Ghost of Doors (City of Doors) (21 page)

On his way out, Le Ying trotted back over to Wolfgang. "The Lady will see you now," he said in a way that meant it was a formality he had said a million times before. "Just—don't lose your head like you did with Simone," the little dog whispered. "I gotta be honest, that won't work here." And he left, but the gargoyles stayed, their eyes burning low at the ready. Knowing what Wolfgang did of the elder fae, he wondered if she really needed their protection.

Wolfgang approached the Lady. Turning from the pond she had been minding, she watched his approach. "So you are he, the son of our greatest inventor." It was not a question. Her voice had a double tone to it, as if two people were speaking. The first was clear and bright, the voice of vigor and youth and eternal life, the second, rough and devoid of all music, dull as a lead bell. The voice of death. "We welcome you to our home."

"Greetings, Lady," Wolfgang said and bowed before her. "I beg your pardon. I had no idea this was your home."

"Before this war, We used to live in a palace in the Hindernis," Lady Welt explained, "made from the sands of time. But that life is long past." Wolfgang could feel it—this woman was a thing of raw nature, of the ancient past; an elder and primal fae, something that he only met once before, when he was a just child. There were not many of these left, either driven away or gone by choice, drawn to other worlds by the lure of wild, simple peoples to rule, to prey upon. The new order of things was lost on these old ones. Wolfgang felt pity for her, in spite of the power he knew she must have. SUN did not choose her to be their leader for nothing. Yet here she sat on a bench, so fragile, so child-like. Did she ever leave this room? Did she ever go to modern Earth or to new Doors, with its cars and smoke and technology? Was there a place for her in this world anymore?

A long shadow stretched out behind her, and a soft glow came from her features, as if she reflected the light that came to her from the pool and the myriad faeries who danced and swirled there as if to entertain her. But Wolfgang knew that they were actually basking in her aura and drawing strength from it--there were some who could not live but in the presence of an elder, that is, an older tree or older fae in order to draw strength. Without the Lady, these tiny things would shrivel up and die. And they lived in her glow like the moon revolves around the earth, a model of the universe as tiny bodies like stars and planets danced around her. And in the long shadow, shapes darker still moved and shifted, like heavenly bodies lost to the darkness of deep space. "You are looking for answers about your father's past," she said, "and I understand you already have some."

"Not really," Wolfgang said.

"Oh?" the Lady said, more like a sigh than a spoken word. "You have met him in the forest and he gave you proof of...that other place. That hungry place."

Wolfgang nodded. He hadn't really considered his father's Ausweis to be an answer, but he supposed it was, sort of. If it had just been laying on the ground for years, it would have been unintelligible, perhaps even in pieces, or destroyed. Markus must have dropped it purposefully for him to find. Even so, that was hardly an answer, more of a plea for help. "That's not the answer I was looking for," he said.

She played with a string in her fingers, perhaps weaving or unwinding it, Wolfgang wasn't sure. It was thick and dark, maybe gray, but as Wolfgang studied it a moment, he realized it was many colors threaded together. Gazing on that string gave him a moment to collect his thoughts. That Ausweis was not all that he wanted, far from it. In fact, he was almost sorry that he had found it in the first place. "Are you sure?" asked the Lady. Her indigo eyes channeled a strange mix of childlikeness and wisdom, the impishness of the fae conflicted with a deep sorrow. "Sometimes, that's all we get. Sometimes, that has to do."

"Not for him," Wolfgang replied. "And not for me. He doesn't deserve that." Looking out onto the water, he could see several sirens leering at him as they sang. If there ever was an unpredictable monster, it was the siren. He wondered vaguely what they were doing here. The monsters that Lady Welt had assembled in her court, for whatever reason, did not exactly encourage his trust.

"How do you know?" she said. "You don't even know him."

"Excuse me?" was all he could manage.

"If the person who raised you was not him, then you don't really know what your father was like, at all," she said simply. Wolfgang scoured her face for a hint of sinister intent, but he couldn't find one. Her expression was wide-eyed, honest, and pure. "You know, you can be satisfied with the answer you have so far," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. "No one would think less of you for it."

"No," he said a bit angrily. "No, sadly, I can't. I can't be satisfied. I'm not satisfied now, and I don't think I can ever be."

"Sadly, indeed," she said. "You must believe strongly in him and yourself in order to not be afraid of the answers. But, all too often, we are mistaken about the burdens we can bear." She had a point. What he had discovered so far had been thrust upon him, and he hadn't even had time to consider what the answers might do to him. He did, in a way, trust that everything would turn out okay, but this was like finding blood dripping from the ceiling and not thinking about why, only wanting to open up the ceiling to stop the flow of blood. There could be any number of horrible outcomes from learning the truth, but the Lady was the first person so far to point out how ill-advised this venture might be. Somehow, Wolfgang doubted she was speaking out of concern for his welfare. A fae didn't become the leader of a faction by being honest and true. There was a reason why some ancient peoples thought the Fair Folk were devils. "And you are not at all free of burdens," she added. "That is all too easy to see."

She shifted to look upon him better as she sat on the pitted stone bench that resembled a monument over a grave while her long, dark shadow flickered against the light about her like a black flame. “When I look at you,” she said, “I see darkness.” As Wolfgang, distracted, stared into the shadow, he thought he could feel it staring back at him. "The answer you have now is better than most get," she said. "At least you have seen him, and, though perhaps damned as he is, you must realize he loves you. Why else would he have told you—in his own way, of course—who he was?"

She was right about one thing. It was Wolfgang's passion for his family that had helped him survive this long in Doors. A passion that he felt was returned, and, even though things were growing more and more confusing, he still got the feeling that his family—changing as it was—still needed and loved him. If blood meant anything, then he was like his father, and his father was like him. Why wouldn't he be worthy of rescue? "It's a terrible fate," he said. "I want him to live. With me. And my stepmother."

Wolfgang looked to the pool he had seen glowing with its odd light, expecting to see luminous plants or fishes or water faeries. But as his eyes gazed over the water, he saw only faces looming up and out, scared faces, faces that were human, and somehow not. And it was then that Wolfgang realized that the pool was not full of faeries or water or anything like he had previously thought. It was full of souls.

"What—is this place?" he asked. "You said this was your home? Is the leader of SUN taken with drawing strength from human souls?"

She smiled weakly. "One of SUN's tenets is to protect humans, as you know. This is what draws so many Fair Folk to us, and not to MOON, with their bloodlust and their unending thirst. Sometimes, the humans are...displaced. And something must happen to them."

Wolfgang got the definite feeling that, should other members of SUN know about this place, they wouldn't be so eager to help her with her plans. This explained why this cavern was so heavily guarded: What the others didn't know wouldn't hurt them. There was a song in the air, the faint notes of a sad lullaby, and Wolfgang was sure that the sirens sang it. He felt inexplicably calm, a feeling that he knew was inspired by the magic and not by any true feelings of his. This place explained too much, just being here made him realize how deceptive SUN was, how much of this was like discovering child labor in a cellar beneath an orphanage. Supernaturals UNited was one of the few faerie organizations that Wolfgang had truly believed was designed to help humans in Doors—and not only did he believe this, but Marie and others who meant well believed this, too. He was sure his fake father and his stepmother believed it, or why else would they have raised Wolfgang here openly with the promise that there would be a place for him in SUN, as there had been a place for his father? Living in a well beneath the HQ was not, he was sure, what they had imagined, and he found that, as the tune shifted, he had to concentrate to keep his thoughts from wandering, from forgetting these discoveries which he counted on his human instincts to reveal. He reached into his pocket for his iron and silver talisman, which he stroked with his thumb as he often did for concentration.

"What will happen to them?" he asked. "What are they for?"

"The future of Doors must be decided," she explained with a far away look. "When I see the future, I see two fates. Only one of them holds the victory of SUN in this horrible and pointless battle for conquest of the city. In the other, we are doomed, banished, scattered and lost amongst the worlds, perhaps never to return." The tension of genuine fear strained her voices, and Wolfgang became convinced that she believed whatever it was that she saw to be real. He wanted to question her, but knew better. If a fae said that she saw the future, there was no point in arguing, because she would never doubt her magic. That was kind of the point of being a fae, or anything that draws its magic from faith. In fact, without faith, she might very well cease to exist. "These souls are needed for SUN to win. So have I seen it, so have I made our plans, based largely on your father's work and sacrifice. You should be proud. He shall live on in our success." As she rose, Wolfgang was convinced that she was more than a fae. An angel, or even a goddess of a small universe. Almost as tall as Wolfgang, golden locks fell in thick cords from beneath her cowl, and the scent of a strawberry meadow in the summer sunshine bloomed in the air around them, released from her robes with her movement. Summer sunshine...and damp, dead earth. "Which is why you need not feel regret, should you change your mind about seeking his fate. His legend will live on in all of us, and these brave souls here thank him, as do We. As do we all."

Drawn again to stare at the pool of agonized faces, he wondered just how thankful those souls really were. "I feel it's my duty to learn the truth," Wolfgang said. "I don't know how to explain it. I feel that, by giving me this card, he was asking for my help."

She did not seem happy to hear that. She frowned for the first time since Wolfgang entered, a look he had thought her charming visage incapable of. The shadow behind her seemed to grow or darken if that were possible. The howling of tiny voices in protest rose from where the darkness enveloped their source. "I am sure it was a sign to put you at peace," she said. The second voice, the deep undertone, rasped, almost hoarse. "Why would he even need your help?"

"Because he cannot help himself?" Wolfgang thought this reply obvious.

"You really think that your father could not help himself? A man so clever, his inventions rival the power of artifacts, gifts of the gods. You honestly believe a man of that kind of skill and intellect could not save himself, if he wanted to?"

Wolfgang shrugged. "We all make mistakes. We all need help sometimes."

"Not all," she said with a laugh that comes from knowing. "Most, but not all. That is a lie the weak tell themselves." She locked eyes with him and he saw in hers the immenseness of oceans and clouds, saw in them a turning world. A world that he could feel his mortal heart long for, as if he had seen heaven through her and now knew it was real. "You want to know what happened to his soul?"

Wolfgang drew back from the sensation of someone crawling through his thoughts. But, no, she hadn't done that. That feeling came from his own heightened emotions. It was her golden tongue, that gift of the fae, to make common knowledge seem special, as if she'd drawn some secret out of him. But Markus' soul was why he was here, and she knew that. Everyone he'd spoken to in SUN HQ this day so far knew that. It was crucial in this place to not get carried away with fear. Fae were like animals: They sensed fear. Some even thrived off it. After finding his courage again, he spoke, "I can guess. I know that his soul was taken from him. And that SUN was responsible."

"By his own hand," she explained. "But not by his heart."

For a moment, he feared she meant suicide, but then it all made sense. "His weapon," he said. She nodded slowly, her hood bobbing slightly with the motion, like the sail of a ship in the wind. "What happened to it then?"

"I cannot say," Lady Welt explained. Her double voices slinked low with a certainty that told him there was no doubting her words, and that arguing would prove pointless.

That was not what he expected. "What? Where is he?" When she did not answer, horror crept into his heart. An old fae, a riddle-maker. Life or death meant nothing compared to the ego boost of tricking humans. "You can't say, or you won't say?"

"I cannot claim to know," she said.

"Like hell you can't!" Wolfgang felt all the blood in his body drain to his feet, then all his strength flow out of him through the floor. To say outright that she didn't want to tell him would not be any fun. Words were cheap to the fae, who felt words were beneath them and loved to turn mortals' useless languages back on them. Because the fae could communicate with scents, emotions, or even telepathy, it was only logical, and Wolfgang could even rationalize their hatred when he realized it made no sense to respect the people you prey upon. His outburst came as no surprise to the Lady; her expression remained passive, disinterested, the same brooding distance that Marie often gave him. The look that had always made him feel more like a specimen than a friend. "It's always riddles with...the Fair Folk," he said, angry enough to show it, but not enough to grow stupid and insult and enrage her here, in the middle of her own fortress.