Emerald City Dreamer (44 page)

"
Please..." Jina whispered. In desperation, she sang a little bit from an unfinished song she'd written for Jett.

I'd sacrifice my fears for you, my love,

Release the cargo I carry, behind,

Your lilting waves on the surface above,

Calm the seas of my stormy mind.

"
Go n-ithe an cat thu is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat,
" Jett said, coldly.

"
I don't..."

Fiz grinned as he translated, "May the cat eat you, and may the cat be eaten by the devil."

Ivy's fingers dug into her wrists. She struggled against the frail girl, but those thin limbs belied hidden strength.

Jett was as stubborn as Sandy, and just as full of blind hatred. At no point would it have been possible for Jina to find common ground between these two. Even if she could have convinced Sandy to speak with Jett, Jett would have attacked. There was no mercy on either side. No understanding.

But at least maybe Ezra would still be alive.

Ivy dragged her through a messy kitchen, past a tree growing near the wall. Then she shoved her through a door. It slammed behind her, and she heard a skeleton key turning in the lock.

Jina found herself standing on the wooden steps of a dimly lit basement.

She tried to remind herself that Jett was a different person than Haun, but the smell of must and damp took her back to that time. None of her therapy mattered anymore. All the terror returned as if she were there once again.

She regretted coming here, walking into the house voluntarily, just like she had the time before. Stupid. Stupid.

Jina recognized her panic attack for what it was. She'd had these before and had learned to calm herself. She rocked herself on the step, taking a series of regular, deep breaths until her loud heartbeats slowed.

Jina pulled out her phone, but it did not light up. She pressed the power button repeatedly - it would not turn on. No surprise. Haun had rendered her phone useless, too.

There may be a way out. A window? She ran calming words through her mind like rosary beads while descending the steps.

The basement was a medieval great hall. This relaxed her somewhat. It made her think more of geeks and D&D games rather than imps bent on torture and terror. She focused on that idea. A nerd's dream room, that's all, with tapestries, furs, and goblets mixed in with dice, action figures, and an old guitar.

Aside from the stairs, there were no other exits from this basement, except two small windows near the ceiling of each of three walls, which let in a little street light. She might fit through one of them, if she could get it open. Jina stepped closer and fiddled with the latch above her head.

Just outside, a raccoon waddled past. She jumped back and watched him pass the next window, and the next. There were no windows on the north side of the house, but soon he returned, making a full circuit to start again.

Fiz. She wasn't going to get out that way. And even if she did, Pogswoth waited for her.

Her only way out was through Jett.

If that was a way out.

JETT KNELT ON A BAMBOO MAT in a cream-colored kimono, her hair bound high on her head.

Spread before her lay the implements of the Way of Tea, all of them very old and of simple beauty. A wooden ladle balanced on the opening of a large water pot over a brazier. Beside it was the flat, curved tea scoop and a stoneware jar of powdered matcha tea. The whisk stood on end, drying in the air. The last sip of dark green tea swayed gently in the bowl perched on her fingertips.

In this space of serenity, she contemplated.

She had never seen a hunter express regret. They were always dogmatic.
Always.
They sought, with singleness of mind, to destroy the demons they had so conveniently made of her kind through statue, woodcut, and inquisition.

Yet Jina's remorse felt real - Jett could taste it on the
blas na haislinge
of Jina's storm as soon as she entered the brugh. It pierced through Jett's cool anger and caused her anguish.

She brought the bowl to her lips a final time, the flavor very fresh, like spring leaves and hay.

Clumps of dark green powder stuck to the sides. She used the ladle to scoop water from the pot into the bowl, and then swept it with the whisk, turning her wrist just so, stopping at each turn and reversing direction. She poured out the tea-tinged water, wiped the bowl with a folded silk cloth, and set the bowl aside. Then she attended to each implement as if she were cleaning her own soul. Of what, she wasn't sure.

The dream tore her in two. Jina's words returned to her, bits and pieces from each encounter. Jett tried to piece them together. Whoever hurt Jina in her past must have been fae.

The necklace - it had been an amulet to protect her, yet she had entered the brugh without it. Jina trusted in spite of her past, and came here seeking hospitality, protection from an unseelie. The dream required something for that. Jett's human side also suggested that she trust as Jina had.

Warring with this idea, her fae side screamed for justice and sought to guard against further deception. Where had trust ever gotten her when humans were involved?

Jett took a pair of chopsticks hewn from simple pine with fragments of bark remaining at the ends. These had once served sweets at tea gatherings in feudal Japan. With them, she picked up the single lump of black sesame mochi, and slowly chewed.

Was it a wonder the dream would tug her both directions? Her little flower may indeed be Blathin reborn, her bard. Jett yearned so for a return to that most joyful time in her life. Yet Jina also manifested those who caused her the greatest pain, the fiagai who took Blathin from her.

Perhaps it would be justice enough to give her a gift and send her on her way, with Pogswoth nipping at her heels. Be done with the matter. Wash her away like those little green lumps in her teacup.

There were consequences for offending the fae. Always, there were consequences.

Jett looked down into her hands at the broken chopstick and let the splinters fall through her fingers to the floor. As they fell, faint guitar chords wafted up through the vent. And then Jina's voice.

She was writing.

The song was void of rhyme or form. It was pure, drawn from a well of raw emotion, like a gentle scream.

Life is a thing once taken

can never be replaced, and so,

is my life forfeit as well, trade like for like,

to make us even.

Yet even then, it isn't enough,

for I have scalded the one I love,

burned her in oil,

she not deserving, innocent and unsuspecting.

She is not like me,

she cannot understand me.

Perhaps I cannot understand her either,

perhaps I shouldn't try, perhaps it is impossible,

perhaps we are too different,

yet she is not deserving of what I did to her.

I should have told her, once I knew...

I might have lost her, but at least she never

would have that one last time of us making love,

the memory to come back and wound her,

instead of give her pleasure

like I intended

like i always intended.

Jina's voice trailed off and she heard the twang of strings from a guitar being set down ungently.

The aisling nudged her, as it nudged the entire brugh. Jett's resistance was not strong enough. She let the thistle down blow where Jina took it, closing her eyes to savor it the same way she savored the tea. And when the toradh had evaporated like steam from a cooling bowl, Jett stood, let down her hair, and made her way to the basement.

Ramon stood in the kitchen, blocking the door.

"
Let me pass," she commanded.

"
Listen, Jett, it's a spell," he protested. "You can't let her trick you."

"
You will let me pass."

Ramon reluctantly stepped aside. She unlocked the door and slowly moved down the stairs.

Fiz's guitar lay on the floor where it had fallen next to his black chair that leaked stuffing. Jina lay curled up there, her eyes puffy from crying. When she saw Jett, she sat up, her motions hesitant and uncertain. Jett approached, her hand held out, palm down. Jina spoke. "Maybe if you knew why we-"

"
Shhh," Jett said. She paused then stepped forward, lowering her hand and wrapping her fingers tightly around Jina's wrist, feeling the blood pumping in her veins.

Jina had lowered her own defenses to be here, Jett realized. This made it even more difficult for Jett to resist her power, with one less wall between them.

Jina's wrist shook beneath Jett's fingers. Fear-tinged aisling soaked through. It took no effort to follow the fear through Jina's skin, down through her bones, and into her heart. The effort had been in resisting this all along.

Jina's memories clung to Jett like frozen rain. She found the source of Jina's fear, in a house long ago. An unseelie imp, serial tormenter. Jina's friend, merely a wager in a bet. These were mischief and shenanigans common to the unseelie folk, but horrors in the eyes of mortals, who had just one body and a short span on earth.

Jina hunted the fae like Jett hunted the fiagai.

"
There was once a time," Jett whispered, a tinge of coolness remaining, reluctant to let her vulnerability show, "a time when your liver would have gone to feed the dun cows, your hair knitted into a hearth rug, and your teeth carved into urns for the wee folk, for no more than the offense of thanking me with your pinkie finger curled."

"
Will nothing save me?" Jina asked, tears streaked her face, her voice raw and shaky. "Not even love?"

Jett looked at Jina's hand and softened her grip, turning it into a caress. "Love is not enough."

"
It isn't? Isn't that what the fairytales say? Love will melt the heart of the beast, isn't that how it goes?"

"
Your American fairytales end that way. Real fairytales end in blood or tears."

"
Love still isn't enough, not even for you?" Jina's words were slow, soft, and hesitant. Yin and yielding. Molding and shaping.

"
Love is too much." Jett touched her forehead to Jina's arm, gripping Jina's hand too tightly. "Your love forces me to be part of your story. Will you be part of my story, Jina?"

Jett wished she could take back her words as soon as she said them. She was giving too much, too fast. If she did not stop, she would let this fiagai dreamer consume her.

Jett found her refuge in Law, the guiderails to keep her on track. She could correct this, and save herself.

Jina opened her mouth to answer; Jett silenced her. "No, it is not love that sets things aright. It is the pain you have already suffered at the hands of my kind. And a geas that will ensure you will not betray me again, or hurt me as you hurt Ezra."

Jina stiffened. "A geas?"

"
You are a dreamer. You belong under my protection. It was the inevitable conclusion to our path together. Like Ramon, you will swear allegiance to me as my ceile. My vassal."

Jina wiped the tears from her eyes. "Wait... you were hunting me? Seducing me?" Jina tried to pull her hand out of Jett's. "You wanted to enthrall me all along?"

Jett felt Jina slipping away from her. She had to come along; she had to agree to be enthralled. Otherwise, Jett had but one choice: To throw her out of the brugh. To give her up to the korrigan. And she could not have that.

"
Tell me what you want, Jina."

"
Besides my life? My freedom? They say you should never bargain with a faerie."

"
And yet you came here."

Jina lowered her head. "I was hoping to make amends.
Fair
amends. I wanted to be safe from Pogswoth. I want to defeat Pogswoth and others like him, and to prevent kids like Ezra from becoming like him. And I wanted to be with you."