest. The last leaf I addressed to Kyran, usurper kingling of the nightmare realm. I’d met him only once, months ago, and he was . . . different. I had no real tie to him, and there was no reason beyond his own curiosity that he would agree to meet with me. Hopefully that was enough. As with my letter to Dugan, I wrote that I would be having dinner at the Bloom and asked him to meet me. Then I signed and crumbled the leaf. That done, I returned the quill and extra leaves to the cyclops before making a hasty retreat to the table where Holly and Caleb sat.

The table had already been laid, full of golden loaves of corn bread, pitchers of what I could only guess was ale, and bowls of stew brimming with large chunks of meat, potatoes, and veggies. It wasn’t quite as grand a meal as I was accustomed to at the Bloom, but meals were served based on perceived rank, and neither Caleb nor Holly had much in the way of rank in Faerie. The waiters always laid out a feast when I was the first to the table. Honestly, it was awkward, and I was happy for the hearty stew.

I sat down, helping myself to a generous portion of corn bread. Today’s waiter, a fae I couldn’t name the family of with an iridescent purplish tinge to his skin, hurried over with another bowl of soup and a tankard in his hands, but stopped short a few paces away.

“I’ll bring something more suitable,” he said, starting to turn.

I held up a hand. “The stew looks great.”

The fae waiter looked down at the bowl on his tray before pointing his three-fingered hand back over his shoulder. “It would only take me a moment to—”

“I’d like the stew,” I said, cutting him off before he could scurry away. Holly pressed a hand over her mouth, and I got the distinct impression she was hiding a smile under her fingers.

The waiter wavered, glancing toward the kitchen—or whatever they called the area where food was prepared. It certainly wasn’t cooked, and actually, it was a little questionable if it was food or not. Faerie food was both real and not real. I wasn’t completely sure what it started out as, but if you tried to remove it from Faerie, it turned into toadstools, which quickly rotted away. But inside Faerie it was tasty and filling.

For a moment I thought I was going to have to either let the waiter retrieve a feast or cause a scene by demanding he leave the stew, but after one more uncertain look over his shoulder, he conceded to setting the bowl on the table. He bowed as he did so, placing the tankard of ale beside the bowl.

I had the urge to groan, but restrained myself, instead giving him a tight-lipped smile. Still bent in half, he backed away three steps before turning and hightailing it away.

Now Holly did laugh. “Perhaps we should call you ‘Your highness.’”

I tossed a piece of corn bread at her, which only made her giggle harder. I turned to Caleb. “Any way to make the fae here not react that way again? What gives; it didn’t seem this bad the last time I was here.”

Caleb just shrugged. “Your fae mien is more obvious these days, and your glamour leaves something to be desired.”

As in I didn’t have any glamour—not any I knew how to use properly at least. I had to work on that.

“Sleagh Maith don’t socialize with us lowly independents much,” Caleb said, scooping a large chunk of meat onto his spoon.

“So I’m descended from pretentious assholes, gotcha.” I sighed again, and then forced myself to focus on the stew, which was delicious but I was eating mindlessly. I might as well enjoy it. I didn’t eat Faerie food that often. Until recently I hadn’t realized I could. But it posed no threat to me.

I’d polished off half my bowl when the waiter scurried over. I was honestly worried that he might try to whisk away the remainder of my soup and insist I let him lay out a banquet or something, but he just bowed and held out two large leaves.

I accepted them gingerly, so I didn’t crush them, and almost thanked the waiter—some habits die hard. I stopped myself at the last moment, nodding at him instead. He hurried away, looking relieved to escape our table.

“What’s that?” Holly asked, leaning forward to peer at the leaves.

“Replies, I guess.”

I read the first leaf. It was from Rianna, and the message was the same as her last. It read only Hurry.

“I’m trying,” I mumbled under my breath, crumbling the leaf.

The second reply was from Dugan. It was considerably longer.

While I would grant my betrothed any wish her heart desires, the location you have chosen is problematic. I do not have leave to pass freely through winter’s court. Meet me instead in the pocket space where we saw each other before. I will await you with great anticipation.

–Dugan

The pocket space from before? Great. Now I was going to have to see my father.

•   •   •

As the time spent inside the Bloom had little effect on the amount of time that passed in mortal reality, I put off leaving as long as possible, nursing my soup until Holly and Caleb threatened to leave without me. As I hadn’t driven, and it was after dark, that wasn’t an option I relished. Still, I was also waiting for one more reply, but if Kyran received my message, he didn’t write me back or meet me in the Bloom. The other issue was with the leaving of the Bloom in general. I felt pretty good during dinner, but I knew the effects of fading would crash back down on me the moment I stepped out the door.

At least I was prepared for it this time, though I should have warned Caleb and Holly. I’d mentioned I was fading, but their concern as I all but stumbled down the front stairs of the Bloom made me feel even worse. I really needed to cement my tie to Faerie.

I could join a court, a little voice said in the back of my mind. I was going to see the prince of the shadow court, after all. He’d surely have no qualms against taking me home to his court. But then who knew when I’d see my friends, my life, or hell, even the mortal realm, again. The shadow court had no natural doors to mortal reality. I’d be stuck in Faerie—and I was damn near powerless in Faerie.

The idea did not appeal to me. Besides, with Falin busy fighting the queen’s duels, I was the only one with ties to both Faerie and the mortal realm searching for the alchemist, and he had to be found before more Glitter hit the street.

I called my father while Caleb drove. He answered on the second ring.

“Alexis, since you’ve deigned to call me, should I assume this is an emergency?” His voice was flat, bored sounding, so I wasn’t sure if he was trying to make me feel guilty—hey, he cut me out of his life first—or if he honestly didn’t care one way or another.

“No emergency, but I need a ride to your house.”

As I spoke, I caught Caleb’s eyes flicker toward me in the rearview mirror. The look seemed to question why I hadn’t asked him for a ride. We were in the car already. I shot him an apologetic smile, but I didn’t explain. In truth, I’d considered having Caleb drop me off, but that came with its own slew of problems, the least of which was that I’d eventually need a ride back home, and closer to the top of the list: the fact that my father was currently the acting governor of Nekros whom no one knew I was related to. Oh yeah, and he was pretty much considered the biggest public enemy in Nekros to witches and fae. My life was complicated.

My father said nothing for several moments. I imagined him sitting on the other side of the phone, fingers steepled as he waited for me to say more. I didn’t, not yet.

“Alexis, you do realize the hour, do you not?”

I hadn’t checked. It was after nine when we’d tossed rice at the newlyweds and Tamara and Ethan had driven away in a car Holly and I had decked out with the tackiest JUST MARRIED signs we could come up with. Caleb, Holly, and I had headed directly to the Bloom after that, as Holly hadn’t eaten at all today to ensure a tricky door didn’t cause her to miss Tamara’s wedding. Typically no time at all passed while inside the Bloom, but occasionally hours or even days slipped away. The latter had only happened to me once, thankfully, and that was before I’d known the importance of signing the ledger. Still, I was guessing at best it was about ten, and at worst sometime after midnight. Yeah, probably a little late for a visit, but it was what it was.

So, I played the one card I had that I was sure would work. “I’m scheduled to meet Dugan.”

“And you didn’t lead with that because . . . ?”

Because it was my business and I didn’t want him to get any ideas about his whole breeding program plan for me. Not that I’d had any illusion that I’d have been able to get to the pocket of Faerie and meet with Dugan without him finding out.

When I didn’t answer, my father said, “I can pick you up in thirty minutes.” Then he disconnected without saying good-bye.

•   •   •

It took my father only twenty minutes to reach the house. I had enough time to change out of the bridesmaid dress, but I was still walking PC when he arrived, his fancy Lamborghini glamoured to look like a much more mundane sedan. Good move—the sports car would have stood out in our neighborhood. I mean, the Glen, or Witch’s Glen as it was often called, was a nice area, but it wasn’t that nice.

He idled as he pulled up to the curb, and then leaned over and popped open the door. “Get in.”

I glanced from the open door to my little six-pound Chinese Crested. PC had visited Faerie with me once because I hadn’t had any other choice at the time. Neither the dog nor I wanted him to go on a repeat adventure, so I took him back upstairs first.

Forty minutes later, I was standing outside the invisible line where Casey’s circle had once stood that now marked the boundary between normal, mortal reality and the chaotic space where I’d lost control of my magic and permanently woven Faerie into this small fold of space. My father watched me, his glamour down so the fae face that looked not too much older than me studied me.

“Did you need a chaperone?”

I frowned, but then, I guess I was lingering in doorways. “No. I’d prefer to go alone.” Or, at least I thought I would. I was off to see a Faerie prince—the prince of shadows and secrets at that. Was it safe to go alone?

Was it any safer to take my father?

Without another glance at him, I stepped through the doorway and across the circle line. The change was immediate. My eyesight sharpened, the air turned sweeter, as if perfumed by unseen flowers, and distant music played just at the edge of my hearing. It was annoyingly comforting. Faerie, as scary as it was, felt like home.

It scared me because I enjoyed it.

Shrugging off the feeling, I walked across the room, dodging the dead zones that looked washed out and decayed. Those were the places my magic had dragged the land of the dead into this reality. If I stepped through one, my very clothing would rot off. This meeting was going to be awkward enough without me showing up in tatters.

A lone figure stood by the stone bench in the center of the room, his back toward me. He cut an impressive figure, and really did look like a prince out of an old tale. His dark hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck so it fell in a straight line down the center of his back. He wore a red cape over his black oiled armor, the material swishing around his calves as he turned to face me.

He smiled, and it was a handsome smile, but there was no warmth to it, no sincerity. “I brought you these.” He held out yet another bouquet of roses, this time the black intermixed with deep red.

“Uh . . .” I accepted the roses, feeling more than a little awkward. How did fae manage to interact without insincere thank-yous? Finally I said, “They’re lovely.”

Then I had to figure out what to do with the enormous bouquet. I had no interest in holding it the entire conversation. I settled for setting it down on the bench.

Dugan looked from me to the flowers and back. The fake smile slipped, ever so slightly, but he stepped forward, capturing my hand in his. I think, perhaps, he’d meant to lock our fingers, but he paused as he caught sight of my palm.

I jerked my hand away, but not fast enough. I always remembered to put my gloves on before I entered the Bloom, but I’d been so preoccupied, I hadn’t even thought about it before entering this small pocket of Faerie.

“You wear the blood of your enemies,” he said, his voice betraying what sounded a lot like impressed amazement. Which wasn’t what I was expecting. Faerie took the phrase their blood on your hands very seriously and most fae reacted with fear or revulsion. His gaze moved to where I’d pulled gloves from my purse and he frowned. “Why do you try to hide it?” He reached out and took the gloves. “That is not the way of the shadow court. We wear our blood with honor.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly proud of it.” And I wasn’t a member of the shadow court. Not yet at least. Hopefully not ever.

Dugan didn’t give me back my gloves. “Was the kill disgraceful or unrighteous?”

I thought back to the fight that had earned me the blood on my hands, or at least, the first blood on my hands. It had happened in this very room, on the night I’d learned I was a planeweaver and I’d first merged the planes. But I’d more than just killed the body of my enemy that night. I’d consumed his very soul in my attempt to stop him. I shivered.

“This isn’t what I asked you here to discuss,” I said, trying not to look at the spot where Casey’s bed had been. Where I’d almost died under the Blood Moon.

“Of course. The planebender awaits us whenever you’d like to travel to our court.” He pointed to a far corner. I hadn’t even noticed the small cloaked figure at the back of the room. Good thing he hadn’t been an enemy intending me harm. “I thought you’d bring more with you. It will be . . . complicated to return.”

“Wait. You thought I—” I cut myself off. Had he really thought a bouquet or two of flowers would convince me to marry him? To run off and join his court? Yeah, no. Not happening. I shook my head. “I’m not going to Faerie,” I said, but when his frown deepened I added, “Today, at least. I just wanted to ask you some questions about the shadow court.”

He studied me for a long moment before nodding. “That is a reasonable request. You did not grow up in our lands. You likely have many questions.”

He motioned me to sit on the bench, and then joined me. While his smile might look less than genuine, his expression was earnest. He wanted to convince me to join his court—and take his hand in marriage—and he’d answer my questions if that would help. I got the distinct impression that his betrothal to me was the only reason he was the named heir and prince to the shadow throne. If I reneged on the agreement my father had made, what would happen to him? It didn’t matter. Even if he was a decent guy, I wasn’t marrying him just because my father approved of his bloodline. Hell, I wasn’t sure I’d ever marry anyone. That fact wouldn’t stop me from pumping as much information out of Dugan as possible though.

Now to find a way to word my questions that wouldn’t offend him or cause him to cut me off. “What types of fae are members of the shadow court?”

His brow crinkled. Not confusion, more like bafflement that I’d ask such a stupid question. “Like any court, all types of fae make up our kingdom. The nobles are of course Sleagh Maith, though admittedly, we have fewer than we once did . . .”

“Because you lost some power when the realm of nightmares was severed from the court?”

Again, I’d surprised him, but he didn’t look displeased that I knew this fact. “Quite so. With no physical doors like the seasonal courts, the shadow court and the light court rely directly on mortal imaginations. The shadow primarily through mortal’s dreams and nightmares and light primarily through mortal creativity and flights of fancy, daydreams. Without the realm of dreams we are . . . weaker than we should be.”

It sounded more like they’d been forcibly crippled, but I didn’t point that out.

“Hopefully that will be repaired soon and we will be returned to our former glory.”

Interesting. I wanted to ask how, but we were getting off topic. Faeries were notoriously secretive. While I had him talking, I needed to keep this conversation on point.

“Are there many bogeymen in the shadow court?”

He nodded. “We tend to be an ideal court for those who like to lurk in darkness.”

Which was exactly what I’d been expecting. Now for the tricky part. “If I described two bogeymen to you, do you think you’d be able to tell me if they are part of your court?”

“Perhaps,” Dugan said, but the suspicion was clear in the tightness of his eyes, the thinning line of his mouth. “Why?”

Moment of truth. If I refused to tell him why I wanted to know, he’d likely end this conversation here and now. But if I told him too much? I didn’t know. The Winter Queen was more than willing to drag me to Faerie against my will if she could claim it was for my own protection. I had some value to the shadow court and clearly to Dugan in particular. If he knew two fae had tried to kill or capture me, would he summon the planebender and haul me off to the dark halls of his court?

“I . . . had an encounter today with what I believe were two bogeymen. One was a hobgoblin. The other, well, I’m not sure what type of fae she was. She looked like a much scarier version of a nature spirit.”

Dugan’s eyes widened, his gaze searching my face. I worked hard at keeping my face neutrally pleasant, studying him right back, looking for some sign he might grab me and try to force me to his court. An array of small micro expressions swarmed over his face, but I didn’t know him well enough to read them. Finally he seemed to come to some conclusion and held up his hand, palm toward me so I could see the blood gathered there.

“My oath, neither your uncle nor I sent any of our people to harm or threaten you. I know nothing of this encounter.”

Great, he’d jumped to defensive. “I never said you did. I’m just trying to identify them. If I describe them, do you think you’ll recognize them?”

He frowned at me. “Perhaps, but I make no promises. I may only be able to guess what manner of fae they are and not be able to name the individuals themselves.”

That was better than nothing. Certainly more than I had now.

I described the woman first, detailing everything I could remember from her height to her strange sludge-and-algae-filled hair to her green pointed teeth. By the time I finished, Dugan’s features had darkened, his jaw clenched, but he motioned for me to continue. I described the hobgoblin next with his peculiar dripping hat and overwide features, and even the blowpipe he’d used that had resembled a hollowed bone.

Dugan stood and paced before the stone bench, one hand clasped on the sword hilt at his side. “What manner of encounter did you have with these two?”

“They crashed my friend’s wedding.” I left out the fact they’d taken a shot at me.

“I must speak to the king about this,” he said, turning to where the planeweaver waited.

I jumped to my feet. “Do you know them? Do you know their court? Their names?”

“Names do not have the power told of in the old legends, little planeweaver.”

No, maybe not, but a name would at least give me more information for my investigation. It would make researching the pair easier and questioning people more targeted. I stood there, my arms crossed, my expression expectant. I wasn’t going to say please and indebt myself to him—I doubted I could afford whatever favor he would claim if I did—but I needed this information.

He pursed his lips, one hand still on his weapon, but after a moment he said, “I cannot be certain, but most of the bogeymen are rather unique. The belief in the tales told of them reshapes them until they are unlike others of their kind. So, my guesses are likely good. It sounds like the woman is a hag known as Jenny Greenteeth, who once gobbled up small children who ventured where they shouldn’t. The other a hobgoblin name Tommy Rawhead who hid under stairways and ate naughty children. They were both once part of our court, but left after our influence began to wane. I do not know who holds their allegiance now. If you ‘encounter’ them again, I suggest you stay away. They are of a nasty sort and I do not wish to see you harmed. Now, I must return to my court. I hope that you will meet me here again.” He gave me a small bow, and with a twirl of his cape strode across the room toward the planebender, who’d already opened a darkened hole of a doorway. Both vanished a moment later.

Well, at least I had names to work with. Now to track down a couple of bogeymen who liked to eat kids. Yikes.