The Gossamer Crown: Book One of The Gossamer Sphere (20 page)

London

Zach waited with the others for the desk clerk to conclude a phone call, wiggling his toes impatiently in his new shoes.  The uniformed young man finally looked up and offered an apology.

“How may I help you?”

Zach opened his mouth to ask about Seamus, but stopped.  He swiveled around and scanned the luxurious lobby, counting seven people, none of whom looked like Caitlin.

Lizbeth spoke quietly. “She must be in disguise.”

Kevin said, “There she is,” and nodded in the direction of a black-haired man in jeans and a black polo shirt standing under the archway to the grand staircase.

Zach’s heart sped up.  “Guys…that’s not Caitlin.”

The last shapeshifter they’d encountered other than Caitlin turned out to be a psychopathic killer who would have done anything to get to the crown.  They’d left it upstairs in Lizbeth’s room.  This Seamus character knew about the crown, knew they’d been looking for it.

“Can we trust him?” Lizbeth asked.

“We might not have a choice.”

“Here he comes,” Kevin said.

Seamus sauntered over, all friendly-like, and held out his hand.  Guardedly, Zach took it.  Seamus was about his height and breadth, with a strong, calloused hand.  He said, “It’s good that you’re here, Zach Wong.”  Then he smiled at Lizbeth and shook Kevin’s hand, too, saying, “Brother, Sister, we’ve never met.  I probably left Ireland before you were initiated.  Lucky I had the wanderlust – got out before the empire started their campaign against us.”

Zach frowned.  Seamus must be strong if he could sense that Lizbeth and Kevin were like him. He had no way of knowing they’d only just come into their power.  To prevent Lizbeth and Kevin from revealing the truth, Zach said, “I got your email.  You said you could help.”

“Sure I can.  How much do you know about what’s happening?”

Zach still didn’t trust him, so he said simply, “Everything.”

“That’s more than I can say,” Seamus replied with a twinkle in his eye.  “Only the Druidecht knew all the secrets.”

 “So how can you help?” Lizbeth asked.

Seamus spread his hands.  “I’m here, aren’t I?  And there are plenty more where I came from.  Most are just kin, but between us, we’ve got some useful skills.  I’ve been actively recruiting them through my website for some time now.  The Internet is a powerful tool.  Now, tell me:  how do you plan to stop this bloody ‘gossamer sphere’ from doing us all in?”

Zach was torn.  Seamus hadn’t mentioned the crown, and Zach was loathe to admit they had it.  At least the shapeshifter hadn’t tried to read any of their minds—yet.

A flash of lightning lit up the interior of the building.  The sky outside had darkened considerably since this morning and the brewing storm had arrived.  Looking past Seamus, Zach felt a wave of relief when he saw Caitlin enter the lobby through the main doors, shaking raindrops from a black umbrella.  She wore a black knit cap that hid the bandage, and outwardly at least, seemed fine.  He watched her cross the marble floor and head for the registration desk where they stood.  When she got close enough, she must have sensed Seamus because she stopped cold.

Seamus’ chin came up and he turned.  Zach saw him stiffen as if in shock.  After everything that had happened, Zach’s first instinct was to protect Caitlin at all costs.  Seamus was solidly built and his movements were slow and deliberate, which suggested he knew how to fight.  When he began walking towards Caitlin with a stiff, jerky gait, Zach followed, prepared to stop him if necessary.

Seamus halted a few yards from Caitlin, who waited in dignified silence.  To Zach’s astonishment, he dropped to one knee before her, bowing his head.

“It is my greatest honor to serve you, my lady.”

London

From the moment she’d walked into the Ritz Hotel,
the
Ritz!  Lizbeth felt like a princess.  Well, a princess in desperate need of a decent shower and a fresh change of clothes, but still.  She had no idea how Caitlin had managed to get reservations at such short notice, but if that was a shapeshifter trick, Lizbeth wanted to know how it was done.  The guys hardly noticed where they were, despite the opulence all around them.  And when Seamus knelt on the polished marble floor before Caitlin, it all seemed like a fantasy.

The last thing she expected was for Caitlin to immediately begin berating him.

“What do you mean, you called them here?”

“Please forgive me.  I thought it best.”

“And you,” she said to Zach.  “You emailed this man?  Told him I was in London?  What were you thinking?”

Lizbeth wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of the look Caitlin gave him when he responded, “Apparently I wasn’t.”

“The need for discretion is essential to your very existence,” Caitlin spat.  “The survivors of the last attempted genocide can attest to that.”

“With all due respect, ma’am, this isn’t the first century,” Seamus said.

That slowed her down for a moment as she considered it, but she shook her head.  “Regardless.  Your followers won’t be of any assistance.  The sphere is malfunctioning.  We did not succeed.”

Seamus hung his head.  “I am a simple bard.  I do not pretend to understand the ways of the Druidecht, but the lore I remember well.  Was the crown not inscribed with the triskele symbol to commemorate the three?  They were powerful alone, and more powerful together.  Whatever you are attempting to do can only benefit from the united strength of what is left of our people.”

Caitlin said something unintelligible, a contemptuously delivered phrase in a guttural language.  Lizbeth turned to Kevin, who surprised her by saying, “She said Seamus is overstepping his bounds.”

“How did you know that?” Caitlin asked.  “That language has been dead for centuries.”

Kevin shrugged.

“Milady, please consider my proposal.”  Seamus shook his head, eyes pleading.  “The folk are here and willing to do whatever is necessary.  The rest of the world may not be aware of the earth’s impending fate, but rest assured, they are.  If, with their power combined with yours, we can stop this sphere…” 

Lizbeth was completely convinced by Seamus’ argument.  Caitlin’s face, as ever, gave nothing away.  Lizbeth held her breath.

“How many are there?” Caitlin asked.  “What clans?”

“Almost a hundred, but most are descendants of the folk, with nominal gifts.  I won’t deceive you:  there are sworn enemies among those who have given me allegiance in this, and only this, endeavor.  I would like to believe old griefs have faded away, but either way, I give you my oath that I will die protecting you.”

Caitlin sighed.  “Such a gathering will surely call attention to us.”

Lizbeth started to raise her hand as if she were in school, but dropped it before anyone noticed.  “I think everyone’s kind of busy with other things at the moment.”

“Besides,” Kevin said.  “I know exactly where we can go – should go – to make this work.  No one will see us there.”

The North Sea

Kevin felt sorry for Bill Masters.  It had been pathetically easy for Caitlin to convince him to take them out to Silverpit Crater on the scientific drilling vessel.  Technically, the ship wasn’t even his to take.  It was owned by some huge conglomerate, but since it had been officially quarantined, it’d just been sitting offshore, fully crewed, until the authorities released it.  Bill didn’t hesitate.

The “folk” arrived at the pier in cars and vans, taxis and buses.  To Kevin, other than the fact that they were forced to walk bent double against the wind and rain, they looked absolutely normal.  There were men and women young and old, and even a few children, some solemn, some excited as they boarded the ship.  They carried their luggage, coolers of food and drink, and sleeping bags.  He sensed only a few as full shapeshifters, and each of those took his measure as they went by.

The trip out to the crater in the storm was wretched.  Kevin spent it in the cabin with Caw, who stayed glued to his shoulder except during the worst bouts of vomiting, when he perched on his back and made soothing bird noises.  By morning, the engines had quieted, indicating they’d arrived some time during the night.  The rough sea hadn’t let up, but he’d gotten some sleep and felt marginally better.  Zach must have come in late and gone before Kevin woke, or more likely, he’d bunked with Lizbeth again.  They probably thought Kevin didn’t know about it, but after his long nap on the couch at Felicity’s house, he couldn’t sleep.  He’d heard Lizbeth sneak into the spare room and didn’t hear her come back out.

He ran into Seamus on the way to the head.  The bard flashed a quick smile, and Kevin, not one to trust a person before knowing him, thought he might like this man.

Seamus lifted his chin, looked down his impressive nose and said, “You’ve got the look of him.”

Kevin raised his eyebrows.  Was he talking about Griffey?  From the glimpse Kevin got of his birth father’s real face after death, he’d have to disagree.

Seamus smiled again.  “And you’ve got no idea who I mean.  It’s hard to believe there’re new druids among us.  It’s Tadg the Small I’m talking about.”

“Oh,” Kevin said.  “From the story.  Did you know him?”

Seamus nodded.  “I had the privilege.  You’re a bit taller, but if you gelled your hair up into a Mohawk, you’d be the spitting image.”

“So I hear—well, except the part about the Mohawk.  I take it he’s dead?”

“That he is lad, and an ignoble death it was.  The clan always suspected he’d been jumped by his rivals.  Who would have guessed tossing his body in the bog would preserve him for future generations to discover?  When this is over, when we’ve succeeded, look up Clonycavan Man.  Tadg’s killers went overboard to make sure he was good and dead.  Split his skull, the bloody murderers.”

Kevin recoiled, but said, “Thanks.  I’ll be sure and look that up.  If this works.”

“It will.  It has to.”  Seamus clapped a hand on his shoulder.  “See you on deck.”

After visiting the head, Kevin found Caitlin in the lab.  Piles of luggage and rolled-up sleeping bags were everywhere, but the only other person was Bill.  Kevin hesitated in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt their conversation.  He cleared his throat, but it went unnoticed.

“So who is he?” Bill was asking.

Caitlin held still as he changed the dressing on her head wound.  On the counter under her hand was the triskele box.  “His name is Seamus, but that’s irrelevant.  I just met the man.”

“I thought there weren’t very many of you left and that you knew them all.”

“I tracked the ones I could, but I’ve always known there were more out there.”

Bill made a noncommittal “huh” sound.  “So how do you know when you meet one?”

“Some of us can sense each other,” Caitlin replied.

Kevin started to back away because the scene seemed somehow intimate, but he stopped when Bill asked, “Can you sense me?”

“What do you mean?  Oh.”

“I didn’t get sick!”  Bill finished with the bandage and placed his hands on her shoulders, sliding them down in a caress.  Then he gripped her upper arms and shook ungently.  “I touched the core sample.  By this time, I should have been delirious like all the others, but I’m not!”

“William,” Caitlin said, “it’s not what you think.”

Kevin really began to squirm now.  He did
not
want to stick around to see Bill’s face when he found out he hadn’t risked his life to be with the woman he loved after all.  He especially didn’t want to see the accusation in Bill’s eyes when he discovered Kevin’s part in it.  He took a quiet step back, but Caitlin called, “Kevin?”

Cursing himself, he realized she knew he was there all along.  To his immense relief, Zach and Lizbeth arrived, cheeks pink and hair windblown.

“The rain’s stopped,” Lizbeth said.  “Seamus and the others are on deck.  I think they want to get started.”

Caitlin turned.  “Yes, I imagine they do.”

She led the way up the stairs and waited until the others joined her.  Zach and Kevin flanked her as they made their way to the forward deck, where Seamus had gathered the most powerful of the shapeshifters.  Kevin noticed her knuckles go white from clutching the triskele box.  There wasn’t enough room on the main deck for everyone, and the folk squeezed against the rails to make room as they passed.  Many bowed and curtsied to Caitlin, and Kevin noticed some of the women had circlets of what looked like mistletoe in their hair.  The atmosphere was hushed and reverent.

They joined the circle, which had four full shapeshifters other than Caitlin and Seamus, and Lizbeth, too, he supposed.  He saw how tensely Zach held himself as Caitlin withdrew the crown from the box and set it on her head.  The ship pitched and rolled, and his stomach clenched.  Caitlin raised her voice above the wind.  He expected her to give some kind of ritual speech or something, but she merely said in her ancient language, “Let us speak with the gossamer sphere.”

She didn’t ask that they all clasp hands, although many of those outside the circle had done so anyway.  Her eyes began to whirl before she closed them.  Kevin tried to concentrate, but he heard that annoying, buzzing dialogue in his head again.  It distracted him because this time he could almost make out what was being said.  His hand snaked into his pocket almost of its own accord.  The nugget was in its box, but he felt a strong urge to take it out.

Unlike the others, he kept his eyes open.  Caitlin’s eyebrows were scrunched together and her jaw clenched.  The cords in her neck stood out.  He sensed it wasn’t going well.  Her hands balled into fists and she slowly dropped to her knees on the storm-dampened deck, the crown glittering like a live thing.  Above them, the sky between the drifting clouds turned purple.

Kevin’s urge to touch the nugget overwhelmed him.  In his pocket, his fingers flipped the tiny hook and opened the box.  The nugget slipped into his hand, a familiar, comforting presence.

And the voices became clear.

It was a language never spoken on earth.  Kevin heard it in his mind and understood it, although he doubted his ears would be able to pick up the frequencies or his voice box produce them.  His mind had entered a place that was like a river of silver fire.  It felt entirely unlike the tentative attempts he’d made thus far to probe other people’s minds.  Those were like a blade of straw floating in a trickle of water, whereas this—he was an unwilling passenger clinging to a raft in a raging flood of information.  At first he assumed, as Caitlin had said all along, that his mind had merged with the gossamer sphere.  He thought he had accessed some central intelligence part of the grid, like a bio-software program controlling the communication system.  He struggled to find the key to shutting the sphere down, but his mind was overwhelmed with incoming data, most of which was too technical for him to understand, even if he were more familiar with the language.  At some point—he didn’t know how long he’d endured the torrent—comprehension dawned. 

The information stream was not the sphere itself, but the messages flowing through it, and the stream did not flow one way.  He immersed himself in the outgoing current, and it swept him violently away.  Where he was going he did not know, but consciousness was his lifeline and he clung to it. 

In a corner of his mind, he thought about what killed Wyn, and knew it was this place.  Her gossamers weren’t strong enough and they’d snapped, leaving her body a mindless husk on earth.  Kevin felt his own gossamers stretch as thin as a spider’s web, and as the current ripped him ever outward, he prayed they were as strong. 

Finally, suddenly, he stopped.  Numb to any tactile sensations of the body, his mind floated in a pool of silver for an eternity, or was it only a moment?

Identify.

Startled, he answered,
Who, me?

Sector Vactile, intruder alert.

No, I’m just delivering a message!

Identify.

Kevin Guzman.  From earth.

Location?

Earth!  Um, I—I don’t know.  Milky Way galaxy?  Yellow sun, nine planets—no, wait, eight planets!  We’re the blue one, third from the sun.  Your sphere is destroying our world.

Initiating merge.

What? I-

Kevin felt his head explode like a thousand suns going nova.  Mercifully, the pain didn’t last, but the alien presence invading his mind went on and on.  Whoever or whatever was probing him seemed to have an inexhaustible curiosity.  He
felt
the entity access his memories, each one with a different timbre, like a note plucked on a harp.  Helplessness gave way to anger.  Just like the flow from the sphere to this place, he suspected the contact went both ways.  Drawing on the strength of the folk who unwittingly supported him back on earth with his body, he struck back, like a serpent.  The presence recoiled, and Kevin struck again, this time with the intention of finding out something about the entity or entities controlling the fate of everyone on earth.

The inflectionless voice sounded in Kevin’s head.

Abort merge.

Just before his head exploded again in pain, Kevin snatched something from the entity, a fact or a memory, a glimpse of three star-rich galaxies in close proximity to each other, swirling through gaseous pink clouds against the pitch black of space. 

So
that’s
where you are
, he thought.

The entity responded immediately.
 Sever communication.

No! 
Kevin yelled.

The trip back through the silver stream was faster than before, probably because he’d gotten a boost from the entity.  Kevin used up the last of his borrowed strength to mentally scream a furious final message:

There are sentient beings on this planet!