Changes (11 page)

I swallowed. I’d heard many variants on my dog’s snarl. This one wasn’t as threatening as it might have been—as it
would
be, in the presence of dark threats. His body posture was a balance of tension and relaxation, simple wariness rather than the fighting crouch he had exhibited before. He’d smelled something that he thought was extremely dangerous, but not necessarily something that had to be immediately attacked and destroyed.

Slowly, I went down the steps, shield at the ready, my left hand extended before me, my fingers in a warding gesture, my thumb, pinkie, and index fingers stiff and spread wide apart, center fingers folded. My right hand held the blasting rod extended before me, seething scarlet power boiling out from the carved runes and the tendril of bright flame at its tip, simultaneously ready to destroy and lighting my way. Mouse came down the stairs with me, his shoulder against my right hip. His growl was a steady tone, like the engine of a well-tuned car.

I came down the stairs and saw that there was a fire crackling in the fireplace. Between that and my blasting rod and the stray bits of afternoon sunlight, I could see fairly well.

The FBI could have done worse to my apartment, I supposed. Books had been taken off my bookshelves, but at least they had been stacked in piles, more or less, rather than tossed on the floor. They’d moved my furniture around, including taking the cushions off, but they’d put them back. Incorrectly, but they were back. Similarly, my kitchen had been dismantled with a kind of cursory courtesy, but not destroyed.

All of that was secondary in my mind, next to the pair of coffin-sized cocoons of what looked like green silk. One of the cocoons was stuck to my ceiling, the other to the wall beside the fireplace. Susan’s face protruded from the second cocoon, sagging in something near unconsciousness, her dark hair hanging limply. On the ceiling, I could see only a man’s mouth and part of his chin, but I was pretty sure it was Martin. They’d come back to my apartment, presumably after the feds left, and been captured.

“Mouse,” I murmured. “You smell any cordite?”

The dog shook his head as if to shed it of water, and his tags jingled.

“Me neither,” I said. So. Whatever had been done to them, it had happened fast, before an extremely quick Susan or an extremely paranoid Martin could employ a weapon.

One of my old recliners was faced away from the door. As I stepped across the threshold, it spun around (completely ignoring the fact that it was neither meant to spin nor mounted on any kind of mechanism that would make such a thing possible) and revealed, in firelight and shadow, an intruder and my cat.

She was tall and beyond beautiful—like most of the Sidhe are. Her skin was fair and flawless, her eyes enormous, slightly oblique orbs of emerald green. In fact, they almost mirrored Mister’s eyes as he sat primly in the Sidhe woman’s lap. Her lips were full and very red, and her long red hair, accented with streaks of pure white, spilled down in silken coils and waves over her dress of emerald green.

When she saw me she smiled, widely, and it revealed neatly pointed canine teeth, both dainty and predatory. “Ah,” she said warmly. “Harry. It’s been such a long time since we’ve spoken.”

I shivered and kept my blasting rod trained on the Sidhe woman. She was a faerie, and I’d learned, from long experience, that the folk of Faerie, Summer and Winter alike, were not to be underestimated. Only a fool would trust them—but on the other hand, only a madman would offend them. They set great store by the forms of courtesy, etiquette, and the relationship of guest to host. One flouted the proper forms at peril of . . . rather extreme reactions from the Sidhe, the lords of Faerie.

So instead of opening up with fire and hoping I got in a sucker punch, I lowered my blasting rod, gave the Leanansidhe a precise, shallow bow without ever taking my eyes off of her, and said, “Indeed. It’s been a while, Godmother.”

15

“Aren’t you pleased with me?” the Leanansidhe said. She gestured with one manicured hand to the two cocoons, then went back to caressing Mister. “I came upon these brigands ransacking your little cave and . . . What is the word?” Her smile widened. “I apprehended them.”

“I see,” I said.

“As I understand mortal business,” she said, “next there is a trial, followed by . . . What is the word mortal law uses for murder? Ah, an
execution
.” Her red-gold brows furrowed briefly. “Or is it execution and
then
trial?” She shrugged. “La. It seems largely a matter of semantics in any case. Harry, would you prefer to be the judge, the jury, or the executioner?”

I . . . just stared.

The last time I’d seen my faerie godmother, she had been ranting and raving in a couple of distinct personalities and voices while half-entombed in a sheet of ice at the heart of the Winter Court. Since I was sixteen, she’d pursued me relentlessly whenever I crossed into the Nevernever, apparently determined to transform me into one of her hounds.

For crying out loud. Now she was all smiles and bubbles? Protecting my apartment? Offering to play courtroom with me, as if I were a child and Martin and Susan were a pair of dolls?

“It isn’t that I don’t like to see you, Lea,” I said. “But I can’t help but wonder what it is you want.”

“Merely to ensure the well-being of your spiritual self,” she replied. “That is what a godmother is supposed to do, is it not?”

“I was sort of hoping your answer would be a bit more specific.”

She let out a musical laugh that rang like distant church bells over snow. “Sweet child. Have you learned nothing of the fae?”

“Does anyone, ever?”

Her slender fingers stroked Mister’s fur. “Do you think it so impossible?”

“Don’t
you
think it is?”

“In what way is my opinion relevant to the truth?”

“Are we going to stand around here all day answering each other’s questions with questions?”

Her smile widened. “Would you like that?”

I lifted a hand, capitulating.

She inclined her head to me, a gracious victor. Lea was better at that sort of wordplay than me, having had several centuries to practice.

Besides, losing to the guest with grace was a traditional courtesy, as well.

“What I would like,” I said, nodding toward the cocoons, “is for you to please release these two. They aren’t robbers. They’re guests. And this is, after all, my home.”

“Of course, child,” she said agreeably. “No harm done.” She snapped her fingers and the cocoons seemed to sublimate into a fine green mist that quickly dispersed. Susan fell limply from the wall, but I was waiting to catch her and lower her gently to the floor.

Martin plummeted from the ceiling and landed on a threadbare throw rug covering the concrete floor. Nobody was there to catch him, which was awful. Just awful.

I examined Susan quickly. She had no obvious wounds. She was breathing. She had a pulse. And that was pretty much the length and breadth of my medical knowledge. I checked Martin, too, but was disappointed. He was in the same condition as Susan.

I looked up at my godmother. Mister was sprawled in her lap on his back, luxuriating as she traced her long nails over his chest and tummy. His purr throbbed continuously through the room. “What did you do to them?”

“I lulled their predator spirit to sleep,” she said calmly. “Poor lambs. They didn’t realize how much strength they drew from it. Mayhap this will prove a useful lesson.”

I frowned at that. “You mean . . . the vampire part of them?”

“Of course.”

I sat there for a moment, stunned.

If the vampire infection within half vampires like Susan and Martin could be enchanted to sleep, then it was presumably possible to do other things to it as well. Suppress it, maybe permanently.

It might even be possible to destroy it.

I felt a door in my mind open upon a hope I had shut away a long time ago.

Maybe I could save them both.

“I . . .” I shook my head. “I searched for a way to . . . I spent more than a . . .” I shook my head harder. “I spent more than a
year
trying to find a way to . . .” I looked at my godmother. “How? How did you do it?”

She looked back at me, her lips curled into something that wasn’t precisely a smile. “Oh, sweet child. Information of that sort is treasure indeed. What have you to trade for such a precious gem of knowledge?”

I clenched my teeth. “It’s always about bargains with you, isn’t it.”

“Of course, child. But I always live up to my end. Hence, my protection of you.”

“Protection?” I demanded. “You spent most of a couple of decades trying to turn me into a dog!”

“Only when you strayed out of the mortal world,” she said, as if baffled at why I would be upset. “Child, we had a bargain. And you had not willingly provided your portion of it.” She smiled widely at Mouse. “And dogs are so charming.”

Mouse watched her with calm, wary eyes, his body motionless.

I frowned. “But . . . you sold my debt to Mab.”

“Precisely. At an excellent price, I might add. So now, all that remains twixt thou and I is your mother’s bargain. Unless you would prefer to enter another compact, of course . . .”

I shuddered. “No, thank you.” I finally lowered my shields. The Leanansidhe beamed at me. “I saw you in Mab’s tower,” I said.

Something dark flickered through her emerald eyes, and she turned her face slightly away from me. “Indeed,” she said quietly. “You saw what it means for my queen to heal an affliction.”

“What affliction?”

“A madness had beset me,” she whispered. “Robbed me of myself. Treacherous gifts . . .” She shook her head. “I can think on it no more, lest it make me vulnerable once again. Suffice to say that I am much better now.” She stroked a fingertip over an icy white streak in her hair. “The strength of my queen prevailed, and my mind is mine own.”

“Ensuring the well-being of my spiritual self,” I murmured. Then I blinked. “The garden, the one on the other side of this place . . . It’s
yours
.”

“Indeed, child,” she said. “Did you not think it strange that in your turmoil-strewn time here none of your foes—not
one
—ever sought to enter from the other side? Never sent a spirit given form directly into your bed, your shower, your refrigerator? Never poured a basket of asps into your closet so that they sought refuge in your shoes, your boots, the pockets of your clothing?” She shook her head. “Sweet, sweet child. Had you walked much farther, you would have seen the mound of bones of all the things that have attempted to reach you, and which I have destroyed.”

“Yeah, well. I nearly wound up there myself.”

“La,” she said, smiling. “My guardians were created to attack any intruder—including one that looked like you. We couldn’t have some clever shapeshifter slipping by, now, could we?” She sighed. “You took a terrible toll on my primroses. Honestly, child, there
are
elements other than fire, you know. You really ought to diversify. Now I have two gaping maws to feed instead of one.”

“I’ll . . . be more careful next time,” I said.

“I should appreciate such a thing.” She studied me quietly. “It has been true for your entire lifetime, child. I have followed you in the spirit world. Created guardians and defenses ’pon the other side to ward your sleep, to stand sentinel over your home. And you still have only the beginnings of an idea of how many have tried.” She smiled, showing her delicately pointed canine teeth again. “Tried, and failed.”

Which also explained how she was
always
near at hand whenever I had entered the Nevernever. How she would be upon my trail in seconds whenever I went in.

Because she had been there, protecting me.

From everything but herself.

“Now, then,” she said, her tone businesslike. “You left a considerable trove of equipment in my garden for safekeeping.”

“It was an emergency.”

“I had assumed that,” she said. “I will, of course, safeguard it or return it, as you wish. And, should you perish, I will deliver it to an heir of your designation.”

I let out a weary laugh. “You . . . Of course you will.” I eyed Mouse. “What do you think, boy?”

Mouse looked at me, and then at Lea. Then he sat down—but still kept watching her carefully.

“Yeah,” I said. “I think that, too.”

The Leanansidhe smiled widely. “It is good that you have taken my lessons to heart, child. It is a cold and uncaring universe we live in. Only with strength of body and mind can you hope to control your own fate. Be wary of everyone. Even your protector.”

I sat there for a moment, thinking.

My mother had prepared protection for me with considerable foresight. She had anticipated my eventually looking for and finding my half brother, Thomas. Had she prepared other things for me, as well? Things I hadn’t yet guessed at?

How would I pass on a legacy to my child if I knew that I wasn’t going to be alive to see it happen? What kind of legacy did I have, other than a collection of magical gear that anyone could probably accumulate without help, in time?

My only real treasure was knowledge.

Ye gods and little fishes, but knowledge was a dangerous legacy. I imagined what might have happened if, at the age of fifteen, I had learned aspects of magic that had not come to me on their own until I was over thirty. It would have been like handing a child a cocked and loaded gun.

A safety mechanism was needed—something that would prevent the child from attaining said store of knowledge until she was mature enough to handle it wisely. Something simple, but telling, for a child. A
wizard
child.

I smiled. Something like being able to admit one’s own ignorance. Expressed in the simplest possible form: asking a question. And, as I now knew, my mother had not been called “LeFay” for nothing.

“Godmother,” I asked calmly. “Did my mother leave anything for you to give me when I was ready for it? A book? A map?”

Lea took a very slow, deep breath, her eyes luminous. “Well,” she murmured. “Well, well, well.”

“She did, didn’t she.”

“Yes, indeed. But I was told to give you fair warning. It is a deadly legacy. If you accept it, you accept what comes with it.”

“Which is?” I asked.

She shrugged a shoulder. “It varies from one individual to the next. Your mother lost the ability to sleep soundly. It might be worse for you. Or it might be nothing.”

I thought about that for a moment, and then nodded. “I want it.”

Lea never took her eyes off me. She lifted her empty palm, closed her fingers over it, and opened them again.

A small, gleaming ruby, bright as a drop of blood, carved in a pentagon, lay in her hand.

“It is the sum of her knowledge of the Ways,” Lea said quietly. “Every path, every shortcut, every connection. She developed enough skill at searching them out that she was eventually able to predict them. Ways may change from decade to decade, but your mother knew where they were and where they would be. Very few of mine own kind can say as much.” She narrowed her eyes. “That knowledge is the burden I hold in my hand, child. Mine own belief is that it will destroy thee. The choice must needs be thine.”

I stared at the gem for a long moment, forcing myself to breathe slowly. All the Ways. The ability to travel around the world without concern for geography. Knowledge like that could have won the war with the Red Court almost before it began. Whoever possessed that knowledge could regard laws with utter impunity, avoid retribution from mortal authorities or supernatural nations alike. Go anywhere. Escape from damned near anything. Gather more information than anyone else possibly could.

Hell’s bells. That gleaming little gem was a subtle strength that had the potential to be as potent as any I had seen. Such
power
.

Such temptation.

I wondered if I’d be able to handle it. I am not a saint.

At the same time, I had never seen a tool so obviously intended to help a man Show Up for his little girl. No matter where she was, I could go to her. Go to her and get away clean.

Maggie.

I reached out and took the gem from my godmother’s hand.