Finn Fancy Necromancy (14 page)

And below that, a shiny whiteboard with a list written in marker:

Not allowed: weapons, mana, meat, music players, knives or scissors, silver, iron, Diet Coke, lentils, or monkeys.

The orderly unlocked the door and led us down a hallway lined with rooms, their numbered and windowed doors all closed. Each door had a smaller whiteboard on it with additional items listed, and faces peered out through a couple of the windows, human faces more or less. One man whose mane of white hair had been shaven at the front had a single small nub of white horn showing, and an ugly scar across his left cheek—no virgin female visitors allowed. A woman blinked at me, her pupils going slitted briefly before returning to round pinholes—no flutes, lutes, or newts for her. Another woman watched me intently from above the mask covering her mouth—no riddles or books permitted.

I couldn't help but feel like maybe these feybloods should be in a zoo, not a facility like this, sharing space with arcanas. Mother wouldn't be happy at such thoughts, not after all the times she'd scolded us kids for telling feyblood jokes—heck, she'd hired a feyblood au pair for her children—but she hadn't been mindsucked by the Fey for most of her life.

We reached our destination, and the orderly knocked on the door. The whiteboard read:
No nuts, especially peanut brittle.

“Violet?” the orderly called. “You have visitors. Your brother and two of his friends.”

“Brother?” I said.

Zeke glared at me in response.

“Let them in,” a girl's voice called from the room.

The orderly looked in through the window, nodded, and unlocked it. “Knock when you're ready to leave. I'll be right outside here. Oh, and keep an eye on your stuff. She has a way of, uh, squirreling things away.” He opened the door and waved us through.

Zeke went first, glaring at the orderly as he passed, and Petey and I followed.

The room was larger than I'd expected, but it was still a small space to spend all of your time in. A bed, desk, and bookshelf filled the corners, all made of metal, and the shelves appeared to have metal covers that could be lowered over them and locked into place. A small television sat in one upper corner of the room, turned off and protected behind a metal wire cage. And a door led to what must be a private toilet.

Paintings of trees covered every surface of the room and furniture.

On the far side of the room stood a woman I might have described as a plump Valkyrie, except she looked less a warrior and more “Fragile: Handle with Care.” It was the sadness in her eyes when she glanced over at us, maybe, or the way she stood a bit hunched in on herself.

Babies of most species emanate an energy field that creates a strong and immediate sense of protectiveness in observers. Zeke's sister gave off a similar vibe that made me want to help her somehow, even though I didn't know what was wrong.

She wore a plain gray sweatshirt and pants, and bunny slippers, as well as a paint-stained apron and gloves. She painted the wall, dipping her brush onto a pallet and then jabbing at the surface in front of her.

Zeke waited while the door closed and locked behind us, then took a single step toward his sister. “Are you okay, Vee?” His voice sounded gentle, caring. My brain had a hard time reconciling the voice to the man, like watching a badly dubbed kung fu movie when a big tough guy talks in a wimpy voice.

Vee continued to ignore him, stabbing at the wall with her paintbrush.

“Sis, I'm sorry. I told them to move you to a better room.”

Vee waved the brush at Zeke, but still didn't look at him. “Sarah is angry. You told us you would take us home.” Her voice had the same sad vulnerable feel as the rest of her.

“I know. But I just got back, and the place that the fool changeling had me living—I need a couple days is all, Vee, I promise. But right now, I need your help.”

Vee glanced down next to her for a second, then said, “Sarah says she doesn't think we should help you until you help us.”

I exchanged surprised glances with Petey, then concentrated on the area where Vee was looking. I didn't see any spiritual energy there, no signs of ghosts. Either there was something hiding behind an excellent glamour that I couldn't feel, or Vee had an imaginary friend.

“Damn it, Vee,” Zeke said. “How could you say that after all I've done for you already?”

“I didn't say it. Sarah said it, because that way she'll know you're real. Our doctor told us it is very important to know what's real and what isn't. We've been tricked before.” She rubbed at the back of her left hand.

“Vee, please,” Zeke said, and his tone held a mixture of frustration and sadness. “Enough with the Sarah stuff. I'm not one of your fool doctors. Why can't you just talk to me? Remember how we used to talk to each other before?”

Vee shook her head. “How do I know you're not one of Sarah's dreams?”

Zeke's hands clenched into fists at his side, and he took a deep breath, then released both slowly. “Okay. Tell Sarah I'll get us all someplace with a nice big tree in the yard, maybe even a walnut tree, and I'll build her a tree house. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like one of Sarah's dreams.”

Zeke blew out his mustache and rolled his head, stretching his neck so that it made several loud pops. “Okay.” He glanced at Petey and me, and frowned, then took a step closer to his sister. “Remember when Father took us onto the ship where he worked, and showed us the factory and the giant freezer inside? And we got to eat in the cafeteria with the other fishers and you ate so much pudding that you threw up? Sarah wouldn't know that, right, because she wasn't there.”

Vee looked at Zeke now and said, “No. It was just you, and me, and Papa.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I miss Papa.”

“I miss him too, little dragon.”

Vee's mouth twitched up into a smile. “Little dragon. I remember when you would call me that.”

“Because you were so strong. And I need my strong little sister now. I need your help.”

Vee glanced at me and Pete. “You want me to read one of them, find something?”

Zeke patted my shoulder. “This one.”

“Too bad,” Vee said. “Sarah thinks the big one's cute.”

Pete's boyish face glowed red.

That energy field I mentioned that babies give off? Well, besides protectiveness, it also creates blind adoration in most adults. Side effects include the desire to rub one's face on them, a numbing effect on the speech center of the brain, a compulsion to capture and view images of them, and an irrational spawning yearn without thought to the consequences or burdens of offspring. Interestingly, women's breasts emanate an energy that has almost exactly the same side effects on potential mates.

I don't know if Vee was actually giving off that energy field. But I felt pretty sure Petey was experiencing all those side effects right about then.

Zeke glanced back at Pete. “Don't get any ideas, loverboy,” he whispered through clenched teeth.

“Hello,” I said. “My name's Finn. This is my brother Pete.”

Zeke turned his glare on me but didn't say anything. Vee set down her brush and pallet on the floor and stepped closer. “Hello Finn and his brother Pete.” She held out her gloved hand, and as I shook it I realized she wasn't gloved to protect her from paint, but rather to protect us from her scratches. The same reason Pete wore his gloves.

She was a waer.

I jerked back, even as Pete held out his hand, a shy smile on his face. Oh gods. Poor Petey. Here was a girl who shared the same condition that he supposedly had, who'd called him cute, who was even as tall as him—and she was crazy and the sister of an ex-enforcer with anger issues. And she was a feyblood. Maybe not by birth, but a feyblood nonetheless.

Vee saw Pete's gloved hand and jerked back much as I had.

“What form?” she whispered.

“Wolf,” Petey said, confusion in his voice.

“Sarah doesn't like wolves,” she said. “And I don't trust other waers.”

Well if that wasn't the pot calling the kettle Fey. I put a hand on Pete's arm. “My brother's a good guy. He wouldn't hurt a fly.”

Vee shook her head. “No. No, this is no good.”

Zeke pushed Petey back, toward the door. “It's okay, Vee, I'm getting him out of here.”

“No!” I said. The thought of being locked in a room alone with a feyblood mind reader was just too close to exile. It made me shiver. “No. Pete stays.”

“I'm sorry,” Pete said to Vee over Zeke's shoulder, as if he'd actually done something wrong, but she wouldn't look at him. His hurt puppy expression made my heart ache. Damn it.

“It'll be okay, Petey,” I said. “Zeke, if Pete leaves, I leave.”

Zeke said, “Fine. Vee? I promise I won't let nothing happen.”

“That's what I'm worried about,” she said in a sad tone. “I just—” She rubbed at her hand. “I don't want you to go away again.”

“Neither do I, sis, I promise. I won't lose control.”

She turned away and said, “Okay. As long as he stays over there.”

“Good,” Zeke said. “Now, please, can you read this guy?”

Vee nodded and moved to the desk. She sat down on one side and motioned to the other chair.

I'd come here hoping for answers. But I'd spent twenty-five years reliving memories at the whim of others, and facing the reality of losing touch with my body once again, of anyone making me live in my memories—

I found myself shivering, and a wave of nausea rose from my stomach to my chest.

“Is this really safe?” I asked. “I mean, the enforcers, they wanted to go after the changeling's memories, and they said it might damage me.”

“Yeah, that probably would,” Vee replied. “But changeling blocks are part Fey magic, and really strong. You just want me to find your own memories, right?”

“Yes.” I tried to move to the desk but couldn't bring myself to. It felt like I was in a dream already, the kind where your legs won't move. Tears actually welled up in my eyes. At least in the Other Realm I'd felt Grandfather's spirit keeping watch over me, protecting me. Here, in my own body, I felt more alone and vulnerable, even with Pete in the room.

“What's the hold up?” Zeke said. “You lie to me about the memories, fool?”

“No. I … I just think maybe this was a mistake, maybe there's a better way. You have enforcer contacts, maybe—”

“You're afraid,” Vee said. “Sarah can smell it. But it's okay.”

Zeke stepped up to my side. “Whatever or whoever you're afraid of, be more afraid of me if you made me bring you here for nothing.”

I gave him a sharp look. “How would
you
like to have someone digging through your memories just like the Fey?”

Zeke looked surprised, and stepped back. Had he really not thought about what he was asking me to do? Maybe not. Maybe the fact that Vee was his sister made this seem perfectly safe and natural to him.

“I understand,” Vee said in a soft voice. “I don't always know what's real or what is Sarah's dreams. But this is different. You'll always be aware of your body,” she said. “You can wake whenever you want. You'll have control.”

Control. I looked into her glacier-blue eyes for several heartbeats. There was sadness there, and empathy, I could feel it. And she was no Fey come to take from me; rather, I had come to her seeking to gain something.

I had a choice. I had control. As if that word were magic, a huge portion of my tension and nausea evaporated.

I sat down across from her. She smiled and said, “Lay your head down on the desk, get comfortable, like you're going to take a nap.”

I crossed my arms on my desk.

My Pac-Man watch was missing. “Hey—”

“Oh, sorry,” Vee said, and lifted the watch from her lap. “Sara took it. She does that sometimes. I'll keep an eye on her, I promise. Now lay down your head.”

I strapped my watch back on.

Oh gods. I was about to let a crazy pickpocketing feyblood into my head.

But the alternative was letting enforcers and the Fey mind rape me instead.

I took note of the time, so that if any went missing I'd know it. 10:20
A.M.
, though it felt like it should be afternoon already.

I sighed, then did as Vee asked. The weight of my head stilled the trembling in my arms. After a second, Vee rested her hands on my head. I flinched but didn't pull away. I could tell she'd removed the gloves.

“What is it you seek?” she asked in a formal tone. “What is it you need me to find?”

“He was exiled, like me,” Zeke responded. “He says someone framed him. We need to find out who.”

“That sounds like enforcer work,” Vee said. “I wouldn't know where to begin.”

“I need to remember something about my Talker skill,” I said, trying to calm my breathing. “We think it might explain why someone wants me exiled. And I think some of my memories were … lost during the transfer from exile. Or maybe before.”

“That, I can help with,” Vee said, her tone more confident. “Okay, we'll be jumping around a bit, because each memory is really like a mix and match of bits of other memories, and—well, you'll see. But the more memories we visit, the more I'll be able to find the holes and fill them in.”

“Will it take long?” I asked, not sure how well I'd hold up once it began.

“It should go quickly, though it might not feel like it to you, since you'll be in dream-time. I'll need a starting point. Take deep breaths, relax, and try to remember the last time your Talker skill was used or discussed before your exile.”

I closed my eyes and breathed deep. Vee was not going to feed off me, I reminded myself. I was doing this myself, for myself. My heartbeat slowed, my nausea lessened, my breathing grew slow and steady. I let my mind travel back to the day twenty-five years before, when I found Felicity's body in my bedroom.