Realm of Mirrors (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 3) (5 page)

He did ask Sadie and me to wait in the parlor while he got Daoin. So he definitely wanted to talk about something—only not what just happened.

The Castle was an abandoned hotel we’d kind of appropriated when we needed a home for a bunch of displaced Others. For the most part, we’d managed to clean the place up, restore electricity and running water, and furnish some of the common areas. Everyone had their own room and brought whatever they wanted into it. The Duchenes, our resident voodoo clan, had the whole top floor to themselves.

Once they’d claimed rooms, no one else wanted to share the space.

The old-fashioned parlor off the back of the hotel’s lobby had been remodeled into something that was part sitting room, part home theater. The front half contained a few tables and chairs, some bookshelves, and an old bar counter where Taeral stashed the occasional bottle of booze he was trying not to drink. At the back was a big-screen TV and DVD player, a mismatched collection of couches and chairs, and a few growing stacks of movies that everyone contributed to.

Electricity we could get. Cable, not so much.

It was still before noon, so we had the room to ourselves. Most of the residents at the Castle were night people. Including me—and this was far too early for so much drama. Sadie sat at the table next to the window, and I took the chair across from her. “Did he say anything to you about all that?” I said.

“Not a thing. He’s never mentioned Uriskel before.”

“Yeah, well, he never talked about Reun either.” The Seelie noble who’d helped Milus Dei destroy the Others’ previous home had shown up here about a month ago, begging for the privilege of serving Daoin. Before then, Taeral would only say that Reun was dangerous. We finally got the whole story when he came here—that he’d done some horrible things to Taeral and a lot of other Unseelie back in Arcadia, and that Daoin should’ve been his mortal enemy because he’d slept with Reun’s wife.

Reun had somehow accidentally killed her for that, but not before she’d erased all of his memories that included her. So Reun convinced himself that Daoin was the key to restoring the good things about his three hundred-odd years of marriage.

Unfortunately, Daoin had lost an entire lifetime of memories. Now Reun was practically glued to him, insisting that he had to protect him, and Taeral grudgingly tolerated his presence.

Sadie frowned, tracing aimless circles on the table with a finger. “He doesn’t talk about Arcadia at all,” she said. “Not for as long as I’ve known him. I’m really worried about this plan of his.”

“That makes two of us.”

I’d only known I was the DeathSpeaker for a couple of months, and the job hadn’t come with an instruction manual. When it came to my abilities, I was basically winging it—and there were a few major problems. One, talking to the dead was painful. Especially if they didn’t want to chat. The dead couldn’t lie, and most of the corpses I’d spoken to hadn’t wanted to part with the truth. The harder they resisted, the more it hurt. And two, I couldn’t do it for long. I’d start to bleed from various orifices, and if I didn’t break it off, I’d pass out.

But apparently, I wasn’t the first DeathSpeaker. There’d been others before me—long dead now, but Taeral said there were some Fae still living who’d known the previous DeathSpeaker and might be able to help me figure all this out.

Unfortunately, they were in Arcadia. We’d have to go there to find them. And he wanted to take Daoin over too, in the hopes his father would regain the memories that Milus Dei had tortured out of him over twenty-six years of captivity. Reun had been able to help a little—enough that Daoin managed to remember he had two sons, most of the time. Not that he’d known me before.

The big problem was that Daoin had been banished. And for a banished Fae, returning to Arcadia was a death sentence.

It wasn’t long before Taeral returned with Daoin. I’d gotten used to his appearance, but it was still a brief shock at first, every time. Daoin had forgotten that he had magic, so he didn’t wear a glamour—a basic spell most Fae generated constantly to give them a human appearance. He was always in his true form. Blue skin, pointed ears, long limbs, and extra joints in his fingers. Twin crescent scars curved down either side of his face, markings Taeral had mentioned he’d had as long as he could remember.

The only thing not natural was his hair, which had gone white with shock shortly after we rescued him.

Daoin smiled as he entered the room. “Is it time for the movie?” he said.

“No, Father. Not yet.” Taeral winced a little. I’d only known Daoin the way he was now—mostly cheerful, perpetually confused, and prone to spells of half-remembered horrors that could shut him down for hours, or days. But to Taeral, he was a once-proud warrior who’d been reduced to an empty shell, and it hurt him to see his father like this. “We’ll watch the movie later tonight,” he said.

“Yes. We’re going to see The Godfather, aren’t we?”

“We are.”

“Oh, good.” Daoin turned his attention to the table. “Hello, Gideon. Hello, Sadie,” he said. “I’ve remembered your names, haven’t I?”

“Yep, you got it,” I said. “Right on the first try.”

“If I say the names, I can remember. And you are…my son. Like Taeral.”

“That’s right.”

Sometimes I almost understood how Taeral felt, even though I’d never gotten the chance to know the real Daoin. Now was one of those times.

“Father, we need to discuss something important,” Taeral said as he guided him toward the table. “Do you feel up to having a conversation that may be…somewhat difficult?”

“Difficult?” Daoin gave a vague frown. “You mean because I forget things sometimes.”

“Yes, because of that. But I’d like to talk about something that may help you remember.”

Daoin glanced at him again, and then sat in one of the chairs. “Sure. I’d like to remember things,” he said. “The way I remember that you’re my son, and I’m your father. And my name is Daoin.”

Taeral closed his eyes. “Aye,” he said hoarsely. “Your name is Daoin.”

I assumed he wanted to talk about going to Arcadia. As he took a seat between Daoin and Sadie, I said, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“No. I am certain of nothing.” He raised a faint smile. “But I must try. And…I’d not wanted to have this conversation alone.”

Okay, that was unexpected. Taeral never asked for help with anything. He wasn’t exactly asking for it now, either, but he was more or less implying that he needed moral support. Which definitely wasn’t like him.

Running into someone from the past must’ve shaken him a lot harder than he’d let on.

Taeral drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’d like to take you on a journey,” he said to Daoin. “To a place you’ve known before, a place you’ve forgotten. You and I, we come from this place. It was…home.”

Daoin cocked his head slightly. “Is it a nice place?”

“It can be,” Taeral said. “But there are dangers as well. The journey may be a great risk for you, Father. However, it may also be the only way to restore your memories, and return you to yourself.”

“Does this place have a name?”

“Aye.” Taeral hesitated, and finally said, “It is called Arcadia.”

“Arcadia.” The lingering smile melted from Daoin’s lips. “She won’t like that,” he whispered, his eyes widening. “No, she won’t like that at all. She means to…”

“Do you remember something?” Taeral said. “Someone from Arcadia? Do you know who she is?”

A visible shudder moved through him. “She does not love,” he rasped.

Then he shot to his feet and stumbled back from the table. “You’ll never have her!” he shouted, in a resonating voice like nothing I’d ever heard from him. His blue eyes nearly glowed with rage. “She is safe. The stone is safe. You’ll not…have…”

“Father, no!” Taeral lunged at him as he swayed in place, catching him with an arm around his waist. “She is not here,” he said. “This is your castle. Remember? Everyone is safe here. Everyone belongs.”

“My castle.” Confusion washed over his features. “Yes. I have a castle,” he said with a smile. “We should go there. It has plenty of room.”

Taeral pressed his lips together. “We are already in your castle, Father,” he said.

“We are?” He looked around briefly and brightened. “Oh, yes. Is it time for the movie?”

The pained expression on Taeral’s face was hard to take. “No,” he whispered. “Not yet.”

“Okay. We can watch the movie tonight,” Daoin said. “I think I’m tired now, though. Is it all right if I sleep for a while? I don’t want to miss the movie.”

“Of course, Father. I’ll make sure you do not miss it.”

“Thank you. You’re a good son.” He smiled again. “I remember where my room is.”

“Very good. I’m glad you remember.”

“Goodnight…Taeral. And Gideon, and Sadie.”

When he wandered out of the room, Taeral sagged in place. “He is getting worse,” he murmured. “I must bring him across the Veil soon, or even Arcadia’s magic will not be able to restore him.”

“Then let’s do it,” I said. “We’ll go now. Tonight, if you want to.”

He huffed a breath. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, brother,” he said. “But I cannot overstate the dangers we face. At the least, we should spend a few days to prepare so I can teach you to better wield your Fae magic. But even then the journey will pose a great risk to all of us.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that. A lot,” Sadie said. “That’s why I’m going with you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you are not! I’ll have enough trouble preventing them from detecting Daoin,” he said. “I cannot protect you as well.”

“Then you’re missing the point,” Sadie practically growled. “I’m not asking for your protection. I’m going to help protect
you
, and Gideon, and your father.”

Taeral shook his head. “
A’ghreal
, please. Arcadia is no place for…”

“For what?” She was on her feet now, her eyes glittering. “A werewolf, or a woman?”

He lifted a hand toward her, then changed his mind and lowered it. “For the woman I cannot lose,” he said.

“Taeral…do you really think I could stand to lose you? Either of you,” she said, looking hard at me. “You guys just risked your lives to save my pack, and you didn’t even know them. I
do
know you, and I’m
not
going to sit back while you rush off, and maybe die, when I could’ve done something to help. You got that?”

He looked away. “I’ll consider it,” he said. “That is the best I can offer.”

“Well, you can damn well consider a better offer than no, because I’m not taking that one. I mean it.” She glared at him for another moment, and then spun and left the room.

Taeral didn’t move. Or speak. Eventually I said, “Maybe we should bring her. I mean, she’s probably not going to let you leave her here.”

“That is not her decision to make,” he said through clenched teeth. “Nor is it yours.”

“Fine. Maybe we shouldn’t go at all, then,” I said. “Because every time you bring it up, it sounds like an even worse idea than the last time.”

“We have no choice.”

“Hey, I can live without being a better DeathSpeaker. I don’t even want this gig.”

“And yet you have it,” Taeral said flatly. “You can survive without the knowledge, yes. For a time. But what happens when a new branch of that blasted cult finds you, one with greater numbers or improved weapons? If you’ve no control over your abilities, Milus Dei will capture you. They will use you, break you down. And destroy all of us.”

I shivered involuntarily. “There has to be another way.”

“There is
no
other way! Not for you…and not for Daoin.”

Suddenly I thought of what he’d said to Cobalt just before we left The Grotto. He’d thanked him for protecting me when he couldn’t. And I remembered the damned promise, the one that condemned him to death if he failed to keep me safe to the best of his abilities. Under the current circumstances, helping me understand all this DeathSpeaker crap
was
keeping me safe.

So Arcadia was Taeral’s only chance, too.

“Okay, look,” I said. “If we have to, we have to. But I want to know something.”

“What?” he said wearily.

“That promise you made. Is there any way to cancel it?” I said. “I mean, you said there’s more magic in Arcadia. So is there a spell, or a magic potion or something,
anything
that keeps you from dying because of me?”

Taeral laughed without amusement. “Aye, there’s a way. But it involves no magic—and it will never happen.”

“What is it?”

“A promise can be pardoned, which negates the consequences of failure to keep it. But the pardon must be granted by a ruling King or Queen,” he said. “I am Unseelie, so that leaves out the Seelie King. And the Unseelie Queen banished my father…so you can guess my chances of receiving a pardon from her.”

Great. No matter what we did, we were screwed on that front.

And probably the rest of them, too.

C
HAPTER 7

M
ovie night wasn’t very well attended. None of the Duchenes had come down, and the other residents who occasionally came in for the show hadn’t stirred from their rooms. Grygg, the massive golem who’d appointed himself guardian of the door, never joined us. The movie probably would’ve been over by the time he walked from the front desk to the parlor anyway.