A Sliver of Shadow (11 page)

Calm. I need calm.

The phone rang again, echoed by a frantic pounding on my front door. “I thought I said I wanted to schedule the apocalypse for midday,” I muttered, fighting the urge to slam my fist through something. Still shaking, I lurched to my feet, listening to Melanie’s panicked voice shouting over my answer machine.

I found my way to the door, snapping it open to reveal a tear-sodden Charlie holding an unconscious Benjamin in her arms, the baby’s wings sagging. “Oh, God, Abby. I took the Door here …” Her lower lip trembled.

Wordlessly I took the baby from her, my heart lurching when I saw his sagging jaw. “What’s going on? Do you know?”

“Know?” She shot me an incredulous look, her mouth dropping as she saw Talivar and Phineas sprawled out on the floor. “Oh, shit. One minute I was feeding him and everything was fine … and the next … I don’t know. He started choking. I thought it was febrile seizure or maybe an allergic reaction. Or I would have, but when he finally stopped shaking I went to find Robert.” She swallowed hard.

“He’s like them?”

Charlie nodded. “I couldn’t move him. Couldn’t figure out what to do. I tried calling you but you didn’t answer and that’s when I came over here.” Our eyes met. “You think that Fae woman had anything to do with it?”

“It doesn’t make any sense. They took Tresa into custody last night.”

“So they did.” Tresa’s voice drawled at us from the doorway. I could only watch helplessly as the elven woman strutted into my apartment, rolling her hips. “About ready to sign those Contracts now? Because if you’re not, I’m going to let them die.”

T
ouch them and I’ll fucking kill you,” I snarled, my hands gripping Benjamin tightly.

Her eyes rolled in disdain at Talivar’s prone form as she brushed into the kitchen to inspect her handiwork, high heels clicking on the hardwood. “You and what army, TouchStone?”

“This one, you bitch.” Before I could move, Charlie whipped out a black handled dagger from her pocket, the blade suddenly poised beneath the Fae’s chin. Tresa’s eyes widened as the edge touched her, but Charlie snagged the back of her head with her other hand to hold her still. A faint sizzle sounded from the tip of the blade.

Tresa whimpered. “Recognize that, don’t you?” Charlie hissed. “Pure iron, forged from a fallen star and tipped with silver.”

“Jesus, Charlie.” Impressed despite myself, I still noticed the tremble in her hands as she held the blade to Tresa’s throat. Iron could be quite deadly to the Fae, particularly in its pure form, although having a TouchStone often offset some of the effect. I didn’t have anything like that around the apartment since I lived with one and
worked for another, but I was beginning to have second thoughts.

“It was Robert’s.” Charlie’s eyes rolled wildly at me in a mixture of panic and madness. “You think I’m going to let someone hurt me again? Hurt my family?”

“Not at all.” I smiled at Tresa pleasantly. “And now that we’re on more even terms, let me just tell you that I don’t do blackmail.” I took a step closer. “What the hell did you do? And where’s Roweena?”

“And here I’d been led to believe you actually understood what you were doing. Roweena’s hopefully taking a dirt nap somewhere.” Tresa growled, her nostrils flaring when Charlie prodded her with the knife again. “I severed their connection to the CrossRoads. It’s not a permanent effect.” She nudged Talivar’s leg before meeting my eyes, her gaze glittering. “Yet.”

My brain settled into a strange calm, anger pushing away the fear once I realized they weren’t permanently injured.

Yet
…

“And you decided you’d take out the baby too? Or Moira’s former bodyguard? Villain school must teach you to be very thorough.”

“What are you talking about? The spell was only geared toward the people you’re TouchStoned to. “

I raised a brow at her, shifting the unconscious baby over my shoulder. “I’m not TouchStoned to either of them. Hell, I’m not TouchStoned to Talivar either, for that matter.”

A frown twisted Tresa’s mouth and I caught the first hint of actual alarm flash from her green-gold eyes. “You’re not?” My cell phone sang out. Quickly I dodged around the elf to get it.

“Abby? Abby!”

“I’m here, Mel.”

“Do you know what’s going on? I’m at the Hallows and
all the OtherFolk have just fucking up and passed out.” She paused. “Hell, some of them were damn near foaming at the mouth.”

“Same thing happened here,” I told her. “Hold tight and I’ll call you back. Is Brandon out too?”

“Yeah, but Katy’s here with him.”

“Good. Let me try to get to the bottom of this. If you see Roweena anywhere, let me know ASAP, okay?”

I shut my cell hard enough to shatter the buttons. “You stupid, stupid woman. What the hell was that spell you used?”

“I already told you,” she retorted, irritated. “I shut off their connection to the CrossRoads. And I added a little bit of you into the mix, as an added bonus.”

“The seizures.” Charlie stared at me, a fascinated horror in her voice. “You gave them Abby’s seizures.”

“Got me,” Tresa chuckled. “Although that part wasn’t actually intentional. Just a rather interesting side effect.”

“How long will it last?” I said softly, trying to decide if it would be worth it to try pounding her face into the floor.

Tresa bared her teeth at me. “Until you become my TouchStone. Otherwise the spell will hang on until they die.” She looked at the baby thoughtfully and then shrugged. “Though it seems like there was a bit of an overlap. Well, no matter. Merely sign the Contracts and they should be rejoined to the CrossRoads, none the worse.”

“Wonderful.” I snorted. “Except you fucked up.”

“Did I?” I thought I detected the barest undertone of doubt in her voice.

“Yeah. You just severed the connection on the CrossRoads for pretty much every OtherFolk being in the entire city of Portsmyth.”

The blood drained from her face. “I what?”

My inner bitch sang with glee at the whispered hoarseness
of the words. “I think you heard me. So good job, future Protectorate.” My brain raced with potential ways out of this mess. But first things first. “Keep an eye on her,” I said to Charlie. “I’ve got a few things to do.”

Charlie nodded at the Fae woman with the single-minded focus of a cat about to eviscerate a mouse. Carefully, I laid Benjamin on the sofa, propping him in a nest of pillows. I would have handed him to Charlie, but given her current state I didn’t want to risk it.

I stooped to pick up Phineas, stroking the top of his head. The unicorn didn’t stir beyond a light twitching in his upper lip. I couldn’t tell if he was dreaming or not. If it was a true seizure it was entirely possible that he could hear everything going on around him.

“I’m going to put you in my bed, Phin. If you can hear me, I’m heading over to the Hallows. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Gingerly I stepped around the pieces of broken glass. “What a fucking mess.” No time for any sort of cleanup now, though.

After I tucked Phineas in comfortably, I debated for a moment on how I was going to drag Talivar out of the kitchen. It seemed terribly rude to leave him in a pile of runny eggs and spilled milk, but he was a solidly built guy. No chance of me picking him up. In the end I found an extra bedspread and rolled him onto it. With a little extra effort I was able to drag him into the bedroom.

Without his Glamour, my gaze was drawn to his scarred neck and then further down his body. His shirt had torn during the seizure and I could see the marked flesh all along his left side. The same side he limped on, I realized. The white marks crisscrossed by his belly, disappearing along his hip and further still.

“No wonder you understood,” I murmured. The marks of a warrior, indeed.

I told him the same thing I’d told Phin and then scratched it out in a note for good measure before tossing on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

“You realize, of course, that Talivar will probably try to kill as you as soon as he comes to,” I snapped at Tresa as I shoved the broken crockery into a pile with my shoe.

“I thought of that. I’m not stupid, you know. And that’s why when you sign the Contract, you’ll see there’s a clause in there that forfeits your life if I am killed.”

Charlie stared at her. “That’s outrageous.”

Tresa shrugged. “It’s part of what makes me so charming.”

A thought suddenly occurred to me. “You said the spell was supposed to affect all those who were TouchStoned to me? Barring the fact that apparently nearly all the OtherFolk seem to have succumbed to it—did it ever cross your mind what would happen to Moira?”

Her eyes darted away. Was it an admission of guilt? Or something else?

“I think you’re in a lot of trouble,” I said softly, taking Benjamin into my arms and covering his shoulders with his blanket. “And I think me signing this Contract is the only way for you to escape alive. Once the Faery Court discovers what you’ve done …” I was bluffing, of course. I’d never seen the Faery Court. Hells, the closest I’d ever come to seeing even a bit of it were the Council sessions I’d been to at the Judgment Hall, and I wasn’t entirely sure if that counted.

I turned toward Charlie. “You ready to go?”

She nodded, moving the dagger a few inches. “Yeah. If she tries anything I’m going to jam this into her.”

“Fine by me.” My friend’s sudden bloodthirstiness was worrisome, but I’d deal with it later. And to be honest, I didn’t much care if Tresa got a little cut up along the way. I gestured to the Fae to move in front of us, Charlie keeping the blade covertly pointed at her back.

“Maybe we should look at using a Door to get to the Hallows?”

“Seeing as we’re holding her at knifepoint, yeah,” I said dryly. “I’m for Keystone Kops and all, but I think we’d be pushing our luck parading her down Main Street.”

Charlie grunted as we approached the gate leading out to the alley. A silver haze lit up the edges when she touched it and then faded away. She tapped the Door again, frowning when it flared up and then damped out. She did it a third time, muttering something under her breath.

“The Door isn’t responding.” Charlie adjusted her grip on the dagger. “It worked a few minutes ago.”

“What do you mean it’s not
responding
? Maybe you’re not doing it right.” Tresa shoved Charlie out of the way to stroke the gate with her own hand, watching impassively as nothing happened. Again. “I don’t understand. I had all the calculations worked out.”

“Forget to carry the one and the CrossRoads close? Remind me to stay away from Faery math.”

“No,” she said sharply. “There isn’t a spell in the world that could just shut them down like that.”

“Well,
something
did. And you’re the only one I know of who’s been dicking with it. So where does that leave us?”

She scowled at me. “Don’t be stupid. Only the Queen has full command over the CrossRoads. At least this part of it,” she amended glumly.

“And you think that’s what she’s done? Shut down the CrossRoads?” My heart sank down into the pit of my stomach at the thought.

“Yes. There can be no other explanation.”

“Awesome. Looks like we’re hoofing it.” I glared at her. “Let’s not have any funny stuff, okay?” Not that I remotely trusted her, but I suspected she wanted answers pretty damned badly. For the moment, we had that in common.

“My word on it,” she said softly as Charlie tucked the dagger up her sleeve.

The three of us booked it down the main drag of Portsmyth. It was a Friday morning and normally things would have been hopping, at least for local hole-in-the-wall eateries or Opera Alley, or the other little shops, but a pall seemed to hang over the town.

To my great relief, the Glamour over the alley to the Hallows was still standing, its spiderweb softness tangible as we walked through it, swallowed up by whatever magics were still left. Quickly, I jogged over to the door to give the passcode, my breath becoming a quiet hiss at the chaos displayed before me.

A sudden flashback from the daemon fight eight months prior overtook me and I pressed myself against the wall in response, seeing the way the bodies overlaid each other. I shook my head to clear it. There was no blood here, no daemon mercenaries out for death. Just friends and OtherFolk, passed out on the floor.

And a fair number of them at that. I spied Brandon lying in front of the bar, his head cradled in Katy’s lap, Melanie kneeling beside her. A flash of relief shone in their faces when I stepped across the threshold.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re all right Abby,” Katy half sobbed at me. “And Charlie too. And little Benjamin.”

I looked down at the baby with a grimace. “He’s like the others. When did this start?”

“About twenty minutes ago,” Melanie answered quickly. “I’d just finished up one of my all-night gigs. We were wrapping up as per usual, and then suddenly all the OtherFolk started acting … off. Like you do, right before one of your seizures.” She glanced at me. “How’s … uh … Talivar?”

I frowned at her little hesitation, wondering if she’d seen
his scars. “Back at the apartment. He’s a little scuffed up since he fell out of his chair.”