Grail of the Summer Stars (Aetherial Tales) (65 page)

“Stevie!” Fin rushed out and wrapped both arms around her. “You’re all right? Thank goodness!”

“Yep, still in one piece. Most of me, anyway.”

“They gave me your job.” Fin’s voice turned heavy with guilt. “I’m so sorry. I feel terrible.”

“Why? Don’t be daft.”

“Because I know how you loved it. I don’t want you to think I was angling for this all along. I wasn’t, truly.”

“Hey, stop that! I never thought you were—but I’ll get suspicious if you keep protesting.”

“The truth is, the trustees were
desperate
.” Fin grimaced, laughing. “They’d have you back in a heartbeat.”

“Oh.” Stevie swallowed. “That’s—” She swallowed again. “Interesting. Have you heard from Patrick?”

“I have indeed. He’s back in the UK, did you know?”

“Yes, I’ve seen him. As soon as I got back, I phoned Prof. Manifold and she told me that Patrick had already brought Daniel home safely.” Stevie felt her face relax into a happier expression. “And Frances is much better. Her house feels like a home, instead of a haunted mansion.”

“I’m so glad. Patrick’s been worried sick about you. So have I! Such a tale he told me…”

“Ah, Fin, you haven’t heard the half of it yet. I hope you’re still into tales of weird strangeness?”

“Absolutely. Can’t wait to hear every detail. So … are you coming back?”

Stevie drank in surroundings so treasured that they were part of her psyche: spotlights shining on designer jewelry, the comforting smell of the coffee shop, and the dusty ghosts of the old factory beyond. She remembered her little apartment, how content she’d been there and yet so lonely.

This had been her cocoon. How unspeakably strange it felt, to realize she’d outgrown her old life.

“I honestly don’t know. I need to have a think.” She exhaled and let herself smile again. “Actually, I came to invite you and your hubby to a party.”

*   *   *

Stonegate Manor.

Stevie, Fin and Andy walked towards the double doors, Andy having offered to drive to Cloudcroft and not drink.
Would have been nice
 … For the twentieth time, Stevie suppressed the wish that Mistangamesh were beside her. It was all right. Her default state was to be alone, and she’d made peace with the knowledge.

The party was for Rosie’s birthday, and for the spring equinox, and a general celebration that they’d made it back from the Otherworld alive. The whole village was here, judging by the number of parked cars and the noise from inside.

Rosie greeted them, beautiful with her autumn hair and silver eyes and a long, clingy, burgundy velvet dress with pointed sleeves. She led them into the great hall, which was warm from the press of people and a lively fire in the grate. Dozens of tiny lights were strung around the galleries, and the hall itself was bright with spring flowers. Daffodils and hyacinths released divine scents into the air. Sam and Lucas came to hug her. They both looked drop-dead gorgeous in dark tailored suits.

Stevie marveled at the mingling of Vaethyr and humans. Some wore exotic masks. In one of her patchwork favorites—shades of lavender and aqua with a swirling skirt, and lots of amethyst and fluorite gems to match—Stevie felt underdressed.

She and Fin soon lost each other. Stevie found herself being introduced to dozens of guests, as if she were royalty. There were Rosie’s parents, Auberon and Jessica, her older brother, Matthew, with his wife, Faith—who was also Rosie’s best friend—and a brood of honey-blond children. There were uncles and aunts, and other Vaethyr clans called Tulliver and Stagg and Lyon …
Oh good, I know Catherine Lyon, at least
, she thought. There were far too many names and faces to remember, but all of them looked warmly and shrewdly into Stevie’s eyes as if they knew her better than she knew herself.

She was one of the most ancient Aetherials, true Estalyr; one of the very First. With their deep and experienced vision, they recognized this. The knowledge that they
knew
was a shock that made her want to run and hide.

Instead she grabbed a glass of champagne and was soon quite gloriously merry.

Although she felt the ache of Mist’s absence, memories of him brought a smile to her lips. She drifted around the manor in a state of pleasure, thinking of neither past nor future.

“Enjoying yourself?” Rosie said in her ear, having tracked her to the upstairs gallery; a nice spot to watch the guests mingling below. “How does it feel to be guest of honor?”

“I don’t deserve that.”

“Oh, sure. You only saved our lives.”

“After we landed you in Albin’s clutches in the first place.”

“No, you didn’t. But you came back for us. You saved the
Gatekeeper
, no less.”

“With a lot of help. And don’t forget you saved us, too! Let’s not talk about it tonight. This is wonderful, Rosie. It feels almost like a family around me … something I never had before. It’s amazing.”

“Stevie, we are your family,” said Rosie, looking straight into her eyes. “And this is your home. I mean it.”

Sam, bringing fresh glasses of champagne, said over Rosie’s shoulder, “As long as you bear in mind the old saying ‘Be careful what you wish for.’ Stonegate has ghosts, and this family has claws. It’s all good fun, though.”

Rosie gave him a mild glare. “Honestly, Stevie, we’re not that bad.”

“So, of all the magical places you could live in the Spiral realms, you chose Vaeth?” she asked thoughtfully.

“Yes, we chose dear old Earth,” said Sam.

“Why?”

“Well, it’s home. We like it here, don’t we? And humans
desperately
need our help.” He grinned, exchanging a meaningful glance with Rosie.

“Desperately,” Rosie agreed dryly.

“Not the sort of help Rufus liked to dole out, I hope?”

Rosie looked at her in exaggerated shock. “Absolutely not. Not that we’re perfect. We’re not always … good for humans.” Her expression went shadowy. “Sometimes we’re lethal. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but … we do our best. According to Luc, we’re meant to be contradictory. Sometimes predators, sometimes bringers of blessing. Aetherials are the essence of nature.”

“That’s our excuse, anyway,” Sam put in. “You should know, we need to keep our connection with the Spiral so as not to lose our Aetherial selves and our memories. Hence peculiar rituals and celebrations at various times of year.”

“Sounds thrilling.”

“Yeah, but I have to be honest.” He gave a crooked smile. “Some of the best days of our lives have been spent doing really mundane stuff, like wandering around Birmingham.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Birmingham,” Stevie said indignantly. “I’m a poster girl for the tourist trade. Used to be, rather. Take the Jewellery Quarter: it’s a heart of gold, in a literal and intangible sense.”

“Any idea what you’d like to do next?” Rosie asked.

“As long as it doesn’t involve falling off waterfalls, skydiving, swimming, bungee jumping or leaping off cliffs—anything.”

They laughed, but this set Stevie thinking. She’d left the museum, and wasn’t sure it was wise to go back, but that didn’t mean she had to leave the Jewellery Quarter forever. There were always workshops for rent. She had skills.

She couldn’t forget the feeling of the Felixatus taking shape under her hands.

“Come on! Everyone out in the garden, now!” It was Lucas yelling over the noise and music. “It’s time for the fireworks!”

“We’ve got
fireworks
?” said Sam, one eyebrow jerking upward.

“Course,” said Rosie, taking Stevie’s hand. “Didn’t Luc tell you? He’s got a specialist firm in to set them up, cost a bloody fortune, so if we’re not out there to enjoy the show, there will be
trouble
.”

Sam raised his glass and said cheerfully, “Welcome to Stonegate, Stevie Silverwood, and best of British luck.”

*   *   *

Mistangamesh slipped through the labyrinth of the Great Gates and emerged onto the flank of a hill. Trees rustled. The wind was light with the scent of spring blossom, new growth, the pungency of peaty earth and uncurling bracken fronds. He began to head downhill, following a path through a copse, following the noise.

The lower windows of Stonegate Manor were open, spilling light and music into the night.

“Everything that Samuel Wilder said is true,” Vaidre Daima had told him. “We should have protected the Spiral, but against rogue powers like Albin and Aurata, we were defenseless. We don’t fully understand the source of their power. The nature of the Spiral itself is still a mystery to us, even though we’re part of it. What if it happens again? In times of crisis, I have proved miserably ineffective. It is time for me to step down. Time for someone stronger to take charge.

“Mistangamesh, the Spiral Court is in agreement. For the good of both Vaeth and the Otherworld, we wish you to become our new spokesperson. Style yourself leader, president, autarch—whatever you will. The Spiral needs strong protection. There will be an election process, of course, but it’s a formality, a foregone conclusion. You, the son of Poectilictis, have proved yourself the natural heir.”

Vaidre Daima’s offer had floored him.

Mist had paced around the city for what seemed days, turning over all the arguments. Strong leadership was needed, for the good of the Spiral. Mist wasn’t sure he could fill the role, but then came notions of obligation and responsibility …

It’s my duty. It’s what Poectilictis would want for me. I belong here. Even Daniel saw that. It’s time to take my place among the senior ranks. Duty, duty …

Finally, Mist had gone back to Vaidre Daima and said, “No.”

In that awful gap of indecision, he’d let Stevie slip away. He knew exactly why she’d gone, and yet—in a numb trance of grief—he’d let her go anyway. It had been utter madness. Nothing would bring back Aurata and Rufus; he accepted that. Where was the sense in mourning the past, at the expense of the present? All he knew was that if he lost Stevie, he’d lost everything.

“No?” said Vaidre Daima, his face turning dark with disbelief. “What possible reason could you have to refuse?”

“The very fact that I couldn’t make a decision proves I’m not the right person. Or rather, I have made a decision but it’s not the one you wanted. I’m sorry.” Mist smiled ruefully at him. “You’ll find someone else. What about Lawrence Wilder? Or his wife, Virginia? She’d make a far wiser leader than me.”

Maybe his choice was irresponsible, but he had human obligations too, not the least of which was the need to find gainful employment and pay back the money he owed to Dame Juliana, with interest. The thought was sheer relief. He’d had enough of high Aetherial matters. He understood at last why Rosie and Sam and so many others relished their life on Earth.

If Stevie could forgive him, or trust him … If she could still love him, after all they’d been through … If she was even here …

It was time to take a risk.

Entering through the open front door, he found the interior deserted. The great hall was dimly lit by fire embers and strings of sparkling lights. Rock music played through the sound system, and a miasma of flowers and perfume and spilled alcohol hung in the air. He followed the murmur of voices through the hall, across the living room and out through the open French doors into the back garden.

Dozens of people thronged the lawn, looking up at the sky for no obvious reason. Through the narrowest of gaps—as if the other guests were all translucent—he saw her instantly.

She was standing with Sam and Rosie near the front of the crowd. Her back was to him, her hair a curtain of amber over the long blue and lilac flare of her dress. He wove between the other guests, approaching so quietly that she didn’t look round; didn’t even sense his aura.

He had so much to say that he was shaking. In the end he said nothing at all.

Instead he slipped his arms gently around her waist from behind. She started; he felt her stiffen with a wave of astonishment and heat.

And then she went pliant in his arms. She leaned into him, her body softening, her hands folding over his. He rested his chin on her shoulder, and she turned her head until they found each other’s lips. With a deep, profound sigh of bliss she gave her answer.

Together they watched fireworks exploding above Stonegate in showers of ecstatic white stars: an echo of the Felynx souls returning to the Spiral. Returning home.

Coda
Gifts and Mysteries

“I wanted to see if this place was real,” said Mist.

“The Avenue of Beautiful Secrets,” Stevie responded, looking up at the tiled roofs and empty windows. They walked hand in hand along the eerie street. The sounds of lapping water, boats and voices from unseen canals were distant and echoey. The houses had an antiquated grandeur, typical of the surface-world Venetian streets they’d followed to find their way here, but the atmosphere and tints were all of the Dusklands. Greyish violets and dusky blues, touches of luminous gold.

Sometimes an elemental would brush past, making her shiver. Blurred faces appeared in windows and vanished again.

“Do you think we’re welcome here?” she said, very softly. “Would this be a peaceful place to while away several hundred years in astral form?”

“Not for me.” Mist’s hand tightened on hers. “If these Aetherials feel at home here, I’m pleased for them. But I had so many dreams about this place, as if Aurata was trapped here … It feels just as nightmarish in reality. I can hardly believe it’s real.”

“Perhaps we shouldn’t have come,” she said. “We can turn around now, if you’re not comfortable. We could be sitting outside a little café watching the gondolas glide by. I’m dying for some ice cream, and I don’t think this is the best place to find any, do you?”

He smiled. “True, but I have to go through with this. I’m all right, Stevie. I’d rather not be here, either, but I
had
to see for myself. I think this is her house…”

They looked up at a once-grand mansion with flaking creamy-grey walls and timeworn decoration of lapis and gold around the windows. Mist pushed the tall front door. Unlocked, it swung open to his touch.