《Veiled》


 Chapter 1

    Where was he? Scanning the street, I reached into my pocket, lightly running my fingers across the items nestled inside, trying to draw some comfort from the hum of energy radiating from them. It was a small gesture, one I had done probably a dozen times since arriving, and one that had become less and less effective with each passing moment. My contact was nearly twenty minutes late, and as the minute ticked by, the fears I usually kept buried in the back of my mind crept closer to the surface. Had he been caught? Was I sitting in a trap?


    Reluctantly I removed my hand from my pocket and tried to push the invading thoughts back where they belonged. I pulled the hood of my dark green coat closer around my face, more to shadow my features than to ward off the bitter cold. It was a habit bred more from paranoia than necessity.


    The fact that I blended in so well was the main, if not only, reason Jason used me whenever contact had to be made in a populated area. At five foot seven I was a touch on the short side for a Faye but not enough to draw attention or comment, and my brown hair and green eyes wouldn''t stand out in any crowd. Even under mild scrutiny, I would pass for a Faye, but I always worried that someone would look a little too closely and see me for the intruder that I was.


    Five more minutes that''s all I could give him, I told myself firmly. I''d made the same declaration five minutes ago, and five minutes before that, but this time I had to stick to it. Galicia sat on the outskirts of the Summer Court, which was the only reason I''d risked staying this long, but my crossing wouldn''t have gone unnoticed, even out here. It would take time for a search party to respond this far out, but they would respond. I had never left a job unfinished before and wasn''t looking forward to dealing with Jason if I failed, but his anger was far more preferable to the jail cell that awaited me if I got caught.


    It wasn''t just the fear of being caught that had my nerves so on edge. It was everything about Otherworld. From its empty violet sky that bathed the world in a perpetual twilight to the energy saturated air that always made me feel like I was sitting in the middle of an electrical storm; I hated coming here. If I had any other reliable way to make a living, I''d be doing it. But as a sixteen-year-old runaway, my options were limited.


    I was trying to decide whether to risk staying longer or abandon the job and take my chances with Jason, when my attention was drawn to an elderly man in a gray suit and tan trench coat. Leaning heavily on a wooden cane, he shuffled his way to the jewelry stand. His stoop made it hard to judge his height, but with short white hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and a thin almost frail frame, he matched the vague description I''d been given well enough. Unfortunately, so had half a dozen other men I''d seen walking around.


    He stood there for a minute, talking with the shopkeeper as she tried to interest him in a particularly nice looking gold pocket watch. I was starting to think it was just a coincidence, that he wasn¡¯t who I was waiting for when he reached into his pocket and pulled out a red handkerchief. The breath, I hadn''t even realized I''d been holding, came out in a rush when he took off his glasses and began wiping the lenses.


    Having finally received the signal, I was impatient to get this over with, but I forced myself to remain seated. Up to this point, I was just trespassing, a serious enough offense, but contact was where the real danger was. I didn''t know why this man wanted to cross the veil to Earth, and ultimately I didn''t care. Someone had paid Jason for his passage, and it was my job to make it happen, but being caught with the wrong person on the wrong side of the veil could land me forgotten in a cold cell for the rest of what would be an undoubtedly short life.


    Taking a moment, I carefully studied the crowd, searching for anyone who was paying too much attention to my mark or who seemed to be actively avoiding looking his way. People packed the cobbled street but other than the storekeeper, no one gave him more than a passing glance. My nerves were already stretched thin, and I hesitated. I sat there, frozen with indecision, watching as the man returned the cloth to his pocket and began glancing around, his eyes scanning the crowd as I¡¯d just done. It was now or never; sighing I got up. Threading my way through the throngs of shoppers, I was careful to keep my hood up, and my head down. If things went bad, I didn''t want anyone able to give a good description to the authorities.


    "Grandfather, are you ready to go home?" I asked, coming up behind him and gently placing my hand on his arm.


    He gave a small start but recovered quickly. "Whenever you are, my dear," he said, reaching up to pat my hand affectionately as if I really was his granddaughter. He flashed the shopkeeper an apologetic smile before turning to follow me.


    Keeping a hand on his elbow, I steered him away. "I thought I might have missed you," he said, once we were immersed in the crowd.


    "You almost did." The words came out a little harsher than I intended and I immediately regretted it.


    Now that I was close, I could see that he was even older than I''d initially thought. His voice had a rasping hitch to it, and his skin was so thin that a network of blue veins was clearly visible beneath the nearly transparent flesh. It was hard to determine a Faye¡¯s age, but he had to be approaching a millennium.


    I''d known he would be old, but I had never envisioned the stooped, frail figure hobbling beside me. People politely made room for us, clearing a path, but our progress was still painfully slow. Keeping a firm grip on his arm, I tried not to let my frustration show, as I guided us through the crowd, one halting step at a time. We just needed to make it out of the market square, and everything would be fine.


    We were a little over halfway to safety when I felt it; the cold tingling sensation of a reading brushed across my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. It only lasted a split second, but it was enough to stop me in my tracks and send my heart plummeting to my stomach. I pulled the old man to a lurching stop beside me. We were so close, why couldn''t they have been just a few minutes later?


    All around us people came to a standstill, heads pivoting back and forth as their eyes sought out the source of the intrusion. Almost as one, the angry mutters shifted to anxious whispers as all eyes focused on the group pushing their way into the crowd. My chest tightened as the five, red liveried guards headed our way. A reading large enough to cover the entire crowd would have been only the most basic. Enough to confirm my presence and little more, but it wouldn''t take long for them to narrow it down.


    They were moving quickly, surrounded by a haze of energy. I couldn''t tell which one was performing the readings, but their bloodhound was closing in fast. Even if I hadn''t been able to see the guards, I could have tracked their movements by the crowd''s reaction. Groups of shoppers visibly stiffened as they were subjected to a more focused reading and then relaxed as the guards disregarded them and moved on.


    Taking deep breaths, I tried to stay calm and think. This was bad, but it was no time to panic, not yet. Beside me, my companion had gone rigid. His bony fingers clinched his cane as if he had every intention of beating the guards with it if he had to. I had no idea why he was trying to escape Otherworld, but he clearly feared being caught as much as I did.


    He tried to move away, but my hand was still on his arm. I pulled back, shaking my head slightly. Glaring at me, he tried to shake my hand off, but I held tight. So far no one had focused on us, but that would change the moment we tried to move. With the rest of the crowd standing perfectly still, waiting patiently for the guards to clear them, trying to flee now would just bring the guards down on us sooner. I didn''t know what his abilities were, maybe he could take on the guards, any fay''s magic would be stronger than my own, but I wasn''t willing to risk it, not when there were still other options. The guards were only twenty feet away, and still heading straight for us.


    Catching his eye, I tried to convey a confidence I didn''t feel. "I got this," I whispered. "Just don¡¯t move." He frowned down at me for a moment before giving a quick nod.


    I risked letting go of his arm, to reach into the pocket of my coat. Thankfully, he didn''t take the opportunity to run, but I could tell that he wouldn''t be willing to wait long. My fingers were stiff from the cold, and I fumbled around a bit before finding the smooth, round surfaces I was searching for. My backup plan, a safety net that I always carried, but had never used.


    Pulling out two marbles, I cupped one in my palm while gently rolling the other back and forth between my fingers. Dropping my hand to my side, I flicked my wrist, tossing one in the direction of the guards. I watched as the red orb hit the ground, bounced a couple of times, and spun out of sight, quickly lost among the shuffling feet.


    Taking a deep breath, I made myself count to five before releasing a small flow of energy in the direction the marble had rolled. Beside me, a young woman gasped as she felt my awen flow past her. Large blue eyes turned to stare at me in horror while her mouth opened to shout a warning that never made it past her lips.


    My awen made contact with the marble, completing the weave I¡¯d bound to it earlier in the week. The soft currents of air that had been flowing through the market suddenly erupted into an icy gale storm. Winds radiated out from the marble with such force that they threw everyone in the vicinity, including the closest guards, to the ground. The rest of the crowd scattered, their terrified screams shattering the silence that had pervaded the square since the guard''s arrival.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    With our movements masked by the panic of the crowd, I grabbed my charge and propelled him forward. Make it out of the market; that''s all we needed to do to get out of this, I kept repeating to myself as I maneuvered us through the stampeding masses. More than once we almost lost our footing as the crowd surged against us jostling us from side to side as we fled. Luckily, we both managed to keep on our feet; I don¡¯t know that either of us would have stopped for other if we¡¯d fallen behind.


    I was so focused on our escape and keeping both of us from falling that I didn''t see the red uniform until a strong hand seized my arm, jerking me to a stop. Long fingers dug into soft flesh as he spun me around to face him. I barely had time to process what was happening before my captor released a surge of energy from his fingertips, sending a jolt of pain radiating through my body. The agony drove all other thoughts from my mind. Crying out, I dropped the other marble as the muscles of my arm jerked uncontrollably before going lifeless.


    I hung limply in his grasp, my muscles shocked into uselessness. Fear twisted a knot in my stomach as I watched him begin to knit together a shield. If he managed to get it in place, it would cut me off from my awen, ending any chance I had of escape. Unable to move my head, I couldn''t see where the marble had fallen, and panic began to tighten my chest. Desperately I flung out waves of energy in every direction, hoping the marble was still close enough to do me some good. It was closer than I anticipated.


    Pain and darkness washed over me. I had to force down the urge to vomit as I fought for consciousness. My mind swam with confusion as I tried to make sense of what had happened. I thought I heard words drifting through the darkness, but they seemed muted and far away.


    "You need to get up." The words finally came to me along with the realization that someone was shaking my shoulders.


    It was an effort, but I managed to open my eyes. Silver specks floated across my vision, and a fresh wave of nausea immediately sought to overwhelm me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I took several deep breaths, trying to ride out the dizzy spell.


    "You need to get up," he repeated. He was kneeling over me, his wrinkled face coming slowly into focus as I opened my eyes again.


    It wasn''t until he grabbed my shoulders and started pulling me up that I even realized I was laying on the ground. It was a struggle, but he managed to get me into a sitting position. Looking around, I immediately wished he had left me where I was.


    In my panic I''d used too much of my awen, triggering a spell that was far stronger than I''d intended. All around me bodies laid sprawled on the ground. Some moved slightly or let out weak, pitiful moans, but far too many were silent and still, including the guard who was face down next to me, a shallow pool of blood gathering beneath his head. Reaching over, I placed the back of my hand in front of his mouth. A soft sob of relief bubbled forth when I felt the warmth of his breath against my skin.


    "I didn''t mean to." I heard myself muttering over and over again; tears clouding my vision as I took in the devastation I''d caused.


    What had I done? The air weaves weren''t supposed to hurt anyone. They were meant to be distractions not weapons, causing a few scrapes and bruises, nothing more.


    "Get ahold of yourself, girl," he said, shaking me. "We need to get out of here. Can you move?"


    I still felt nauseous and disorientated, and there was a throbbing ache radiating from the back of my head. Tentatively I reached inside the hood of my coat, and under the hooded sweatshirt, I wore beneath. I wasn''t surprised when my fingers came back wet and sticky with blood.


    "We need to move, now!" he said, his voice taken on a frantic edge as his eyes darted back and forth, skimming the crowd.


    I felt battered and defeated. Like I''d just gone twelve rounds only to get knocked out at the final bell, but he was right, we needed to get moving. "Help me up," I said, reaching out for his hand.


    Climbing to my feet, I tried to block out the cries of fear and pain that surrounded us. Even if anyone would let me try to help them, there was nothing I could do. My meager healing skills were pathetically inadequate for this situation.


    I tried not to lean too heavily on my companion as he led us away, but vertigo caused my steps to falter. I tripped once or twice, but somehow he managed to keep us both upright and moving. Even with my added weight, he was remarkably steady, guiding us through what was left of the crowd. It didn''t matter where we went, as long as it was isolated.


    Letting him choose our path, I focused on keeping my feet beneath me. No one tried to stop us. Anyone who¡¯d been close enough to realize we weren''t'' merely victims trying to escape the carnage was in no condition to impart that knowledge.


    Silently he led us out of the market and along a side street before steering us into a dark, dead-end alley. Letting go of him, I staggered over to one of the walls. Leaning against it, I bent over, resting my hands on my knees. I took several deep breaths, willing my mind to clear and my body to stop shaking. He stood there silently watching.


    "Are you okay?" he asked when I finally stood up and stepped away from the wall. I imagined I looked like hell and concern was evident in his eyes. From the way he kept glancing back over his shoulder, I could tell he was considering cutting his losses and taking off. I was surprised he hadn''t already. He could have melted into the crowd at any time, leaving me to face the consequences of being caught alone. "Can you go on?"


    It wasn''t a matter of whether or not I could go on. I could always go on. It was whether or not I could safely bring him with me. That was the question. He was the one the veil guarded against. The one it was meant to keep imprisoned here, not me.


    Ages ago we were one race; the Tuatha De Danann. A magical, nearly immortal people, who ruled what is now Ireland. Unlike humans, we can harness and control our awen, an energy that exists in all matter, using it to manipulate ourselves and the world around us.


    Unfortunately, power and long life came with the drawback of low fertility. Barring accidents our ancestors could live for centuries but a woman would be lucky to bear more than a couple of children in her lifetime. When the Milesians invaded, we learned the hard lesson that numbers trumped power. A lesson that our Earth-bound elders still used to stress why we needed to continue to keep our existence a secret.


    When the Milesian fleet landed on our shores, we were overrun and overwhelmed. After the deaths of all three of our kings, we had no choice but to concede defeat. With the loss of our kings, their queens, three sisters, collectively known as the Morrigan, took over leadership. They convinced the Milesians to agree to a three-day truce and return to their ships so that they could prepare their people for surrender.


    In a last-ditch effort to drive the invaders from their homeland, the eldest, Badb, convinced her sisters to betray the truce. Two of the three tribes chose to follow the Morrigan. Raising an immense storm, they attempted to sink the invading fleet by breaking their ships against the rocky shores where they were moored.


    They held the storm for days, pounding relentlessly at the invaders. But our awen is not limitless, and their strength eventually faded. When the storm died out, they were devastated to discover that more than half the fleet had managed to retreat to deeper waters and ride out the storm. Having exhausted all their magic, the Tuatha were defenseless when the Milesians returned and defeated them once more.


    For their treachery, those that survived were forced into exile and imprisoned in Otherworld. They were marched in through the Sidhe mounds, and the gates were locked tight behind them. The veil was constructed between the two worlds to serve as a barrier and ensure that they would never again return to Earth.


    The third tribe, rather than break their word, fled across the channel into what would later become England and eventually into Europe. Though we still called ourselves Tuatha, we became a migrant tribe, living among the humans intermingling with them over the centuries. Eventually, we changed enough that the veil no longer saw some of us as the same race it was meant to guard against.


    Though not a common trait, a few of us have an awen signature so different from that of our ancestors that the veil allows us to cross back and forth without hindrance, and those of us with enough power and the right training can bring someone else through with us by masking their awen with our own.


    "I can do it," I said, trying to sound as confident as I felt.


    I was tired, exhausted really, and I had a headache that felt like an avalanche of rocks had come crashing down on my skull, but my awen was nearly at full strength. If I had made those air weaves on the spot, my awen would have been depleted, requiring a day or two to recover, but I had bonded those weaves to the marbles days ago. Regardless of how the rest of my body felt, my awen was practically untouched, and that was what mattered.


    "I can do it," I said again when he looked less than convinced.


    Without waiting for a response, I sent out a thin flow of energy. The silvery thread floated through the air, extending towards him. Most people couldn''t see someone else''s awen, but he felt it when I made contact. His back stiffening as my awen brushed against his skin. Tentatively, I pushed my awen into his chest, searching for the dense ball of energy that was his own awen. Once I found it, I channeled more flows, slowly wrapping his awen in a cocoon of my own. As eager as I was to get the hell out of Otherworld, I took my time, making sure each strand was firmly in place. Even the smallest hole would mean near instant death for him and most likely myself once we crossed over.


    Everyone''s awen felt different. The Faye''s always felt foreign and wild to me, but his was the worst I''d ever encountered. Cold and savage, it fought against me, stabbing at my flows as I tried to wrap them around it. I wrestled against it, forcing the shield around it one strand at a time. As the last strand fell into place, I let go of my awen, perspiration dampening my forehead.


    A flash of shock crossed the old man''s face. I stepped back as his body began to jerk and convulse. The surprise wasn''t unusual, but the physical response was. Most of my clients didn''t realize that the shield didn''t just isolate the awen from the veil; it isolated it from the owner as well. The Faye were much more dependent on their magic than we were, and most of them had an unpleasant reaction to being cut off, but I''d never seen anyone go into a seizure because of it.


    He continued to shake violently, and I watched enthralled as not only muscle but bone seemed to move beneath the surface of his skin. His hunched back straightened, adding several inches to his height, while his shoulders and neck broadened. I couldn''t tear my eyes away from him as his body shifted and molded itself anew. It didn''t take long for me to realize this was something different, something not right. It was only a moment before my mind put it all together, but it was too late.

 Chapter 2

    Shifter!  My mind screamed.  I wanted to run, but I stood there, my body unable to follow even the simplest of instructions, like move your damn feet.  The only way out of the alley was past him, and I couldn''t force myself to go so much as one step closer.  Torn between terrified disgust and morbid fascination, all I could do was back away, and stare, slack-jawed, as the shifter twisted and spasmed in front of me, his body seeming to melt and reform as if made of clay.


    I don¡¯t know how long I stood there, enthralled, before the sounds of the guards approaching broke me from my trance.  Their yells and pounding boots echoed down the narrow streets making it hard to tell which direction they were coming from.  Instinctively I stepped deeper into the alley, seeking to hide in the shadows as I desperately tried to think of a way out of this mess.  Preferably one that didn''t end with me arrested, though if my choice was between the shifter or the guards, the guards were the better option.


    The alley was a dead-end, and there was nowhere to run, but my window for running was already gone anyways.  The guards were closing fast.  Even if it took them a few minutes to find us, there was no way I''d get past them.  The veil was my only chance, though I hadn''t wanted to draw on it with the shifter so close, it was my only choice now.


    Tearing my eyes away from the spectacle in front of me, I reluctantly turned around.  I didn''t like having my back to the shifter, but I needed room to construct the weave that Ben had taught me.  The one that would connect the veil to this world.  I''d done this particular spell so many times over the last year, that it usually came as easily to me as tying my shoes, but as I divided my awen into nearly a dozen individual flows of energy, I found myself struggling to maintain control of them.


    Our awen wasn''t just a pool of energy resting inside us; it was an integral part of our being, attuned to our emotions and environment.  Instead of the smooth, steady strands, I was used to, my awen looked and felt frayed, almost knotted in places.  The threads of energy quivered with the same tremors that coursed through my body.  They caught and pulled at each other, sometimes sliding from my grasp and collapsing completely.


    Up until tonight, my forays into Otherworld had gone off without a hitch.  I''d never needed to create a weave under these conditions, and I worried that I wasn''t up to the task.  Despite the cold, sweat dripped from my face as I tried to force the unruly flows into submission.  For every three strands I managed to pull together two would unravel, but slowly the pattern began to take form.  I let out a sob of relief when, all of a sudden, the last thread snapped into place.  My nose twitched as the air around me suddenly smelt like the burnt ozone that usually followed a thunderstorm.  The mist of the veil materialized a few feet in front of me.


    It felt like an eternity had passed, but everything had taken little more than a minute.  While I wanted nothing more than to step through, get the hell out, and pretend this night never happened; I couldn''t just skip off into the veil.  With the shield still in place, there was a chance the shifter could follow me through.  As much as I loathed the thought of touching him again, it would take hours for the shield to dissipate on its own.  I had to take it down now.


    Turning around, I extended a thread of my awen back towards him.  It still resisted me, but this didn''t take nearly the precision that the weave had required.  All I needed to do was sever one strand of my shield.  It wouldn''t completely unravel, but only a small hole was required to prevent him from following.


    I should have run.  I should have risked the guards.  The shifter was a mess, his body contorting uncontrollably as it reverted to its normal shape, but as I severed the shield, he lunged at me, moving with the kind of speed and agility that seemed impossible in his present state.  I tried to get out of the way; tried to throw myself towards the veil, but he was too fast.  Barreling into me, his weight sent me crashing against the wall.  The force of his body slamming into mine drove the air from my lungs.


    Pressing his forearm against my chest, he leaned forward, bringing his face within inches of mine.  His breath had the rotten sweetness of overripe fruit, and the surface of his skin rippled as if a swarm of maggots writhed beneath.  I fought to catch my breath as bile began to rise in my throat.


    He reached his free hand into the pocket of his coat, the material pulling tight, seams stretched near to bursting, as it tried to accommodate his new larger physique.  I flinched when he withdrew a knife, and pressed its cold edge against my throat.  Whether it was by design or because his hand was still unsteady, I felt a slight sting as the blade pierced my skin.


    I''d been trying to stay calm, trying to keep myself from succumbing to the terror that had been steadily building inside of me, but I could no longer hold it back.  The slow trickle of blood sliding down my neck brought forth the flow of frightened tears I''d been trying to suppress.  Pitiful nearly incoherent pleas tumbled from my lips.


    "If you want to live, put it back," he slurred, the words coming with some difficulty from his still misshapen mouth.


    Sobbing, I glanced to my right.  The haze of fog that indicated the border to the veil was only a few feet away.  It might as well have been miles.  Quickly I wove another strand to replace the one I''d cut.  My control was even worse than before, and it took me a couple of attempts to even get that single thread in place.


    Once the shield was whole again, he took a step back.  With his body no longer pressed against mine, I felt like I could breathe again, though he still kept the knife firmly against my skin.  The elderly gentleman from before was completely gone.  In his place stood a much younger and larger man.  He looked to be in his mid-thirties, but being a Faye, he could be well into his second century.  Blonde hair fell to his shoulders, and cold, pale eyes stared out from beneath a heavy brow.


    "That''s a smart girl," he said.  "You can still walk away from this.  All you have to do is get me through."  Grabbing me by the arm, he yanked me away from the wall and spun me to face the veil.  "But if I feel that weave shift even slightly, I''ll slit your throat.  Understand?"


    Unable to speak, I gave the slightest nod of my head.  Putting a hand on my back, he dug his fingers into the fabric of my coat, between my shoulder blades.  He stepped in close behind, his blade never leaving my throat, as he pushed me forward.


    Tears still blurred my vision and my heart hammered in my chest as we slowly approached the border, my feet dragging as he drove me forward.  There was still time to destroy the weave and sever the connection, time to do the right thing and trap him here.  He''d most certainly kill me, but at least I wouldn''t be responsible for bringing a Faye assassin through to Earth.  With each step, I tried to make myself reach out and unravel the weave.  Tried to make myself do the right thing, but I simply couldn''t.  Shouts rang out behind us, but it was too late, with one last step we crossed over.


    I felt the shifter stiffen behind me as the veil enveloped us.  Stepping into the veil was like stepping into a fog bank, except it wasn''t made of water.  The veil was nothing but energy, with no physical presence it existed everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The alley we had left was still there, stretching behind us, and the sound of running feet echoed off the tall buildings that still loomed on either side of us, though everything appeared hazy and out of focus.  For the moment, we existed in both worlds.


    Looking behind us, I saw the guards come running, stopping just shy of the border.  They were less than five feet away.  A few more steps and they could grab us, but none of them dared to come any closer.  They knew what would happen if they did.  Still, if one of them had been willing to sacrifice himself, they could have stopped us.  But stopping us wasn''t worth their lives.


    Reaching out with what little awen I had left, I severed the weave.  The guards and Otherworld disappeared as if they''d never been.  Even though we had only taken a few steps in, once I broke the connection, Otherworld ceased to exist, at least for us.  In every direction, there was nothing but the endless expanse of the veil.


    When I was training, Ben would talk about how the veil made him feel completely isolated and alone as if nothing in the world existed except himself.  It did the opposite for me.  I always felt like someone or something was there watching, unseen eyes following my every move.  Ben insisted it was my imagination, and maybe it was, but sometimes I''d swear I''d caught a glimpse of shapeless shadows moving through the fog.  But it was always at a distance and out of the corner of my eye.  Whenever I turned my head for a better look, they would be gone.  I could feel those invisible eyes on me now.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The energy of the veil swirled around us.  As always, thin, nearly transparent, threads floated through the air, while thicker, heavier cords crept across the ground, but it was different than normal, agitated somehow.  Usually, the energy moved like a current through the veil, flowing by with little regard for me or my charges, having no more awareness than a river parting around a rock.  But now, instead of streaming smoothly past, the current twisted and churned; silvery coils of energy branched off from the thicker cords.


    The coils crept towards us, seeming to advance and retreat in rhythm with my pounding heart.  I shuddered when the first made contact with my leg, wrapping itself around my ankle.  It was dense enough that I could feel the fabric of my pants shift beneath its touch as it encircled my leg.  I''d never seen the veil respond like this and I held my breath as it slowly started winding its way up, moving past my waist, to my chest, hovering for a moment at breast level.


    Frozen, I stood there as it penetrated my chest.  The coil of energy felt warm as it slid along the surface of my awen, probing it, examining it.  I let out a sigh of relief when after a few moments the coil pulled back without incident.  Unwinding from my waist, it extending behind me towards the shifter.  I didn''t turn around, but I could still tell when it made contact.  I felt him tense, his fingers tightening on the back of my coat.


    "What are you doing, girl?"  He hissed, shifting the blade against my skin as if I needed a reminder that it was still there.


    "It''s not me, it''s the veil," I said quickly.  "Just stay calm.  It will be fine."  I hoped I was right.  It was as if the veil sensed an intruder but couldn''t quite decide if we were it.


    The coil lingered on him longer than it had with me, but it eventually retreated, settling down around our feet.  We stood there for a few minutes, neither one of us daring to move, as the energy of the veil swirled around us.  When the tendrils did nothing more than touch, I started to walk forward, slowly at first then faster when it became evident that the veil wasn''t going to do anything further.  The shifter stayed close behind me.


    I grew calmer the deeper we went into the veil.  The coils of energy offered no resistance.  They parted and reformed as we walked through them, and eventually, they pulled back entirely, rejoining the currents that were now calmly flowed past us.


    It didn''t matter which way we went, there was no true direction or distance, in the veil.  As long as you held an image of your destination securely in your thoughts, you could enter from any place and exit at another, be it New York or London.  I tried to still my mind and focus on where we were going, but the cold steel against my neck made it hard to concentrate.


    We didn''t monitor our side of the veil like the Faye did.  There was just too much ground to cover, and we didn''t have the same connection to our environment that they did.  Unless another Tuatha happened to be close enough to feel the weave forming, they''d never catch you in the act, but that didn''t mean there weren''t any risks.  The council had scouts, or what those of us on the wrong side of the law called sniffs, who could sense this level of magic from hundreds of miles away, so it wasn''t a good idea to cross near where you lived or to use the same crossing point twice.


    I''d spent yesterday afternoon in a park, memorizing details of the area where I was supposed to deliver my charge to whoever had paid Jason for his passage.  That was back before I knew what he was, there was no way I could go there now.  Even if it wasn''t a trap, which it most certainly was, I didn''t want to meet the kind of people who were willing to pay to have a shifter brought through.


    Instead, I thought of a rural black top that I had driven down on my way to the park.  When I was training Ben had always insisted that a smart smuggler should have a backup.  Somewhere to go if the job went wrong or wasn''t feeling right.  I''d never needed to use one before, but I was glad Ben''s training had stayed with me.


    Walking through the haze of the veil, I focused on a lone oak tree, it¡¯s few remaining leaves, having already lost their fall vibrancy, desperately clinging to the last vestige of life.  It sat between the asphalt and an empty field.  I pictured the broken, barbed wire fence, with its rotting wooden posts and rusting wires that separated the field from the ditch where a weathered, wooden cross marked the loss of someone''s loved one.


    I kept that picture firmly in the corner of my mind while the rest urgently searched for a way out.  I didn''t believe for a second that he would let me go when we made it through.  I could sever the shield anytime, leaving him to be torn apart by the veil, but I was too close.  I would suffer the same fate as him, and that was only if he didn''t manage to slit my throat first.  Die in the veil or die on the other side, the only difference was that in one scenario he would die with me and in the other, I would have let an assassin loose in my world.


    I was running out of time.  Though still obscured by energy, the shape of a tree was beginning to take form about twenty feet in front of us, and the soft outline of what could be a fence beyond that.  Beneath our feet, the ground had become rough and uneven like walking on loose soil.  Everything was still shrouded in fog, but it was beginning to take on a firmer form.  The shifter had given no indication earlier that he was able to see someone else''s awen, so I risked starting the weave that would connect the veil to Earth.


    I don''t know if it was because my body had become used to the abject terror that was thundering through my veins, but my awen didn''t fight me as it had before.  I slowly laid each strand in place, careful not to connect the final piece.  Cautiously, I reached into my pocket, moving slowly so as not to draw his attention.  Bypassing the additional marbles, my fingers searched out one of the other trinkets I had inside.  It took me a moment, but my fingers finally settled on a button, the only one I had.


    Cradling the button in the palm of my hand, I tried to brace myself for what was coming next, which was a lot of pain and quite possibly my death.  Steeling myself, I reached up and grabbed his forearm as I slammed my head back, making contact with his nose.  Ignoring the shooting pain that radiated across my skull, I pulled with all my strength wrenching his hand and the knife away from my throat.  He staggered back, his grip on my coat dragging me with him.


    Thanks to my struggles completing the weave in the alley, exhaustion threatened to overwhelm me, and my awen was nearly depleted.  Most of what I had left was tied up in the weave that would take me home, and that spell wasn''t even completed yet.  Trying to conserve as much of my awen as possible, I directed the tiniest flow I could handle into the button pressed between my palm and his forearm.


    The button had a weave tied to it just like the marbles, this one designed to add to the electric current that naturally ran through the heart.  Like healing, elemental magic did not come easily to me and electricity was by far my weakest element.  Though it had taken a good bit of my awen to tie each weave of wind to a marble, I could get a handful done before I was spent, and the weaves would last upwards of a month.  But this one button had taken every ounce of awen I had, giving me a splitting migraine in the process.  It took me nearly two days to recover, and the weave would only hold for about a week.  I had considered not bothering with it this time, but now I was glad that habit and caution had won out.


    There was no way to direct it.  The shock coursed through both of us.  I''d been ready for it, but the sudden jolt of current surging through my body still caused my knees to buckle, sending me stumbling forward.  My coat ripped as it tore free from his grasp.


    Yelling, he dropped the knife, clutching his arm to his chest.  He staggered a few more steps backward, providing the distance I needed to make my escape.  For the first time, I started to have hope that I might actually make it out of this alive.


    I quickly wove the last line, completing the weave, and connecting the veil to Earth.  I half fell, half ran towards the shimmering haze of the border.  When I was only a few feet away, I turned around, ready to use the last of my awen to sever his shield.


    He had recovered faster than I could have anticipated and I was shocked to see that he was only a few feet behind me, having already closed most of the distance between us.  He was too close, but it was too late to do anything else.  I slashed at his shield.  His bellow of pain turned to rage as a part of his shield dissolved exposing his own awen to the veil.


    The veils reaction was instantaneous.  I felt as much as saw the forms solidifying around us as distorted shapes sprang up from nothing.  They encircled us like hunters converging on their prey.  One stood directly between me and the opening to Earth, close enough for me to reach out and touch.


    The misty shape seemed to ripple and blend with the veils energy, fading and reemerging like a ghost.  It looked humanoid, standing on two legs.  It was easily at least seven feet tall; its body covered in a shroud of mist, or it was a shroud of mist, I couldn¡¯t tell.  The only things I could make out clearly were a pair of yellow eyes staring at me from deep within a misty hood, and large clawed hands with nails that were several inches long and had a metallic sheen.  Were these the shadowy shapes I sometimes thought I saw, stalking just out of sight, or were they manifestations of the veil¡¯s energy, only brought to life when an intruder was detected?


    It didn''t really matter either way I was dead.  I had hoped to be far enough ahead of the shifter that I would be outside of the ring that now surrounded us, but I hadn¡¯t been quick enough.  In front of me, the guardian opened its mouth wide, and I fell to my knees, hands clutching at my ears, as it and the others let out deafening screams that reverberated through the veil.  I think I started screaming too, but I wasn¡¯t sure.  I couldn¡¯t hear anything other than their piercing cries, and I couldn¡¯t think as the sound seemed to burrow into my skull.


    Crouched there, huddling on the ground, I waited for my unavoidably bloody end.  They weren''t there for me, but it didn¡¯t matter.  I was between them and their prey, and I would suffer the same fate as him, their frenzied attacks making no distinction between the two of us.


    I flinched as one of them pressed against me, but the tearing of flesh that I expected never came.  Instead, I was pushed to the side as the guardian rushed past.  Opening my eyes, I saw that there was now nothing between me and the exit.  I didn¡¯t question the miracle that had left me alive, and I didn''t look back as the shifter screamed behind me.  I lunged for the border.

 Chapter 3

    Stumbling out of the veil, I only managed a couple of steps before the ground suddenly disappeared beneath me.  Screaming, I fell to my knees, quickly losing my balance and tumbling head first into the ditch.  I gasped when I hit bottom, landing on my back in a stagnant pool of rainwater.  Stunned I laid there for a second staring up at the sky as the cold, musty water seeped into my clothes, soaking them.


    Could anything else go wrong tonight?  I wanted to yell, wanted to scream into the night in frustration; instead, I rolled over and pushed myself up, my hands sinking into several inches of mud.  Disgusted, I gagged slightly as I yanked them free and quickly scrambled up the other side of the embankment and out onto the pavement.


    I crawled out towards the middle of the road leaving a wet, muddy trail behind me.  I ached all over, and my entire body trembled uncontrollably as what remained of my dinner made an abrupt appearance on the concrete.  Groaning, I moved a few feet to the side before collapsing onto the pavement.  I stayed there with my cheek pressed against the cold asphalt, a strange crying laughter bubbling forth from my throat.  Unable to stop, I laid there on that dark country road, muddy hand clamped over my mouth, laughing almost manically as thin tears streamed down my face.


    I laughed and cried until there was nothing left; until the exhaustion that I had been holding back threatened to overtake me, and I was in serious danger of falling asleep right there.  Images of a car driving by and flattening me flittered across my mind for a moment, but I couldn¡¯t muster enough energy to even care let alone move.  I just wanted it to be over, and I wasn¡¯t sure if I meant tonight or everything.  My life had been in a tailspin for over a year now and tonight just felt like the inevitable conclusion of one bad decision after another.


    The sounds of labored breathing and dragging feet interrupted my emotional spiral and brought me crashing back to reality.  Lifting my head, I was stunned to see a bloody, stooped figure lurching out of the ditch.  How was he still alive?  I hadn¡¯t worried about closing the gate.  I didn¡¯t have enough awen left to do it, and the odds of someone accidentally falling through it before it dissipated on its own was virtually nil.  It had never occurred to me that he might have survived.


    He was clearly struggling.  One hand clutched at his abdomen, and from the amount of blood seeping between his fingers, there was a chance he was holding in the twisted ropes of his intestines.  His other hand reached out ahead of him, towards me, his fingers bent like claws as if his only goal before death was to rip out my throat with his bare hand.


    Suddenly finding the energy that had escaped me earlier, I jumped to my feet, backing away as I watched him shuffle towards me.  He was a mess, stopping every few steps to sway unsteadily on his feet before continuing to stagger his way out of the ditch.  I debated whether I should rush him, he was in bad shape, and I would probably win, or just run and let the blood loss do the job.


    I wasn''t a violent person by nature and had pretty much decided on running when he relieved me of the need to make a decision.  Tripping over his own feet, he fell to the ground.  He didn¡¯t even try to get back up.  I watched for a moment, wary it was some kind of trap, but his crumpled form continued to lay there unmoving.


    Tentatively I crept towards him, ready to run if he made the slightest move.  The shifter had barely reached the road before collapsing, and most of his body was still in the ditch, partially hidden by the tall grass.  I had been stunned that he had made it out of the veil at all, but now that I got a closer look at him I could tell that he hadn''t, not really.


    His clothes were ripped to shreds, and blood seemed to saturate every inch of the fabric.  He had fallen on his stomach, but his head was turned so that I had a clear view of his face.  Bone showed white through bloody gashes on his forehead, half his nose was missing, and I didn''t even want to think about the thick yellow ooze that was seeping out from under his right eyelid.  I had always been a little squeamish about things happening to my eyes.  That coupled with the fact that I was pretty sure he had been holding in his intestines, he was laying on his stomach, and I wasn''t willing to roll him over and check, meant he had basically been a dead man walking.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    A few kicks to his shoulder brought no response or signs of life.  Sighing with relief, I stepped back.  Even dead I wanted some distance between him and me.  What I really wanted was to lay back down, but I knew if I did I would probably never get up again.  The shock of his appearance had snapped me out of my emotional paralysis, but I could still feel it hovering there on the edge of my conscious ready to reassert itself if I gave it a chance.  The only way to keep it at bay was to keep moving and focus on the task at hand.


    With the pressing matter of survival taken care of, I was now faced with the dilemma of what to do with the body.  As much as I would have liked just to leave it where it was, that really wasn''t an option.  What would whoever found him think happened?  Mauled by a rabid raccoon, bobcat maybe?


    Southern Illinois didn''t have any large predators that might account for the state of his body, not unless something escaped from a zoo.  Not to mention there would most definitely be an autopsy and though I didn''t know that a Faye wouldn''t physically pass for human, I also didn''t know that he would.  Having just saved myself from treason charges I wasn''t eager to instead be responsible for the exposure of our kind to the humans.


    I didn''t know what I was going to do with him, but the first order of business was to find my car.  I couldn''t do much of anything without it.  Kneeling next to his body, I gagged slightly as I pushed against his side, shoving him away from the road and further into the ditch.  It had been a mild fall.  The grass was turning brown, but it was still tall and thick.  I didn''t have to push him too far before I was reasonably confident any passing motorist wouldn''t be able to tell that there was a dead body there, as long as I got back before the sun was up.


    Reaching into the pocket of my mud-crusted jeans, I pulled out my phone.  For a second I was worried the electric shock or the water might have damaged it, but the screen quickly sprang to life.  Time ran differently in Otherworld and the Veil.  I was surprised to see that it was almost three in the morning.  I would need to get this taken care of quickly.  This probably wasn''t a busy road, but there was bound to be some morning traffic as people made their way to work.  I entered the intersection where I had left my car and groaned when it came back with a nearly four-mile route to my destination.


    Since being on my own, I''d taken up running as a way to relieve stress, and I could usually average a little under an eight-minute mile, but in my current state, I was happy to be pulling open the door of my tan focus in just under an hour.  Starting the car, I cranked up the heater and turned the heated seats on max hoping the warmth would ease some of the tension from my back and shoulders.


    Grabbing the water bottle on the passenger seat, I opened my door and quickly rinsed the mud from my hands before pouring a little onto a clean part of my coat and wiping the crusted dirt from my chin.  I wanted nothing more than to say screw it and drive home, but instead, I threw the bottle back onto the passenger seat and pulled away from the curb.  I followed the GPS route back to where I had left the shifter.  As I drove, I tried not to focus on the fact that I was about to have a bloody dead body in my trunk with no plan on what to do with it afterward.


    When I reached the spot, I slowed down, scanning the ditch but there was no sign of the body.  I made a quick U-turn and drove back, unsure that I remembered exactly where I had left him.  After a couple of passes, I pulled over and grabbed the flashlight from the glove compartment.  Walking along the side of the road, I shined my light into the grass.  Maybe he had slid further into the ditch.  It didn¡¯t take me long to find the spot where I¡¯d left him. Blood and a body sized indention still marred the grass, but there was no actual body.


    I pointed the flashlight out towards the field, my trembling hand causing the beam to bounce erratically as I swung it back and forth.  The fields were empty this time of year, but that didn''t mean he wasn''t crouched down, hidden from view by the mounds of uneven ground.  A mental image of the shifter waiting somewhere in the shadows, liquid leaking from his ruined eye while his other one watched me, crowded out all other thoughts.


    Trying not to look like I was fleeing in terror, I backed away to my car.  Once inside I locked the doors and sat there for a moment, my eyes glued to the field.  Should I go out and look again?  Even if he wasn¡¯t as dead as I¡¯d thought, he was seriously injured and shouldn''t have been able to get far.  I had a tire iron in the trunk and could finish it if I had to.  Well maybe.  Probably not.  Leaving him to die in the veil wasn''t the same as doing it myself.


    Could his shifting ability also mean he was able to heal quickly?  It wasn''t a stretch.  If he could change his body so completely, what would prevent him from merely binding the skin of his wounds back together?  Was every moment I sat here a moment in which he grew stronger until he was able to come after me again?  Screw it; I thought as I threw the car into drive.

 Chapter 4

    The eastern sky was beginning to show the first signs of sunrise when I pulled into the parking lot of my apartment building.  The two-and-a-half-hour drive had passed in a haze of loud rock music and black coffee that I''d picked up at a truck stop on the way.  I didn''t really like coffee, certainly not black, and the drink had left a bitter coating on my tongue, but it was better than crashing because I fell asleep.


    Even with the heated seats, the long drive had given my muscles time to tighten and cramp.  My back and shoulders ached nearly as much as my head, and I had a throbbing pain in my hip.  Stiffly, I climbed out of the car, every part of my body protesting the movement.  I carefully limped my way through the gravel parking lot that was more potholes than anything else.  The heavy back door squeaked, loudly announcing my arrival to any of the neighbors who happened to be awake this early.


    My building was a large two-story brick house that had been converted into apartments a few years back, two on each floor with extra storage in the attic and basement.  It wasn''t bad as far as old buildings went and even had a bit of rustic charm with its original wood trim and high ceilings.  The pipes rattled, and it took forever for hot water to reach the second floor but everything worked, for the most part, and when it didn''t Todd was quick to respond to any complaints.  You didn''t want to go around scraping the paint, but at least you weren''t going to find mice or roaches running around.


    It was nice not to have to live in a slum but what really mattered was the landlord, Mrs. Vannote.  She was pleasant if a somewhat absent-minded older lady who accepted cash, didn''t run background checks, and never asked questions.  As long as you were on time with the rent and didn''t have the neighbors complaining about the noise, she didn''t look too closely into who you were or what you were doing.  Which was kind of surprising, since I¡¯d always associated women her age as being incessant busybodies.


    Of course, it meant that some of her tenants weren''t always upstanding citizens, but I had no room to complain as far as that went.  I had never had any problems with anyone, and her lack of interest in who I was or anything else about me had been a godsend when I was fifteen trying to pass for eighteen.  I''d been here for almost a year now and my biggest issue had been a neighbor''s dog that didn''t seem to like me too much.


    I paused to check my mailbox in the main hall, nothing but the usual junk, before climbing the steps.  I shared the second floor with a college student, and I could hear her moving around in her apartment.  My previous neighbor had been less than friendly which had suited me fine, but he had moved out a little over four months ago, and Sally had moved in.  She tended to want to talk whenever she knew I was around, and no matter how carefully I tried to avoid her, she had the uncanny knack of always catching me out in the hall.  In less than a week I''d known more about her than I''d ever known about any of my other neighbors.  Tiptoeing down the hall, I unlocked the deadbolt as quietly as possible, slipping into my apartment.


    Flipping the lock behind me, I threw the mail on the kitchen table before stumbling into the living room and practically falling face first onto the couch.  I was supposed to check in with Jason at eight, and I knew I should be feeling anxious about the missing shifter, but fatigue had pushed any concerns I should have had to the back of my mind.  I remembered laying on the couch thinking I''d close my eyes for a second, but it was only a half-formed thought before sleep overtook me.


    The apartment was dark when I woke, and it took me a moment to realize that the pounding I was hearing wasn''t lingering noise from my dreams.  Groggy, I wiped the grainy residue from my eyes as I sat up confused and disorientated.  I''d been dreaming about home, and it took a moment for my mind to comprehend why I was laying on an uncomfortable couch and not a bed, snuggled beneath my yellow comforter.


    The digital clock on the shelf read six p.m., and someone was pounding on my door, each strike causing the wood to tremble in its frame.  It wasn''t a very sturdy door, and it sounded like they were going to break through any minute.  As my mind began to clear, I realized whoever was pounding on my door was calling my name.  I recognized the voice.


    "Desirae, open the door, or I''m coming in."  Ben yelled, and I cringed at what my neighbors were probably thinking.  They were probably thinking of calling the cops if they hadn''t already.


    "One second," I called out, my voice thick with sleep.  I wasn''t sure I had said it loud enough to be heard, but the pounding stopped.


    My neck felt stiff from the odd angle I''d slept at, and my mouth felt like I''d tried to eat a bag of cotton balls.  I hadn''t even bothered to take off my coat, leaving me uncomfortably warm and dehydrated.  Shifting on the couch, I took off my jacket.  I was disgusted to find that the dried mud from my jeans and coat had broken off in chunks, coating the couch cushions and floor in a layer of dirt.  A quick check of my phone showed I''d slept through more than a dozen calls, the last a little over an hour ago.  All were from a private number that I was sure was Jason''s newest burner phone.  Flipping on the living room light, I went and opened the door.


    "You look like shit, kid," Ben said, as he pushed past me, not even waiting for an invitation.


    "Sure, come on in," I muttered, closing the door behind him while trying to stifle a yawn.  "Why are you here?"


    "You had Jason worried when you didn''t check in."  He walked through the living room and down the short hall, peering into my bathroom and bedroom as if he thought I might be hiding someone in there.  "He asked me to pay you a visit, make sure you were okay," he continued, returning to the living room.  He moved to sit on the couch but changed his mind when he saw the fresh dirt scattered on the cushion and ground into the tan fabric.  "So, what happened?  Why didn''t you check in?" he asked, sitting in the too small armchair instead.


    Sighing, I walked over to the breakfast bar that separated the small kitchen from the only slightly larger living room.  "Has he spoken with the client yet?" I asked, leaning against the counter, taking some of the pressure off of my still sore back.


    I had wanted time to think about what I was going to say before I contacted Jason and having Ben suddenly here was throwing me off a little.  It''s not that I distrusted him or Jason but I didn''t exactly trust them either.  I knew exactly what they were and where their loyalties rested, squarely with themselves.


    "Not that he mentioned.  Are they going to complain?" he asked, leaning forward studying me.  Their business relied heavily on reputation and word of mouth; an unhappy customer was unlikely to send others their way.


    It had crossed my mind that Jason and Ben already knew what I was bringing across.  They held no real allegiances to anyone or anything, and for enough money, they would probably even sell out each other.  I didn''t want to believe it, but there was always the chance that they''d known exactly what I''d been heading into.


    I wanted to hint around, maybe find out how much he knew before I admitted to anything.  I fumbled around for a way to lead into it, but a rapidly approaching headache left my mind feeling foggy and my thoughts scattered.  "He was a shifter," I finally admitted, unable to think of anything else to say.


    "What?"  He asked, his eyes narrowing.


    "I brought a shifter through," I said again, inwardly flinching at the admission.


    I''d been watching for a reaction, any reaction, but he was so quick that he was on top of me before I realized what was happening.  Grabbing my arms, he pushed me until my back rested against the door.


    "You brought a shifter through the veil." He leaned forward, his voice all but hissing with accusation.  "What the hell were you thinking?"


    "I was thinking that I didn''t want to die."  I tried to snap back, but the tremor in my voice sounded more scared than angry.  It was too much like what the shifter had done.  The wood door against my back felt like the cold wall of the alley, and I could swear I felt a knife pressing against my neck though both of Ben''s hands were gripping my arms.  "It''s not like he gave me much of a choice."


    "There''s always a choice," he said, letting go of me and taking a step back.  "Dammit Desirae," he said, running a hand over his bald head.  "This whole thing works because we fly under the radar. This is not under the radar.  Are you even sure it was a shifter?  How do you know?" He asked.


    "Probably because he practically melted in front of me when I cut off his awen," I said, readjusting my shirt.


    It was comforting that he at least seemed genuinely taken aback by my announcement.  Concern bordering on fear colored his dark eyes and whether it was for the shifter or what the Council might do when they found out didn''t matter, the fact that he was afraid at all made me feel better.  He hadn''t known.


    "Listen, I''m sorry, okay, but can you honestly say you or anyone else would have let him kill you rather than take him across?" I asked, knowing full well that he wouldn''t have.  "I tried, I seriously tried to lose him in the veil.  There''s a chance that he might be dead for all I know."Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    "What do you mean?  What happened to him?"


    "He looked dead when I went to get my car," I said, not wanting to talk about what happened in the veil.  "But he wasn''t there when I got back.  There''s a chance he didn''t get far."


    "I need to know exactly where you brought him out at."  He said, grabbing a sheet of paper from the notepad on the table and pushing it towards me.  "Is there anything that''s going to bring a sniff nosing around?"  He asked, a sharp edge creeping into his voice as he passed me a pen from his pocket.


    I didn''t want to admit that I''d left the weave open, which definitely increased the odds of the wrong person feeling it and coming to investigate.  I was already on thin ice, and I wasn''t sure how he''d handle that bit of news.  Fortunately, his phone rang saving me from having to answer.


    "Yeah, I''m here now."  It must have been Jason.  "No, she''s fine, but we have a problem."  He tapped the table and pointed at the paper he had given me before stepping out into the hall, closing the door behind him.  I thought about locking it but it wouldn''t have made a difference.


    Tiptoeing forward, I pressed my ear against to door to listen.  Ben''s voice raised a few times, clearly in some kind of argument with Jason, but he''d walked down the hall, and I couldn''t quite make out what he was saying.  Giving up, I turned back to the table, picking up the pen and paper.  I had mostly driven country roads, but I quickly sketched him a rough map with the major roads and landmarks I could remember.  We were grasping at straws, and I knew it.  The shifter was long gone, but at least it felt like something was being done, even if it was too little too late.


    "Have you told anyone else?" Ben asked, stepping back into the kitchen the accusations back in his voice.  He put his phone back into his pocket and grabbed the map, studying it.


    "No, I swear.  I was exhausted, and I fell asleep.  I was out until you woke me," I promised.  "I haven''t told anyone, but you guys need to.  Notify the Vanguard or someone," I pleaded.


    I might have left the Tuathan community, but that didn''t mean I had abandoned all loyalties.  There were only a few reasons for a shifter to come over to this side of the veil and none of them were good.  Infiltration, assassination, whatever the game was, the proper authorities needed to be warned.  You didn''t get to where Jason and Ben were without having friends, or at least reliable contacts, in high places and I was sure they could get the information to whoever needed it, if they wanted to.


    "You need to keep this to yourself," he said, slipping the map into his jacket.  "We''ll handle the rest."


    I nodded in agreement.  I never used to be a suspicious person, but nowadays my survival practically demanded it and Ben''s words didn''t inspire much confidence.  He was going to try to sweep this mess under the rug, and if he thought for a second that I was going to disobey or cause problems, I had a feeling that he''d sweep me under with it.


    "Jason says you technically completed the job, so here''s your payment," he said, reluctantly withdrawing a large white envelope from the inside of his jacket.  He held it against his chest for a moment, studying me, as if he was having second thoughts, before finally handing it to me.  I could guess this was one of the things he had been arguing with Jason about out in the hall.


    Smuggling was a profitable business; it wouldn''t be worth the risks if it weren''t.  My standard fee was five grand, and from the weight and bulge of the envelope, it was all there.  Hesitantly I reached out, grabbing the money.  Ben and Jason weren¡¯t the generous types nor were they usually willing to part with money on technicalities.  If I hadn''t already been uneasy about my future prospects with them, the fact that he was handing over the money after the mess I''d made, would have set off warning bells in my head, as it was they were already ringing loud and clear.


    "Lay low for a while; we''ll contact you," he said before walking to the door.


    With a promise that I would do as he asked he left.  Closing the door, I leaned back against the wood and slid down to the floor, pulling my knees up to my chest.  Staring at the blank white paper, I absently turned the envelope back and forth between my fingers.  I had hoped that telling Ben would relieve some of the guilt that had been building in the pit of my stomach but if anything, it had made it worse.  I had no real confidence Jason or Ben would notify anyone. They had too much to lose.


    I couldn''t decide if I wanted to laugh or cry.  The last twenty-four hours had been a complete disaster and it didn''t look like things were going to get better anytime soon.  Dirt scratched my skin as I rested my head on my knees and I realized I was still wearing last night''s torn, dirt crusted clothes.  I felt grimy, and even after sleeping all day, I was drained.  Five minutes in the shower and I might actually be able to think straight.


    Dragging myself off of the floor, I stumbled into the bedroom.  Wanting nothing more than to put on a pair of warm flannel pajamas, I made myself pull out a sweater and jeans instead; regardless of what I decided to do, I had a feeling I wouldn''t be staying here much longer.  Turning on the shower, I started getting undressed while giving the water time to heat up. I glanced in the mirror and immediately regretted it.  Even after nearly ten hours of sleep I still had dark circles and a definite sallow tinge to my eyes.  Scratches marred one of my cheeks, and I couldn''t stop my hand from shaking as I ran a finger along the thin line of dried blood that marked my neck.


    Pulling my hoody off, I winced as the fabric that was sticking to the wound on the back of my head tore free, taking part of the newly formed scab with it.  A fresh trickle of blood slid through my hair and down my scalp.  My hair, with its thick chestnut waves, was usually my best feature, but now it was an oily matted mess.


    As I finished undressing, I took note of the various scrapes and bruises that covered the rest of my body, but other than a large bruise on my right hip and the abrasion on my head, nothing seemed to be too serious.  Though with the way my thoughts still seemed slow and scattered I was pretty sure I had some kind of concussion.


    Twenty minutes later I was back on the couch feeling considerably cleaner and somewhat less sore.  A piece of gauze and some tape formed a makeshift bandage on the back of my head.  The rest of my injuries had been superficial, needing no more care than a good cleaning.  While showering, I had decided that I definitely couldn''t trust Jason and Ben to do the right thing and once I''d reached that conclusion, there was only one option left.  But knowing what I needed to do and mustering the courage to do it was two different things.  It''s just a phone call, an anonymous phone call, I chided myself after having sat there for several minutes staring at my phone.


    Hitting the screen, a little harder than necessary, I dialed the ten digits every Tuathan knew by heart.


    "Danu International, how may I direct your call?" a pleasant voice answered immediately.


    "Vanguard unit please," I said my voice breaking slightly at the end.


    "One moment please," the voice said, followed by cheerful hold music.


    "Vanguard, Agent Klein speaking."  A much less pleasant voice answered a few seconds later.  "Can I help you?" he repeated when I didn''t answer right away.


    "I''d like to report an illegal crossing," I stammered, pushing the words past the lump in my throat.


    Otherworld was only about the size of Montana.  The limited area and the Faye''s unique connection to their world allowed them to monitor the veil on their end.  Each court covered their own realms, and as for the areas that neither court claimed, well you didn''t want to be crossing over into them anyways.  It wasn''t the same on the Earth side.  Even if we had the same connection to our world that they did, the sheer size made monitoring impossible.


    "Name?" he asked, a keyboard clicking in the background.


    "Can I be anonymous?"


    There was an audible sigh before he continued, sounding even less interested than before. "When and where did it occur?"


    I hesitated, unsure if I should give him the Earth side or Otherworld crossing point.


    "When and Where?" He repeated, his words terse.


    "Last night in Galicia." I blurted.


    Giving the location in Otherworld was pretty much admitting I had been involved, at least in some way, but the Earth side crossing was just a little too close to home.  Not to mention Ben would kill me if he thought I had sent the Vanguard to where he was presumably checking for the shifter.  That¡¯s if he wasn''t already planning to come back and kill me anyways.


    There was a moment of silence from the other end of the line before he spoke again, the indifference gone from his voice.  "What''s your name?"  This time it was a demand rather than a request.


    I hung up the phone.  It rung again almost immediately.  I sent it straight to voicemail.  It rung again a minute later, this time I let it continue ringing.  Could they trace the call?  Of course, they could.  Should have thought about that beforehand.  My phone was one I''d picked up at the local Walmart, with no contract and nothing attaching my name or address to the number but it still had a GPS chip.


    I resisted the urge to go look out the window as if someone would already be in the street watching.  Why hadn''t I at least left my apartment before calling?   It wouldn''t take them long to figure out who I was.  I hadn''t bothered with a fake name when I rented the apartment.  A quick review of the mailboxes downstairs would send them straight to my door.


    There wasn''t much I could do about it now.  I had already half decided that I didn''t trust Jason and Ben enough to stay, but now there really was no choice.  I could either wait here for the inevitable knock on my door; if they were polite enough to knock, or I could run.  If I left now, I might get enough of a head start to avoid any sniffs that tried to follow.  Ben said I needed to lay low, what I needed to do was disappear.  Start a new life somewhere else.


    Cursing myself for being so stupid, I left my phone on the couch and went into the bedroom.  Pulling a duffel bag from the closet, I rummaged through my drawers, throwing in a couple of pairs of jeans, some sweaters, a few Tees, and my sneakers; stuffing socks, underwear, and a few toiletries into the remaining crevices.  I zipped up the bag and surveyed the room, not wanting to forget anything.  There wasn''t really anything to forget.  The room was practically empty, my entire existence shrunk down to a single duffel bag.


    When I first ran away, I''d been broke, but since falling in with Jason, I made more than enough money to live comfortably, but I just couldn¡¯t bring myself to care about anything anymore.  I had no motivation, no drive, my hobbies replaced by TV and too much sleep.  The only thing I had made time for was running, which was more to keep myself sane than anything else.  That had become my life, every bit as sad as it sounded.


    But I didn''t plan for this to become permanent, there was no way I was smuggling for the rest of my life.  My current situation was bred from desperation, and temporary.  I had no intentions of continuing down this path.  Even if I wasn''t motivated to live my life now, I was motivated for the future.  A future where I didn''t have to look over my shoulder or worry about who was knocking at the door.


    Almost every extra penny I made went into a savings account for college.  Get my GED, graduate college, and then live the rest of my life discreetly among humans.  Never having anything to do with the Tuathans or magic again.  That had been the plan.  But now it was all falling apart.


    Throwing the duffel over my shoulder, I took one last look around.  I don''t know why; I wasn''t going to miss this place.  I''d never considered it my home, just somewhere to stay so I wasn''t out on the street.  I unhooked the apartment key from my keyring and set it on the counter before grabbing my coat and purse.  I didn''t bother engaging the lock behind me.  If anyone came looking for me, hopefully, they''d try the knob first and save Mrs. Vannote the hassle of having to replace the door.

 Chapter 5

    The best place to hide is in plain sight.  There was no lesson we''d taken more to heart from our years of wandering after the exile, when our very survival depended on blending in, on integrating ourselves into the cultures around us.  Sitting at a small table, I watched as men and women filed in and out of Danu International Shipping.


    With its wide curving concrete steps and large glass doors, the ten-story white brick edifice looked like any other upscale office building in the bustling downtown district.  No one walking by gave it a second look, and no one would ever guess it was the Consulate headquarters and core of Tuathan society.


    Not that it was all just a front.  The first three floors were in fact, an international shipping company, a highly respected and profitable one that provided the majority of our government funding.  It was just the rest that was kept a closely guarded secret.


    I''d been almost two hours into my drive to Chicago, with every intention of catching the first plane heading west; California, Washington it didn''t matter as long as it put some distance between me and the people I knew were coming, when guilt and paranoia began creeping up on me.  Attempting to drown them out, I''d cranked up the volume on a rock station and started singing along, badly, to a Kansas classic.  After all, I''d already given them a heads up.  I''d done my part, I didn''t owe them anything else, I told myself in between choruses of Carry On Wayward Son, but the excuses sounded weak even to my own ears.


    I was just south of Joliet when I couldn''t take it anymore.  Clutching the wheel, I cut across two lanes of traffic, veering onto the exit.  It probably would have been quicker to continue on to O''Hare and catch a flight heading east rather than west, but I wasn''t quite ready for that level of commitment to a plan that wasn''t even half-formed yet and quite possibly insane.  As long as I was driving there was still time to come to my senses, change my mind, and turn around.


    I took I-80 heading east, my tan focus shimmying as I pushed the speedometer past one hundred.  I wasn''t entirely sure of my intentions, but I knew I couldn''t run, no matter how much I wanted to.  I felt responsible for the shifter.  I was responsible for the shifter, and I had a duty to do what I could about it.  Besides, I was a fugitive now, not just a runaway and that pushed the stakes higher than I was prepared to deal with.  Go back now on my own or risk being dragged back later.


    Driving all night, I passed the sign welcoming me to Virginia right around sunrise and pulled into a downtown parking deck a little after eight.  I''d been determined to walk right into the Consulate and announce to security that I was there to turn myself in, but as my steps brought me closer to my destination my resolve faltered, and I now found myself sitting in a small diner, down the block from the shining glass doors, sipping orange juice with an untouched breakfast platter sitting in front of me.


    I''d like to say that it was a sense of responsibility that had driven me this far but to be honest it was mostly fear.  Fear of spending the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, worrying that every stranger on the street or knock on the door was someone coming for me.  And because it was fear that had gotten me here, it was fear that stopped me from going any further.  Maybe life on the run was the better choice after all.


    Whatever I was going to decide, I had to do it soon.  Around me, the tables were starting to fill up with the morning regulars, and my waitress kept giving me the eye, the one that said I was overstaying my welcome.  I couldn''t hang around much longer, but I couldn''t bring myself to get up and leave either.


    "Miss. Cradle?" a voice said from behind me.


    I jumped as I felt a shield snap in place, cutting me off from my awen, moments before a strong hand came down on my shoulder.  It was the same as what I''d done to the shifter but where it had taken me a couple of minutes to weave a complete shield this one was in place before I even realized anything was happening.  The fork I was holding clattered noisily to the table.  Swallowing, I turned my head to look over my shoulder.


    I couldn''t make myself immediately look at the man who held me.  Instead, my eyes rested on long fingers with clean neatly trimmed nails.  Slowly they traveled past a steel watch to a buttoned white cuff, then skimmed up the length of a pressed blue sleeve to a set of broad shoulders before continuing upwards past a gray striped tie tucked into a dark vest.  They moved past a strong jaw, lingered on full red lips that any girl would kill for, before taking in a slightly too long nose, and finally completing their path, making contact with a pair of heavily lashed brown eyes.  In his early twenties, his suit was well tailored emphasizing a trim athletic build.  Dark blonde bangs hung slightly in his eyes adding a hint of boyishness to a look that was otherwise all business.


    He was tall, towering over me, and his stare made me feel like a bug pinned to a cork board; a beetle, not a butterfly.  I could feel the warmth of a blush radiating across my cheeks, and I dropped my eyes.  Where he was fresh and polished, I was anything but.  I still wore the same sweater and jeans I''d put on last night.  After nearly a twelve hour drive they were wrinkled and sporting an unidentifiable stain a few inches below where his fingers rested.  I was grateful that I''d at least removed the makeshift bandage and brushed my hair before getting out of the car.  I''d have been mortified if I''d still had a piece of gauze taped to the back of my head.


    "Desirae Cradle?" he asked again.


    "Yes," I said, my voice squeaking slightly as I turned to look at him again.  There was no use trying to lie.  He wouldn''t have approached if he wasn''t already sure.


    He wasn''t alone.  Another agent, his head shaved smooth, stood a few feet behind him.  He was a few inches shorter but had ten years and a good fifty pounds of muscle on the blonde.  He was dressed almost identically, except his tie hung loose, and the dark head of a bird tattoo peeked out from behind his unbuttoned collar.  I found myself shifting uncomfortably as his gray blue eyes seemed to burrow into me.


    His hand rested with his thumb hooked on his belt.  He had discreetly pushed aside his jacket so I could clearly see the badge and gun resting on his hip.  Not that either was necessary.  It was obvious who they were, and they didn''t need a weapon to make me compliant.  The blonde''s shield had gotten my attention more than any overt threat could.


    "I''m guessing it''s not a coincidence that you''re here today after your name and picture came across the bulletins last night," the blonde agent said, almost conversationally.


    He kept his voice low, and I could tell from the way his partner''s eyes kept darting around the room, that they were trying not to draw too much attention.  We weren''t in a Tuathan establishment, and the Vanguard had no real authority here.  If anyone wanted to press them on why two men were harassing a young girl, they would have little recourse.


    I thought about causing the scene they were clearly trying to avoid.  Was taking me in important enough to risk exposing themselves?  Not that they didn''t have ways to clean that up, but was I worth it?  I quickly dismissed the idea, after all, I had been planning to turn myself in anyways, and there was a strong possibility that they would find taking me in worth the risk.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    "We''re going to need you to come with us," he said, releasing my shoulder and stepping back so I could get up.  His partner moved in a little closer as if he thought I would try to make a run for it.  The thought was laughable, cut off from my awen I had no chance of escaping.


    "Am I under arrest?"


    "Do you need to be?" the blonde asked.


    I quickly shook my head.  My hand trembled as I reached down to grab my purse, tucked under the table, but he was quicker, seizing the strap before I could reach it.


    "We''ll get this," he said, passing it off to his partner.


    "I have to pay the bill," I said weakly, noticing the waitress eyeing us.


    I had money in my purse, the envelope Ben had given me, but the blonde reached into his jacket and pulled out a wallet.  He put down a few bills that were more than enough to cover the tab, at least the waitress was going to get a good tip.


    Shakily I stood up grateful that my legs didn''t promptly deposit me on the floor; I hadn''t been a hundred percent sure they would be willing to support me.  Hesitating, I waited until the blonde gave me a nod to go ahead before I moved.  I walked out the door, the two of them following right behind, close enough to touch; though neither did.  If anyone thought it was odd to see two men in suits, one of them caring a purse, escorting a teenager in a worn sweatshirt and jeans down the sidewalk, they didn''t say anything.


    Self-conscious to the point of hyper-awareness, every movement suddenly felt exaggerated and unnatural.  I couldn''t breathe, I couldn''t think, and I couldn''t decide what to do with my hands.  Repeatedly I put them in my pockets and then quickly took them back out, lest they think I was reaching for something, only to have them hang clumsily at my sides for a few moments before crossing them in front of my chest and then repeating the whole sequence over again.


    My steps became awkward, and the simple process of walking became a near impossible task requiring deep concentration.  I''m not a naturally clumsy person, and I was mortified when for the second time the younger agent grabbed my arm to save me from a nasty fall after stumbling over my own feet.  I could feel the heat of embarrassment spreading from my cheeks, down my neck.


    It was less than two blocks from the diner, but by the time we reached the steps, I felt mentally and physically drained as if we''d been walking for miles.  Climbing the broad steps I was amazed when I managed to make it to the glass doors without falling on my face.  Once inside and out of the public eye, I expected the show of courtesy to melt away, replaced by steel handcuffs, but neither agent made a move to restrain me as we walked across the lobby.


    I had only been to the Consulate twice, once on a civics field trip in sixth grade and the night I ran away.  It looked just as I remembered, a bit smaller but no less imposing.  The lobby was expansive with white marble floors and a ceiling that vaulted to the second story.  The walls were a dark golden color complemented by green accents and the soft light of three large circular chandeliers.


    A mahogany reception desk sat near the front of the lobby, manned by two impeccably dressed women whose sole job was to make sure no humans accidentally found themselves in an area they shouldn''t be.  We bypassed the women at the desk heading behind them, where security guards checked identifications and monitored a row of metal detectors.


    Most of the people walking through the detectors continued on their way, but a few were pulled aside for further screening by one of the guards.  I could see the faint glowing lines of a detection weave meant to sense any magical items that the conventional detectors would have missed.


    They made me think of the bonded weaves I had sitting in a drawer back at the apartment not to mention those still in the pocket of the muddy coat I''d left in my car.  I should have taken a minute to unravel them before leaving.  Since I only ever brought them with me into Otherworld, I hadn''t bothered to tie them to my specific awen signature.  Anyone channeling enough energy in their direction could set them off.


    I considered mentioning them to the agents next to me, but I was having trouble finding my voice.  Besides, by this time my apartment would have been thoroughly searched and the items already found.  Whoever was sent to ransack through my things should have been careful, but I''d hate to for them to think I¡¯d left the weaves as some kind of booby-trap.  Just add it to the list of things I should have thought about.


    Moving to join the queue waiting to pass through the detectors, I was surprised when a hand on my back directed me to the side instead.  The Agents flashed their IDs, and the guard waved us through, bypassing security entirely.  Clearly, they didn''t see me as much of a threat.  They hadn''t even bothered to frisk me, and now we were ignoring standard security.  Of course, with my awen blocked there wasn¡¯t much I could do.  The only indication that they had any concerns at all, was when the bald agent waved off a couple of people who tried to join us on the elevator.


    We rode in silence to the seventh floor.  The second agent trailed behind as I followed the blonde down the hallway, our steps echoing off the gray tile.  I felt a chill run down my spine as an unpleasant sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu rushed over me.


    I don''t know what had happened; they wouldn''t give me any details.  All I knew was that neighbors had reported some kind of disturbance at our house, and my mom was missing.  With less than a month left in my freshman year, Vanguard agents descended on my school, yanked me from class and escorted me out in front of what felt like half the student body.  They rummaged through my bag and my locker looking for who knows what.  From the questions they asked, I don''t think they knew precisely what had happened or what they were looking for.


    They wanted to know who my mother really was.  I insisted she was Carolyn Cradle; she wrote historical fiction and loved quilting.  They wanted to know who her friends were and if anyone came by the house.  As far as I knew my mom didn''t have any close friends, it was just her and me, and my friends where the only people who ever came by.  I''d cried and begged to know what was going on, what had happened to my mom.  I didn''t get any answers, instead what I got was the complete destruction of my entire world.


    Once it was clear that I didn''t know anything I¡¯d been moved down to the social service offices on the third floor.  I sat in the hallway in an uncomfortable plastic chair while they tried to decide what to do with me.  Their offices weren''t soundproof, and though I couldn''t hear everything, I heard enough.  While they had been busy interviewing me, several other agents had been digging into every aspect of our lives and what they discovered made my blood run cold.


    Carolyn Cradle didn''t exist.  Well, Carolyn Cradle-Palmer existed or had existed.  She had died two years ago, along with her husband and fifteen-year-old son, in a house fire outside Toronto.  She was the real Carolyn Cradle, the one whose name was written in the genealogy books stored in the archives.  The one who had decided to break ties to the Tuatha community and live as a human.  My mother was just the woman who''d come to town fifteen years ago with a stolen identity and a newborn daughter.


    Looking back, I guess I should have found it odd that it was only my mom and me.  Tuatha families tended to be small but close-knit, generation after generation living in the same area.  My father had been little more than a one night stand from college, and he''d skipped out before I was born.  Mom was an only child, and my grandparents had died while she was still in high school, or so she''d always told me, but there should have been other relatives, great aunts, and uncles, cousins twice removed but there had been no one.  If mom and I hadn''t been so close, I might have noticed the absence of everyone else, but I''d never felt like I needed anyone but her.


    I''d sat there numb for at least another hour wondering who my mother was if she wasn''t Carolyn Cradle and who I was.  It didn''t take long for my mind to turn to darker questions.  Was she even my mother at all?  What about my father, had he really left us?  Was he just a fake name on a fake birth certificate?  Eventually, I couldn''t take it anymore.  I asked to go to the bathroom and then walked out of the building and never looked back.


    I''d planned never to come back, yet here I was.  Keeping my head down, I followed the agent down the hall which ended in a large open office space.  Desks were arranged in groups of four on a thick blue carpet that did its best to muffle some of the noise.  The desks were mostly empty, but a buzz of conversation permeated the room.  No one more than glanced our way as I was led along a wall lined with doors leading to individual offices or private meeting rooms.  At the far end, the Agent stopped and opened the door nodding for me to go in.  Posted next to the door was a sign stating that all interviews were monitored and subject to recording.

 Chapter 6

    The room was warm, almost hot, and I could feel sweat beginning to slide down the small of my back the moment I stepped inside.  It was probably intentional, easier to manipulate the suspect if they were uncomfortable and agitated.  It looked exactly like I expected an interrogation room to look.  A heavy metal desk was bolted down to the concrete floor in the middle of the room.  Chairs sat on either side, the one facing the two-way mirror was also bolted down and had two small hooks on the arms for restraints.  A small analog clock ticked loudly on the wall across from the mirror, while a single row of fluorescent lights cast a blue glow over dingy white walls.  In the corner perched a camera, its light flashing green.


    "Go ahead and have a seat," the Agent said, with a nod to the bolted down chair. "Someone will be with you shortly.  Can I get you water or anything?" Unable to find my voice, I just shook my head.


    The moment the door clicked shut behind him, a wave of terror suddenly washed over me, and my hand was on the brass knob before I even realized what I was doing.  Shocked, I stared down at my fingers, clinched so tight that the knuckles were starting to turn white.  I stood there every muscle in my body ridged as I fought the urge to rip the door open, rush out, and beg him to come back, to not leave me in here alone.


    What was wrong with me? He''d been nice enough, but I didn''t trust him, I wasn''t that stupid, so why did I now want nothing more than to have him back in the room with me.  His presence had brought with it a sense of calmness that was only apparent now by its absence and the fear I should have had this entire time came rushing in, threatening to drown me.  Was it something he''d intentionally done?  I hadn''t seen any weaves, and emotional manipulation was supposed to be an extinct talent, one of the many we''d lost over the centuries of intermingling our bloodlines with the humans, but who really knew what those in the Vanguard were capable of.


    He had to have done something.  Why else would I have willing walked into a place that I knew I might never walk out of.  Sure, I''d been uncomfortable, nervous even, ever since they found me in the diner but I should have been knee knocking, heart pounding terrified, the kind of terror that I now felt clawing at my mind.  The question was, why had he done it.  Was he standing just on the other side of the door, waiting for me to rush out, promising to tell him everything as long as he came back because that''s what I felt like doing, what my mind was screaming at me to do.


    Whatever the reason, I wasn''t going to let him manipulate me any further.  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I pried my fingers from their death grip and forced myself to turn around, my legs feeling weak as I shakily walked over to the table and slid into the seat.  Resting my forehead in my hands, I tried to focus on my breathing, pushing down the nearly overwhelming urge to go after the Agent.  It took a few minutes, but slowly my muscles began to relax, and my breathing became less shallow and jagged.  The fear was still there, but it wasn''t the near-paralyzing terror that it had been, though I knew that if I didn''t find something to occupy my mind, it would slowly creep its way back in.


    Though the Agent had taken his calming weave or whatever it was, with him when he left, his shield remained, an ever-persistent barrier between me and my awen. I''d had so much else on my mind before that I''d been able to ignore it, but now it was the distraction I needed.  Other than for a few minutes while Ben was teaching me to weave shields, I had never been cut off before, and I was surprised by how vulnerable it made me feel, especially since I routinely went entire weeks without using my awen, if I didn''t have a job, but there was something different about not using it and not being able to use it.  Licking my lips, I wished I''d taken up his offer of a glass of water.


    I started by simply inspected the shield, searching for some weakness or small defect that I might be able to exploit if given time.  Revisiting the techniques I learned when I was first taught to touch my awen I mentally probed at the shield, letting my mind glide across the weave.  All I needed was to find a strand that was a little loose, a thread that was a little weaker than the rest.


    After a few minutes, I gave up.  It was solid, an impenetrable force, guarding my awen as securely as a vault guarded its wealth.  It didn''t matter anyway.  Outside were more than a dozen agents, any one of which could bring me down as easily as a great white would an injured seal, even if I had full use of my awen.


    The constant rhythmic ticking of the clock was starting to wear on my nerves when the door finally opened.  A man in his mid-fifties who was just shy of portly walked in.  Tall and broad, he was intimidating despite the bulge around his waist.  He looked like someone who used to be in great shape, but years of sitting behind a desk had allowed a layer of fat to settle over the muscle.  He had short salt and pepper hair and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on a short nose.  Placing a file, notepad, ink pen, and a plastic evidence bag containing the blue phone I''d left in my apartment on the table, he sat down.


    I internally flinched a little when I saw my name printed clearly across the file tab, Desirae Marie Cradle.  There was a time when I wouldn''t have thought twice about it, of course, that was who I was, but now I wasn''t so sure.  Regardless of if that was who I really was or not, the file was thicker than what I thought my sixteen years warranted.  What was all in there?


    "I''m Supervisory Agent Angus Grimes," he said, thumbing open my file. "Can I get you anything before we begin Miss. Cradle?" When he finally looked at me, his eyes were a grayish blue that seemed to pin me to my chair.


    I''d been practically dying for a glass of water earlier, and my mouth and throat felt dry, but I was too nervous to do anything but slightly shake my head.  It was probably for the best.  If I tried to drink anything now, I''d only choke on it anyways.


    "Then let''s get started," he said, flipping open the file. "Last night you made a phone call to this office advising you had information on an illegal crossing.  Is that correct?"


    "Yes." With my phone already in his possession, there was no point in denying it.


    "And how did you come by this information?"


    This was where I''d considered making up a story. I''d concocted and rejected half a dozen on the drive here, but each had snags that would unravel under the right questioning.  I also thought about asking for a deal up front, but how do you ask for immunity from something without admitting what it was first?  Our judicial system wasn''t like the humans you weren''t innocent until proven guilty, there was no jury of your peers, and nothing was off the record or inadmissible.  In the end, I had decided to be a hundred percent truthful, or at least ninety percent.


    "Because I''m the one who made the crossing."


    His back stiffened as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest.  He studied me for a moment before leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "So you''re freely admitting to illegally crossing the veil?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.


    He hadn''t expected me to incriminate myself so quickly.  I could almost hear the gears turning in his head.  If I was so willing to admit to this, what was I trying to cover up?


    "Yes," I said, my voice cracking slightly.  I wanted to slink down in my chair, but I forced myself to sit up, back straight.


    "Do you know that they''re investigating that incident as a terrorist attack?"


    My breath hitched in the back of my throat, and I became light headed as the blood drain from my face.  Suddenly there didn''t seem like there was enough oxygen in the room.  Here they were, investigating me for possible terrorism, and I was about ready to admit to treason as well. I''d be lucky to get life in prison.


    "I swear I didn''t mean any harm," I said my voice quivering while moisture pooled in the corner of my eyes. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    This was definitely far beyond the worst-case scenario I''d imagined.  My mind had been so preoccupied with the shifter that I hadn''t even considered the consequences for what happened in the market.  The Faye and Tuatha governments didn''t get along, but of course, something like this would have been reported.


    "I panicked, and things just got way out of hand." The tears were flowing freely now, and I tried to wipe them away with the tips of my fingers.


    "Seventeen people reportedly injured, several seriously, and you meant no harm?" he said, one eyebrow arching as he tilted his head to the side.


    I sat there sniffling, my fingers pressed to the top of my nose as I tried to stifle the tears.  There was nothing I could say, regardless of my intentions people were hurt, at least he hadn''t mentioned any deaths, I didn''t think I could live with myself if I''d actually killed someone.  Sighing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue handkerchief.  Leaning over, he passed it across the table to me.  He sat silently as I wiped my eyes and nose, giving me a moment to try to regain some composure.


    "What were you doing there?" he asked when my tears had finally subsided.


    "I was there to escort someone across the border."


    "Have you done this before?"


    "Yes, several times."


    "At whose request?"


    "Jason Price." I barely hesitated before giving the name.


    Jason had basically saved my life or at least made it much less perilous when he offered to let me work for him, not that the arrangement was solely or even mainly for my benefit.  Crossing the veil was not a common talent and most of those who could where offered positions working for the Council, some of them for the Vanguard.  The weave itself was considered a state secret, and using it was illegal unless authorized by the Council.


    Giving his name to the authorities was kind of a crappy way to repay him, but it wasn''t like they weren''t already aware of him.  Since I''d been with him, he''d moved his operation twice because the Vanguard was getting a little too close for comfort.  Besides, I partially blamed him for my situation.  After all, I wouldn''t be here if he hadn''t sent me to pick up the shifter in the first place, it was his job to vet the clients, or if I''d had even the slightest confidence that he''d have notified someone himself.  This whole situation was as much his fault as mine.


    "How long have you been working for Mr. Price?" Agent Grimes asked, his pen scratching across the paper.


    I could tell that he was going to start focusing on Jason; after all, he had no reason to think this hadn''t been a regular smuggling job.  I knew he had his questions lined up, a predetermined set meant to extract the most information from me, but there was only one piece of information I had come to give.


    "He was a shifter," I said, interrupting him as he tried to repeat the question.


    He dropped his pen which rolled off the desk and onto the floor.  It would have been comical if I hadn''t just admitted to a treasonous offense.  One that if I was an adult could very well get me bound or executed.  It might still.


    "How do you know?" he asked, after an extended pause as he reached down to retrieve his pen.  I couldn''t suppress a sigh. This was my conversation with Ben all over again.


    I once again went over how I knew he was a shifter, and yes, I did bring him over knowing full well what he was.  He sat in silence, processing what I''d said. He''d probably thought that the incident in Galicia was the big crime here, that the rest was just a low-level smuggling confession; instead, he''d gotten a potential time bomb.


    "I want to know exactly where you brought him through and what he looks like," he said, pushing over the notepad and pen.


    He watched me, his eyes never leaving my face as I quickly scribbled the same map I''d given to Ben along with a description, though I wasn''t sure what use that was when he could look like anyone.


    He snatched up the pad as soon as I stopped writing, only glancing at it for a second before tearing off the sheet and passing the rest of the notepad back to me. "I want dates, times, locations, and descriptions of everyone you''ve brought across," he said, tapping the paper for emphasis. "I also want names and descriptions of your associates.  I hope you understand the gravity of your situation, Miss. Cradle. I expect full cooperation," he finished as he gathered his files and left me alone in the room.  Well, semi-alone, I was sure someone was watching somewhere.


    I quickly started jotting down the info on my jobs.  I had no names, and if people were stupid enough to hang around where I dropped them off, then they deserved to get caught.  I was about halfway through the list when I started to have second thoughts.


    For the last day and a half, I''d done nothing but careen from one bad decision to the next.  Was I about to make yet another one?  From the moment I''d put that shield in place, I''d felt like I''d fallen overboard, adrift in stormy seas, miles from shore with no lifeboat in sight.  I barely knew up from down, and I was one more wave away from drowning.


    With Agent Grimes out of the room, I tried to gather my scattered thoughts, tried to reason instead of react.  Did I really want to just give him this information?  He hadn''t even brought up charges or mentioned a deal.  It would be stupid of me to give up my only leverage without even trying to work something out.  But the Tuatha took nothing more seriously than security.  Our survival depended on every member doing their part, putting the wellbeing of the community above their own.  Our laws aren''t many, but those we have are militantly enforced.  Would it be even worse to try to hold back?  I could just as easily find myself being forced to comply anyway, with no good will to help me afterward.


    I didn''t know what to do.  It seemed like no matter which way I turned there was a pit waiting for me to fall into. I''d spent the last year and a half almost entirely on my own, but I had never felt more alone than at this moment.  I wanted someone who had my best interest at heart to tell me what I should do.  I wanted my mother.


    Chewing on the end of the pen, I flipped back and forth, cooperate or don''t cooperate, for what felt like hours.  Finally, I started writing again, each line coming a little easier than the one before, as I came to terms with the fact that it was already too late to turn back.  In for a penny, in for a pound, at least that''s what I thought the saying was.


    I completed the list of jobs quickly, but the people I worked with was a little harder.  Providing information on them seemed like far more of a betrayal.  Grudgingly I started writing what I knew.  In all truth, I didn''t know that much anyways.  I had only met a few in person and had been given only first names.  Names that might or might not be real.  Even with my crisis of indecision, I was done in about twenty minutes, but it was more than an hour before Agent Grimes returned, accompanied by a slender woman in a tan pantsuit.


    "This is Mrs. Avery with the Magistrate''s office, she has some paperwork for you to sign before we can get things moving," Agent Grimes said as he picked up the pad from the table and started reading over it.


    Mrs. Avery sat down, pulling out a stack of papers from her briefcase. "Alright, Miss. Cradle," she said, pushing the stack towards me. "This is an agreement to drop the treason and the aiding and abetting charges down to delinquent minor and reckless endangerment in return for your full cooperation in all matters concerning your previous criminal conduct.  It also forbids you from discussing any matters relating to those activities with anyone outside of this office." She said, flipping through the first few pages too fast for me to really read what was on them. "You will be placed under the care of a court-appointed guardian until your eighteenth birthday, at which point you will be on probation until your twenty-first birthday.  Failure to comply with the investigation, court guardianship, or probation will result in the reinstatement of the original charges. I''ll need you to initial each page and sign the bottom of the last," she finished, pushing the papers towards me and handed me a pen as if she had no doubt that I would put my signature on the dotted line.


    I could have cried.  She had talked so fast that my head was spinning by the time she was finished, but I understood enough to realize she was offering the life preserver I''d been praying for.  Taking the pen, I made a point of thumbing through the document, trying to skim over the dense paragraphs but they were so full of legal jargon and circular sentences that even if I hadn''t felt pressured to hurry, I would have had little chance of truly understanding what it said.  Warning bells were going off in the back of my head, but I ignored them.  I was a bit suspicious as to why they were offering a deal, one I hadn''t even asked for, but beggars can''t be choosers, and in the end, this was precisely what I''d been hoping for.


    My hand trembled the entire time but fifteen initials and one signature later it was done.  She glanced through to make sure I hadn''t missed one before placing the stack back in her briefcase.  Agent Grimes opened the door to let her out.


    "How did you first make contact with Mr. Price?'' Agent Grimes asked as soon as the attorney left.  He said it as if it was an afterthought, something that had just come to him, but his voice was tight.


    "He found me," I said, shifting a little in my chair, uncomfortable.


    "How did he find you?"


    "I don''t know."


    "So you didn''t know him previously, possibly as an associate of your mother''s?"


    I had thought it was just coincidence. I had occasionally been using my awen to get by out in the human world.  Not enough that any evidence would linger or that anyone not in the immediate area would feel it, just a small bit here and there.  I had always considered it good fortune that Jason had sensed me.  After all, this last year would have gone very differently without him, but now I wasn''t sure.


    "No, I didn''t know him before." I didn''t think he believed me, but he opened the door and motioned for someone in the hall to come in.


    "Agent Vaughn will take it from here," he said, as the blonde from earlier stepped in.


    "You can call me Justin."

 Chapter 7

    Standing, I followed Justin out into the hall, shivering as goosebumps rose up on my arms.  I had grown somewhat accustomed to the sweltering interrogation room, and though the heat was on, the rest of the floor felt downright cold by comparison.  My mind was reeling as we walked back past the open office area.  Everything had happened so fast, like a hit and run, that I was having a hard time wrapping my head around it.  I was glad that I had a deal, ecstatic even, but I couldn''t suppress the suspicions that came with it.  Why?


    Most of the desks were now occupied, and the general noise had increased to a dull roar. This time people did stare.  Conversations dying down to hushed whispers as we passed.  Justin didn''t seem to mind or even notice, but I felt like I was on display.  I had never liked being the center of attention, even under the best of circumstances.  Clutching my arms to my stomach, I kept my eyes on Justin''s back and tried to ignore the tingling between my shoulders.


    He led me into an office, and I let out a heavy sigh as the door closed behind us, the opaque glass providing some protection from the scrutiny.  My purse, coat, and duffel bag were waiting on the desk.  Someone had gotten a chance to practice their tracking skills. I''d left my coat and bag in the car and hadn''t told anyone where I''d parked.


    A tall blonde in a tailored dark blue suit and rose-colored blouse was standing next to the desk thumbing through a file.  She looked up as we entered, her large blue eyes watching us from beneath a set of razor-straight bangs.  The rest of her hair was cut in a short bob, and a pair of two-inch heels brought her within an inch of six feet.


    "This is my partner Emily," Justin introduced, before walking over to the desk.


    "Agent Maher." She stepped forward, offering a pale, slender hand. "I''ll be your main point of contact going forward."


    Her palm was as cold as the eyes that studied me.  I could practically feel them sliding across my skin, inspecting me, judging me.  A small disapproving smirk twitched at the corner of her pink glossed lips.  When her eyes came back to mine, I found myself wanting to look anywhere else.


    "Nice to meet you," I stammered, releasing her hand, my eyes dropping to the floor as I stepped back.


    If Justin noticed the sudden chill in the room, he gave no sign as he passed me my purse and coat before throwing my duffle bag over his shoulder.


    "What''s going to happen to me now?" I asked tentatively.


    We didn''t have much of a foster system.  Though we weren''t immune to disease, our awen, and skilled healers meant that death by any means other than accident or old age was practically unheard of.  In the rare cases where a child was removed from the parents for their own protection, there was usually no shortage of next of kin.  Families tended to stay together, and there was almost always someone around to take them in.  I had no one.


    "For safety reasons, you''re going to be staying with a retired agent," Justin said, heading back towards the door. "Maggie used to run this unit before Grimes took over, you''ll be safe with her," he continued, giving me a reassuring smile as he opened the door.


    "Before we leave, I''m going to need you to pull up your sleeve," Agent Maher said before I could take more than a couple of steps.  Justin gave her a questioning look but didn''t say anything.


    "What for?" I already didn''t care for her, and I had a strong suspicion that she was going to make the full cooperation clause of my deal as difficult as possible.


    "I need to place a bonding ward." She said it so casually that I wasn''t sure I heard her right at first.


    "I''m sorry; what?" I asked, sure she couldn''t have said what I thought she had.


    "I need to put on a bonding ward," she repeated, her voice practically daring me to protest.


    Though not technically illegal in themselves, bonding wards were frowned upon, to the point that they weren''t even taught anymore.  Originally part of wedding ceremonies, they came to be considered too intrusive; binding the two together through magic far more strongly than any vows could.


    With a bonding ward, she would always know where I was.  Not a pinpoint address but a general direction that she could follow no matter how much distance I tried to put between us.  More concerning was that if she were any good at it, which I was sure she was, she would be able to sense my emotions and general state of mind.  The longer the bond remained, the more of me she would have access to, even to the point of hearing my thoughts, though that level of connection took decades to achieve.  With all that was going on, I wasn''t comfortable having someone else that intimately involved.


    She couldn''t do it without my consent.  That would be illegal.  But at this point, could I say no?


    "Is that necessary?" Justin asked, voicing the concern I was too scared to. "Won''t a tracking ward suffice?"


    "She''s already getting to walk out of here like she didn''t just commit multiple felonies, how much more of a break should she get?" She said, walking up to me. "Grimes made me responsible for her, and I''m not comfortable letting her out of my sight without one.  If you have concerns take it up with him, but until then, she''s not leaving this office without a bonding."


    Justin didn''t leave to take it up with Grimes, and he made no further arguments; instead, he just nodded at me to comply.  I wanted to refuse, but I didn''t know what would happen if I did.  Reluctantly I pulled up the left sleeve of my sweater to my elbow and held my arm out.  She grasped it just above my wrist, spreading her long fingers wide.  I watched as the thin blue lines of her awen threaded forth from beneath her fingertips.  They spread across my skin as she guided each line into the pattern of the weave.


    Even though I felt like I was being wholly violated, I couldn''t help but be impressed by her skill.  Not that it was surprising, only the best of us were even considered for the Vanguard.  Not only was each strand of her awen so thin that they sometimes seemed to disappear entirely, but they also moved so quickly and in unison that it was hard to believe that she was consciously guiding each one.


    At first, there was a tickling at the surface like a feather brushing against my skin but as she continued the tingling turned to a burning sensation that became more and more painful as the magic settled deeper and deeper.  Biting back a cry, I tried to focus on the large diamond that sparkled on her ring finger, as pain radiated up to my shoulder.   It only lasted a few seconds, but I was shaking by the time she pulled her hand away and stepped back.  The bond only worked one way, and I could sense nothing other than a lingering discomfort, but she must have been satisfied because she turned to leave without another word.


    The ward left a physical imprint, a web of pale blue lines crossing in an intricate design that covered half my forearm and would remain until she removed it.  Most people wouldn''t even be able to see it, but I could, and I felt like I was branded for all to see.  At least it was in a place that was easy to cover for now, but if it was still there come the summer, I would have to decide if long sleeves, in ninety-degree heat, was worth keeping it hidden, even if I would be mostly hiding it from myself.  Justin waited at the door while I rolled down my sleeve and shrugged into my coat before we both followed Agent Maher out of the office.


    We made our way down to the parking garage and to one of the several black SUVs that were parked along the wall.  I noticed my car at the end of one of the rows, its small tan frame looking decidedly shabby next to the sleek black vehicles beside it.  I was sure my keys weren''t the only thing I would find missing from my purse. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    I could have sworn I''d been in integration for hours, but when the SUV exited the garage, the sun was barely past its apex.  Emily pulled out into traffic, and we drove in silence, the rhythmic hum of the wheels threatening to lull me to sleep.  I thought about asking them to turn on the radio but decided to enjoy the scenery instead. Cracking the window, I rested my forehead against the glass and watched the bright hues of red and orange streak past.


    Fall had always been my favorite time of year, and central Illinois didn''t really have much of one, seeming to go straight from summer to winter over the course of a couple of weeks.  I had missed coastal Virginia, with its mixture of crisp autumn air and sea breeze.  Its temperate climate perfect for sweatshirts and jeans.


    Illinois had its charms, but they were nothing like home.  Usually, I''d be out with my friends trying to enjoy the weeks before winter settled in.  Amber and I would be working in her garden preparing it for hibernation, or I''d be out with Donovan on his family''s sailboat enjoying the brisk sting of ocean spray against our cheeks.  How long had it been since I''d truly done anything just for fun?


    We headed out of town, merging onto the interstate for a few miles.  Traffic was sparse, and it seemed like no time at all before we were exiting and heading down into one of the older, more established neighborhoods.  The tree line street was full of large stately homes and expansive manicured lawns.  We pulled up into the driveway of a three-story dark green Victorian with ivory trim and a wraparound porch. Climbing out of the SUV, a small wave of homesickness washed over me.


    I couldn''t explain why it hit me like that. Our home had been nothing like the house in front of me.  We had lived in a small gray ranch in a much less affluent part of town. Maybe it was the daydreams of better times with my friends that had brought back memories.  I hadn''t realized it at the time, but I''d been so happy.


    Long nights spent helping my mother with her research as she tried to piece together scraps and fragments of lore, crafting them into beautifully detailed stories of Tuatha history.  Those nights were filled with dusty books, pulled from nearly forgotten corners of the library, and frozen pizza, but I had always found myself caught up in her excitement as the tales of romance and intrigue sprang to life.


    She had loved the people we had been, with their myth and mystery.  When she finished each book, the weeks of work were always followed by celebration; fancy dinners and weekend trips.  The evenings of research replaced by ice-cream and movie marathons until the next inspiration struck her.  Those memories were now shrouded in so much doubt that I''d purposely pushed them from my mind for the past year.  Refusing to revisit what my life had been.


    The night I left, I had told myself I couldn''t go back.  That it would be the first place they''d look for me but I had also been worried about what I would find.  Evidence of what had brought the Vanguard crashing into our home and our lives.  The evidence that led them to look into Carolyn and Desirae Cradle and discover that they only existed on paper.  With no more substance than the characters in her books.  I had never gone back there.  Was it abandoned, our stuff still sitting there, gathering dust in memorial of the lives that used to be or had another family moved in displacing any evidence that this Carolyn Cradle had ever existed?


    Pushing the thoughts aside, I went to the rear of the SUV to grab my bag, but Justin waved me off.  I followed Agent Maher up to the porch instead.  An older woman with soft grey hair pulled back into a bun and a pleasantly lined face, opened the door before we reached the top step.


    "Emily, it''s so good to see you, dear," she said, giving Agent Maher a tight hug.


    "Good to see you too." Emily smiled, returning the hug with genuine warmth. I''d kind of been hoping she was a naturally cold person and it wasn''t just me she seemed to have a problem with.


    "And you must be Desirae," she said, offering a warm, calloused hand. "You can call me Maggie.  Come in both of you," she said, stepping back from the door and ushering us into a large foyer.


    Justin followed close behind, and she gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek after he deposited my bag on the floor.  She invited them to sit down for some tea, but Agent Maher insisted that they needed to get back to the office.  They bustled out as quickly as they''d arrived, leaving me alone with their former supervisor.


    "What about you dear, would you like some tea?" she asked once they left.


    I would have loved some tea, but I knew I wouldn''t be able to keep my eyes open much longer.  After driving all night and then the stress of the interrogation, I could feel sleep dragging at my eyelids.


    "Well, let''s get you settled then," she said, patting my shoulder.


    Grabbing my duffle and purse, I followed her upstairs, the broad wooden steps creaking slightly beneath our weight.


    "I''ve spruced up one of the guest rooms, but you can choose one of the others if you''d like." She swung open the first door on the left.  I instantly knew that I would have no desire to switch.


    The floors were the same light-colored hardwood that seemed to run throughout the entire house, and the room was furnished with the kind of pieces you know got passed down from generation to generation.  A four-posted bed sat against one wall its dark gray comforter matching the curtains and complementing the pale lavender of the walls. A matching dresser and nightstand, made of the same heavy dark wood as the bed, completed the look.


    It was all lovely, but the jewel that caught my eye was the large bay window with a bench that looked out over the backyard.  As I stepped further in, I could see that it had an incredible view of a large flower garden that seemed to be dominated by roses.  With the mild fall, some of the flowers were still in bloom, providing bright splashes of color.


    "This is perfect, thank you," I said, hoping my voice conveyed my absolute gratitude.


    "Your welcome dear," she said with a smile. "There''s a private bath through there." She pointed to a door on the left. "I''m going to give you some space so you can get comfortable.  The stairs can be hard on my knees, so my room is downstairs past the sitting room if you need anything. We''ll go over the rules after dinner; which will be at five thirty." With that, she was gone.


    I''m not sure what I had expected exactly, certainly not this. I''d gotten reasonably good at reading people, and if her pleasantness was just a show, then she was a world-class actress.  I couldn''t help but feel this was all a mistake that the floor was going to drop out from beneath me at any moment.  The axiom of too good to be true kept encroaching on my peace of mind.


    It only took me a few minutes to unpack, all my clothes fitting into one drawer.  A quick check of my purse showed that not only were my keys missing, but the envelope of money was as well.  It wasn''t a surprise, ill-gotten gains and all, but it was still disheartening.  I was mildly surprised to see that my debit card and ID were still in my wallet but who knew if they had left my account untouched.  Sighing, I placed my purse on the nightstand.


    I thought about sitting at the window seat to take in some of the sun''s rays, but my eyes felt heavy, and I knew I''d be asleep before I could actually enjoy it.  An alarm clock sat on the nightstand, and I set it for five before laying down on top of the covers.  I drifted off the moment my head hit the pillow.


    A warm wet bump against my forehead woke me before the alarm.  Opening my eyes, I jumped when I saw a pink nose only inches from my face and a pair of violet eyes staring at me.  I barely had time to register that it was a rather large cat before a streak of white darted off the bed and through the cracked door.


    Glancing at the clock, I still had ten minutes, but it wasn''t worth laying back down.  Reaching over, I turned off the alarm.  I got up and made my way downstairs.  The delicious smells of garlic and bread had my stomach growling before I reached the last step.  Mac and cheese and ramen had been dietary staples far more often than I cared to admit, and the wonderful aromas of real food made my mouth water.  Maggie was standing at the stove humming along to a golden oldies station, stirring a large pan of marinara while a pot of noodles boiled next to it.


    "Can I help with anything?" I asked, trying to stifle a yawn as I walked into the brightly lit kitchen.


    "You can set the table if you like.  Plates are over there on the left and silverware in the drawer below," she said, pointing to a couple of white cabinets with silver handles.


    I found everything easily.  A few minutes later, the table was set, and we were sitting down to the best meal I''d had since leaving home. I''d been too nervous to eat anything earlier and much to my embarrassment I practically inhaled two servings of pasta and three slices of bread not to mention a large salad with a tangy Italian vinaigrette.


    ¡°Would you like the last piece of garlic bread?" Maggie pushed the plate towards me with a laugh.


    After already stuffing myself silly I should have said no but I greedily reached for the slice, after all, no use letting good food go to waste.  By the time we were done, I was wishing that I''d been wearing a larger sized pair of jeans.  After dinner, we talked for a bit, mostly about the rules.  It was nothing I hadn''t expected, curfew, chores, and various other restrictions, though it was going to be weird going from being on my own with practically unlimited freedom to basically being under house arrest.  It wasn''t even eight when I headed back upstairs and even after taking an afternoon nap; I had no problem falling back to sleep.

 Chapter 8

    I couldn¡¯t suppress a groan as Maggie followed a line of vehicles through a set of iron gates and down the winding drive to Brennen Academy, her white Cadillac standing out like a neon sign among the Toyotas, Fords, and other low to mid-range cars the students drove.  It was about fifteen minutes before morning bell, and the grounds seemed to swarm with people.  Starring out the tinted window, I tried to push down the impending sense of doom that was slowly creeping in.


    When we''d gone over the rules last night, going back to school had been one of them ¡ª an unwelcome prospect but not a surprise.  I couldn''t hang around Maggie''s house for the next couple years until I turned eighteen, and homeschool wasn¡¯t really a viable option, though I¡¯d considered bringing it up.  Returning to school was a dreadful inevitability that I would eventually have to deal with, I just hadn¡¯t expected it to happen so soon.


    I''d gone to bed thinking I¡¯d have at least a few days to work up to it.  Instead, I''d woken up to Maggie rapping on my door with the good news that Principal Himura had called and was able to meet with us before school this morning to get me reenrolled.  I had more than a few choice words about her good news, but I said them under my breath as I struggled to get ready.


    Being on my own had turned me into a night owl, and even with plenty of sleep, neither my body nor my mind were accustomed to having to function so early.  Thirty minutes later, with my hair still damp and only the basics of makeup applied, I¡¯d made it downstairs surprised to find breakfast waiting for me in the kitchen.  I tried to make excuses, pleading for just a few more days to mentally prepare, but Maggie would have none of it, and I found myself practically being dragged to the car.


    It''s not that I had bad memories of this place, quite the opposite.  The campus was beautiful.  Less than ten minutes from the city, it sat behind a black iron gate on five heavily wooded acres.  The main building was a two-story U-shaped structure with administrative offices and the elementary classes in the front, while the Junior High and High school occupied the other two wings.  Behind the main structure stood two smaller buildings that served as male and female dorms for the students who needed boarding.


    All the structures were the same; dark gray brick, white columns, and high arching windows.  It was a stunning example of the colonial style that was so popular when it was built nearly three centuries ago when Arthur Brennan and the other founders established the first Tuatha community in the new world.  The first Tuatha community anywhere in more than four thousand years.  Of course, it had been a manor back then, not a private school.


    It wasn''t just the atmosphere of the school that I loved; I had thoroughly enjoyed the academics as well.  Brennan Academy excelled in all the standard fields, and their choice of electives and extracurriculars were extensive, especially considering its size.  And then there were the classes that would never show up on any transcripts, the ones that taught you how to access your awen and use magic.  I had loved going here, and the school had always felt like a second home to me, at least until that horrible day when my mom disappeared, and my life fell apart.


    ¡°Hey, chin up,¡± Maggie glanced over at me, shifting the car into park.  ¡°I know it¡¯s hard coming back like this, but it¡¯s for the best, you¡¯ll see,¡± she continued, reaching over to pat my knee before climbing out.


    Snorting, I hopped out, grabbed my bag, and slammed the door shut a little harder than I¡¯d intended. Sorry, I mouthed when Maggie cast me a reprimanding glance before turning to head inside.  Slinging my purse onto my shoulder, I followed, my feet dragging with every step.


    Maggie ignored the stares and murmurs as she walked up the steps and through the front doors.  I couldn¡¯t do the same.  Though I didn¡¯t look up, I found myself listening to the quiet voices, straining to make out what they were saying.  More than once, I thought I heard someone say my name.  Hunching my shoulders, I hurried to follow Maggie inside.


    Just a couple of days ago I was sure I would never set foot in this place again.  Walking through the crowded hall, I couldn''t help but remember the last time I''d walked this path, albeit in the opposite direction, with two agents flanking me and the hushed whispers of the other students at my back.  This time, instead of the thud of sturdy boots, it was the sharp click of Maggie''s heels echoing off the rows of red metal lockers, that accompanied me, but the whispers were still there.


    Staring at Maggie¡¯s back, I couldn¡¯t help feeling a little resentful.  Was this some form of punishment, a kind of walk of shame?  All we had to do was arrive twenty minutes later, and everyone would have been in class.


    "Can I help you?" the secretary asked as we walked into the Administrative Office.


    "Maggie Donley and Desirae Cradle to see Principal Himura," Maggie said.


    "Of course, right this way."  We followed her down a short hall towards the back where she ushered us into a large dimly lit office.


    "Nice to see you," Principle Himura said, standing and reaching over the desk to shake Maggie''s hand.  "Please have a seat," she said, indicating the two chairs arranged in front of her desk.


    Mrs. Himura had been the principal when I¡¯d left, but I''d never had much contact with her, and this was my first visit to her office.  It was everything her reputation suggested it would be.  A large dark wood desk dominated the center of the space, while several massive bookshelves, their contents meticulously arranged, lined the walls.  Nearly every inch of wall was filled with plaques and certificates, perfectly spaced and aligned as if someone had gone around the room with a ruler to make sure they weren''t even a centimeter out of alignment.


    Three black and white scrolls with sweeping Japanese calligraphy hung across from her desk and were the only ornamentation in the room.  There were two large windows, but heavy curtains drawn tight completely blocked the morning sun.  A single desk lamp provided the only source of light, making the room dim to the point of gloomy.  The low lighting and overpowering furniture made the room feel claustrophobic, almost suffocating.


    The woman behind the desk was every bit as rigid as her office.  Straight bangs made a sharp line across her brow while the rest of her black hair was pulled back into a tight twist. Red glasses that matched her perfectly tailored suit rested on a small, slightly upturned nose, framing large dark brown eyes.  Pulling her laptop closer Mrs. Himura¡¯s red manicured fingers flew across the keyboard, her computer screen springing to life with what I could only assume was my academic career.  I sat there, speaking only when asked a direct question while the two women discussed my future.


    Prior to running away, I had been a good student, an excellent student actually.  I''d taken extra classes in junior high, and during my freshman year, I¡¯d participated in the advanced placement program that was set up so that I would be able to take some college classes during my junior and senior years.  I had wanted to be a teacher, history or English perhaps, but that dream had seemed so far off for so long now that I¡¯d completely given up on it.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    My prior academic rigor was what ended up saving me.  After about thirty minutes, they had worked out a schedule that if I adhered to it perfectly, would have me graduating on time with the rest of my class.  I would need to take a couple of mandatory sophomore classes, and summer school was a definite, but it was doable.  I would still barely make the minimum course credits to graduate, but at least I would graduate.


    To my relief, the hallways were practically empty by the time we left Mrs. Himura''s office; my new class schedule clutched in my hand.


    "You''re going to be fine," Maggie said, taking the already crumpled paper from my fingers and smoothing it out.  "Just keep your head down and work hard," she continued, handing it back.


    That was easier said than done.  I hadn''t been a popular student before, but I hadn¡¯t been a social pariah either.  I''d occupied that pleasantly safe middle ground, where I had a couple of close friends but was on good terms with pretty much everyone, and that was the problem.  I hadn''t been an unknown.  I knew practically everyone in my class by name, and they knew me, not that that was unusual for a school our size.  From the earlier whispering, I¡¯d already been recognized.  There was bound to be questions, rumors; simply keeping my head down might not be an option.  I didn¡¯t voice my concerns to Maggie; there was nothing she could do about them anyway.


    Maggie promised she would be back to pick me up at three.  Saying goodbye, I went in search of my locker.  I kept my eyes glued to the floor, refusing to make eye contact with the few students I passed in the hall.  I hadn''t thought about what I was going to tell people; if anyone was bold enough to ask, and I didn''t want anyone feeling invited into a conversation I wasn''t ready for.


    Luckily my first class was a mandatory English II.  Not only was English my second favorite subject, language fascinated me with all its nuances and complexity, but it was also a sophomore level class.  I had run at the end of my freshman year, which meant everyone in the class would have been in junior high when I left.


    With the junior high and high school each having their own wings there wasn''t much mixing between the upper and lower classman, and it was doubtful that anyone here would know my name let alone recognize me.  To my relief, Mr. Mansell didn''t make me stand at the front of the class and introduce myself, instead, he just handed me a textbook and directed me to an empty seat near the back.  Several of the students watched as I took my place, but they were the curious looks that any new student would receive.


    The rest of the morning passed without incident.  There were a few people I recognized but none that I had been particularly close with.  A couple of students did a double take when they first saw me, but no one said anything directly to me, and the whispering died down pretty quick.  I don''t know if it was because of the circumstances of my departure, but the other teachers followed Mr. Mansell''s example.  None of them had me do the cursory introductions that most new students had to suffer through, so I remained pleasantly anonymous and under the radar.  I was feeling pretty good about how things were going until the bell rang for lunch.


    Stepping into the cafeteria, a wave of clatter and voices greeted me.  I hadn''t recently spent a lot of time in crowds, living alone and mostly working alone, and the whole experience was a bit overwhelming, and I could feel myself growing tense.  I considered skipping lunch, and just sitting in one of the empty study halls, but I knew it wouldn''t be any easier tomorrow or the next day.  Better to get it out of the way.


    Picking up my tray, I worked my way through the lunch line, selecting a chicken sandwich and carrot sticks with ranch dip.  Weaving through the cafeteria, I ignored the glances as I searched out an empty table.  With the beautiful weather still holding, several students were eating outside, and there was plenty to choose from.  I passed by the ones towards the middle of the room and headed to the back.  I was already feeling exposed, and I didn''t want to be sitting in the middle of a room full of people.  Setting my tray down, I sat with my back to the wall.  Biting into a carrot, I studied the faces in the room, looking for two in particular.


    There were two people I had been equal parts excited and terrified to see again, one a little more than the other.  I had to scan the room twice before I spotted one of them.  My eyes had brushed entirely over her the first time and would have missed her the second as well if she hadn''t turned to speak to the girl sitting next to her just as I focused on their table.  I dropped my head down so as not to be caught staring, but she didn¡¯t look my way.


    It was amazing how much a person could change in a little over a year.  The halo of dark curls Amber used to have had been shaved to a quarter inch of peach fuzz and her messy oversized clothes were now fitted designs that drew your eyes to her tall, athletic frame.  She was sitting with a group of girls I recognized from the junior varsity volleyball team, at least they''d been JV; they must be the varsity team now.  Had she joined?  They seemed to be close, laughing, and talking.  Amber had always been good at sports, her height giving her a natural advantage, but she had never had the confidence to try out for anything, no matter how much her family or I encouraged her to do so.


    I don''t know what I''d hoped to see.  Maybe some evidence that she had been as lost without me as I''d been without her.  Some visible sign that she would be as eager to resume our friendship as I was.  But that wasn''t the case.  She seemed relaxed and happy, much more at ease with a crowd than she''d ever been before. She laughed at something the girl next to her said, and a slight pang of jealousy clouded my mind; she''d been my friend first.


    I was glad that she was happy, I really was, but I couldn''t help the tiny ball of despair that settled in my stomach.  There was no reason for me to expect things to go back to the way they were, for her to take me back with open arms and forgive me.  I had virtually abandoned her.  Not so much as a call or even an email or letter.


    I¡¯d been ashamed of what happened.  Unsure of myself, my head spinning from the loss of my mother and my identity, I couldn''t bring myself to take the first step.  To reach out and make contact, contact that I feared might bring the authorities down on me even though I knew she would never intentionally betray me.  Then too much time had passed, and I eventually convinced myself that a clean break was best for everyone.  After all, it''s not like I was ever coming back.


    I sat watching the small group, hoping that maybe she would look up.  That we would make eye contact, even if only for a second, just enough for me to gauge if there was a chance.  A few of the girls she was sitting with shot occasional glances my way, but she never did, and before I knew it the lunch period ended.  I waited until most of the other students had filed out before I got up and dumped my mostly uneaten tray into the garbage.


    The rest of the day didn¡¯t go nearly as well as my morning had, but it wasn¡¯t disastrous either, just uncomfortable.  Most of my afternoon classes were junior level, and I recognized quite a few people.  They stared, and they whispered, but no one approached me.  I focused on the lecture and did my best to put the other students out of my mind.


    Amber wasn''t in any of my classes, and I wasn¡¯t sure if I was grateful or not.  Before I would have been bummed to not have a single class with her, but I was scared that if we actually bumped into each other, she would make it clear that she wanted nothing to do with me.  I didn''t know if I could handle her flat-out rejection.  I managed to make it through the rest of my classes though I can''t say I remembered much of anything.


    Relief washed over me when the final bell rang.  I stopped by my locker long enough to throw my books onto the shelf and grab my coat and bag before practically sprinting out the front doors.  I hadn''t realized how confined, and claustrophobic I''d felt until the fresh air and sunlight hit my skin.  Taking a deep breath, I glanced around the parking lot looking for my ride.  My eyes settled on a familiar vehicle, and my fragile bubble of serenity instantly burst.  Instead of Maggie''s white Cadillac, a black SUV was waiting for me, the silhouette of a tall blonde barely visible through the tinted glass.

 Chapter 9

    Agent Maher sat in the driver''s seat, her fingers drumming on the black leather steering wheel.


    "I thought Maggie was picking me up," I said, throwing my bag in the back before climbing into the passenger side, not even trying to hide the disappointment in my voice.  Another rule was that Maggie would be taking me to and from school, and if I wasn''t in school, I was supposed to be at her house or antique store.


    Agent Maher didn''t answer, barely waiting for me to close the door before pulling away from the curb.  Grumbling under my breath, I quickly locked the seatbelt into place as we pulled out of the parking lot.  It was warm for November, mid-sixties with the sun shining.  I started to roll down the window to enjoy the fresh air, but she immediately hit the primary control and rolled it back up.


    She apparently wasn''t any happier about picking me up than I was, so I didn''t bother asking any questions that would have probably been ignored anyway.  Why couldn''t they have put Justin in charge of me?  I was still a little irked about the whole emotional manipulation thing but was far nicer and preferable to her.  There was no point wishing. Instead, I rested my head against the cool glass and resigned myself to another awkwardly silent car ride.  What did these people have against turning on the radio?


    Instead of going home or to Maggie''s shop we headed downtown to the Consulate building.  I started to feel a little nervous when she pulled the SUV into the underground garage.  Why were we coming here?  Had something happened?  Were they reneging on my deal?  My palms were sweating as we took the elevator up to the seventh floor.  My anxiety rising with each passing level.  When we exited the elevator, I was led the same way Justin had taken me yesterday, but instead of the interrogation room, I was directed into a large conference room.  The bald agent from yesterday was there, sitting in the back corner, along with a cute little redhead.


    "I''ll be back at nine," Agent Maher said, before walking out the door without another word.  Nine?  What was I going to be doing for the next five and a half hours?  The other two agents glanced at each other but didn''t say anything as she left.


    "Well, I''m Agent Conway," the redhead said, quickly trying to recover from Agent Maher''s abrupt exit. "You can call me Tish," she said, walking across the room to take my hand. "I believe you''ve already met Agent Tolbert," she said, nodding back to the older agent.


    "You can call me Sir," he said, giving me a slight nod from his chair.


    "He''s joking; you can call him Eurie," Tish said, shooting him a look over her shoulder.


    "Yeah, nice to meet you," I said, shaking her hand.  At barely five foot, even with heels, Tish took petite to a whole new level.  I know the Vanguard put a strong emphasis on magical aptitude over physical abilities, but she still seemed out of place, like a child sneaking a seat at the adult''s table. "Why am I here?"


    "Emily didn''t tell you?  What a surprise," she said, rolling her eyes. "She could have saved us some time by explaining. It''s not like she had anything else to do on the drive here."


    "She doesn''t seem to care for me much," I said, with a shrug.  I tried to keep my voice light like it didn''t bother me, but it did bother me, a lot. I''d never actually had someone blatantly dislike me before.


    "Well, unfortunately, you''re going to have to get used to it. She''s not likely to change her attitude any time soon. Emily''s by the book and a more than a little on the intense side.  Planning for her wedding on top of everything else that''s going on isn''t helping matters." Tish said as she pulled out a chair and directed me to sit down. "She thinks they''re letting you off too easy, and she''s not the only one." Tish said, in a way that made me unsure if she was speaking in general or if she shared Maher''s feelings and was just a little better at hiding it.


    "Oh," was all I could say as I sat down.


    "Don''t worry about it.  Lucky for you, lucky for all of us, she doesn''t get to make the decisions around here. Justin''s the only one who really has to listen to her.  I don''t see how he does it, but they seem to get along well enough." She continued almost rambling as she took the seat next to me.


    "Can we get started already?" Eurie called out from the corner. "She''s not here for gossip."


    Tish shot him a dirty look, and I half expected her to stick out her tongue, but she didn''t. "He didn''t have to say it like that, but he''s right," she said, turning back to me. "You''re not here for office politics." She said with a short laugh. "You''re here to practice with reading weaves." She said, clapping her hands together like she just announced we were going to Disney World or something.


    "Reading weaves?" I asked, not nearly as enthused by the prospect as she was. "I didn''t show any talent for readings."


    Everything in existence, whether living or nonliving had an energy force, residing in it.  We called it awen and our gifts revolved around the ability to manipulate our awen to affect ourselves and the world around us.  Most Tuathan''s abilities centered on one of four categories.


    The most extensive and basic was natural magic, using your awen to enhance or detract from the world around you.  Taking energy from water would turn it to ice, adding energy to a storm front could turn it into a hurricane.  It could also be used to enhance the natural properties of plants and minerals. Using lavender infused soap would typically make you no luckier in love than if you''d used a bar of Dial but if a skilled Tuathan apothecary had enhanced that lavender, well then, you could find yourself literally beating potential love prospects off with a stick.


    Though the purest form of magic, there were no weaves to memorize or any real skill required, natural magic also held the most potential danger.  Adding or removing a significant amount of energy results in imbalances, and if you didn''t know how to account for them adequately, there could be disastrous results.  Adding too much energy and having an out of control storm was obvious, but removing energy was just as dangerous.  Whatever you removed had to go somewhere.  If you didn''t dispose of it properly, it could attach itself to another energy system, causing all kinds of damage.


    The second category was spellcraft.  Instead of directly using your awen to enhance or diminish what was already there, spells used your awen to create their own effect.  My marbles were part of this ¡ª each one, carrying a spell for wind.  Spells were created by manipulating your awen into a particular pattern or what we called a weave.  Spellcraft was extensive with volumes of books depicting thousands of weaves filling the library and those deemed too dark or dangerous for common use were kept securely locked in the archives or the vault itself.


    The two rarest categories where augmentation and empathic.  Augmentation allowed you to use your awen to enhance your own physical attributes; strength, stamina, agility.  It could help you see in the dark or recover from injuries quicker.  Empathic was basically the same thing except you did it for another.  While it was mostly used for healing, it also included mental manipulation, though like crossing the veil, any mental manipulation was considered illegal unless authorized by the Council.


    Technically any Tuatha could do almost anything; some aspects just come more naturally than others.  Someone who had a talent with water could freeze over an entire lake for the same amount of awen I would use to chill a glass of water while someone who was skilled in augmentation could enhance their strength to the point of lifting a bus where someone else might be able to bench an additional ten pounds.  Rarely was anyone left entirely out of any skill set, and no one excelled in all aspects either.


    Like everyone else, I''d taken the aptitude tests during my freshman year.  It had been a wholly disheartening experience.  I remembered going home, crying afterward. I''d shown absolutely zero aptitude in natural magic, which I had never heard of happening before.  It was the most rudimentary of our abilities, but my awen was unable to interact at even the most basic level.  I didn''t test high for any of the other categories either.  In fact, I scored abysmally low for everything except spell crafting which I received moderate to low scores, and I only got the moderate thanks to the fact that I could make most of the weaves even though many of them were too weak to do much.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    The only things I did test high for was secondary skills.  I had an awen signature that allowed me to cross the veil, but that was genetics, not talent, and I had what we called sight, the ability to see other''s awen when they were using it.  Most Tuatha were blind to an others awen, they wouldn''t even know a weave was there until it was activated, but I could see it.  It made learning weaves ten times easier since I could actually watch them being drawn rather than memorizing from books, but that wasn''t much of a benefit since I couldn''t use the majority of them.  It did have its advantages though.  Having the sight had saved me more than once on my trips to Otherworld.  Being able to see security wards before you actually tripped them was a huge bonus.


    Everything else had come from hard work, practice, and knowing and accepting my limitations.  I pre-staged my spell weaves on things like marble and buttons so that I could spend the extra time and energy on them to make them work.  That way, when I did need them, it was just a matter of adding a little energy to activate them.  I had practiced my shielding incessantly for weeks until forming the weave no longer felt like wrestling with a bunch of oil-slicked snakes.  Patience and finesse made up where I lacked real strength and natural talent.


    "We''ve already looked at your test results and though reading might not be one of your stronger abilities," Tish said, the corner of her lips slightly twitching as if she was trying to suppress a smile. "You are capable of forming the weave. We''re not going to be doing anything large scale or in-depth here, just basic readings of individuals.¡±


    "And why do I need to practice readings?" I knew I wasn''t going to like the answer.  The Vanguard had their own readers, of which I was sure Tish was one, why did they need me.


    "Delegates from the Faye Courts are coming this weekend.  They wanted to be on neutral territory to begin negotiations of a treaty.  It all kicks off with a formal banquet Friday night. That will be the only part of the negotiations open to the public.  The timing seems a little too coincidental.  There are concerns that the shifter might be here to assassinate one of the treaty members.  If he is, then the party will be an ideal opportunity."


    I had overheard a little about this on some of my recent trips to Otherworld over the last few months.  The two Faye Courts had been in varying stages of hostility since they were first exiled.  Never open warfare but definitely strained relations that sometimes deteriorated into minor border skirmishes.  Over the last few months, it seemed like every town I went through there was talk of putting old grievances aside and forming an alliance of some kind.  There had been whispers about the wilds, untamed areas of Otherworld, growing out of control, and that a united front was needed.


    Otherworld had not been uninhabited when the Faye were first forced into exile there.  Though nothing could be considered truly sentient there were magically advanced lifeforms, many of them not friendly.  While the Faye had moved in and tamed most of the land, small patches of feral territory still remained.  Dark places full of unfettered energies. The talk was that they''d been growing worse recently, darker in some ways, and despite all efforts, they were starting to spread back into the areas that had been previously cleared by the Faye. I''d only been near one once when Ben was training me, and the unnatural sense of foreboding that seeped from its borders had caused the hair on my arms to stand on end.  We were probably a quarter of a mile away, and we only stayed for a few minutes, but that was more than enough for me.


    "Since it would be nearly impossible to shield everyone involved in order to identify the shifter, even if the delegates would agree to it, which they won''t, we''re going to need to try to identify him through a reading," Tish continued. "Since you''re the only one who has had contact, and knows what he feels like, you''re going to have to perform them."


    "Why would the Council agree to hold the meeting here?" It seemed like such a patently bad idea.  I know I was a little more up on Faye politics than most, political upheaval was the primary driver for Jason''s business and he considered it essential for all of his smugglers to be up on current events to avoid complications, but certainly not more than the Council.


    I know she said they wanted neutral ground, but this seemed like an unnecessary risk, the Faye hated us even more than they hated each other.  They considered us tainted not only by the betrayal of our ancestors, when they fled instead of resisting but because of the mixing of our blood with humans.  Our refusal to let them cross the Tear back into this world only further stoked their hatred.  It was suspicious that they even requested to have the meeting here.


    The Faye were stronger than us, significantly so in some cases.  The only thing that had kept them from forcing their way through the Tear already was their mutual distrust of each other and that the Tear was a bottleneck, so narrow that two men walking side by side risked accidentally stepping into the veil.  The death of a high-ranking official on either side might be the incentive they needed to put their quarrels aside and finally risk a forced invasion.


    I had wondered why they''d offered a deal so quickly before I''d even asked for one, and here it was.  Plans for the meeting would have been in the works for months, and when I mentioned the shifter, Agent Grimes must have recognized the potential disaster immediately.  Though I could have been forced into giving the information I knew, he couldn''t have made me do this. They''d needed my cooperation as much as I''d needed their deal.


    "I only felt it for a few minutes while I was making the shield," I objected, rubbing the back of my neck, my mouth suddenly dry. "I don''t think I could necessary recognize it again."


    Each person''s awen has a specific pattern like a fingerprint, but like fingerprints, the differences could be so minute as to be almost indistinguishable.  I remembered that it had felt particularly violent, but that could have been due to the situation we had found ourselves in as much as anything else.  Beyond that, I hadn''t been paying a lot of attention to how his awen had felt; there had been other more pressing things on my mind.


    "Well we have limited options, and they''re not willing to cancel the summit, so we''re going to need you to try," Tish said, patting my arm as if reassuring a child. "Don''t worry; this isn''t definite. Grimes'' is on the fence about this plan, and both Justin and Amanda think it''s a bad idea.  You might not even have to do anything.  This is just in case."


    I''d been shown a basic reading pattern during my testing but the one Tish formed was far more complex than the one I had attempted.  It helped that Tish had the sight as well, and she guided me as I tried making my own weave.  Nerves and inexperience worked against me, and my pattern fell apart several times before I was finally able to get the last thread in place.  It was a little messy compared to the one Tish had made, but it was functional, and that in itself seemed like an achievement.


    I was a little upset when she told me to release it and try again.  It took three more attempts before I had one up to her standards.  Finally satisfied Tish walked me around the office so I could practice on the other agents.  Most seemed okay with the exercise, though more than a few gave Tish an exasperated look before grudgingly agreeing to be a guinea pig.


    My weaving was a little shaky at first, more often than not, sliding off before I got a good read but after an hour or so I at least had that part down.  It was the recognition that was the problem.  Like I''d feared, everyone just felt too similar.  There were a few outliers here and there but most felt exactly the same or close enough that I wasn''t sure that I honestly felt a difference.


    From my time smuggling I knew that the Faye felt distinctly different from us, their awen had a wild, violent feel to it, but just like all the people in the room felt similar, the Faye felt similar to each other.  I wasn''t sure I could pick out the difference that would name the shifter from any other Faye guest and if they were looking to bolster relations having me call out everyone as a shifter wasn''t going to help any more than having someone assassinated would.


    After going through the office, Tish had me sit in the conference room with my back to the door while she brought people into the room.  It was harder than I would have thought to direct my weave when I couldn''t see where I was sending it, but once I made contact, I was still hit or miss on whether I got an accurate reading or not.  Even after having read some of these people only moments before, identification was under twenty-five percent, and that was with less than two dozen people to choose from, and a few of those positive IDs felt a little too much like guesses.


    We practiced for hours, Tish having to occasionally supplement my awen with her own as my energy began to wane.  As we worked, the room grew hotter and hotter, until it was nearly stifling from all the energy being expended.  I could feel sweat beginning to gather in unpleasant places. I''d removed my sweater a while ago, but I still needed to pull the damp fabric of my t-shirt away from my chest.  As the room grew hotter, so did the tempers, with more than one person grumbling about a waste of time when I once again identified them wrong.


    By the time Tish finally called it quits, I felt shaky, and a headache was throbbing right behind my eyes.  I and my awen were exhausted.  Agent Maher had returned over an hour before, but Tish had waved her off insisting we could still get a little more practice in and she would take me home afterward.  She was in no way satisfied with my proficiency or lack thereof, but she realized that I wasn''t physically able to continue.  I could barely keep my eyes open while Tish kept up a steady stream of conversation as we drove.  I felt utterly drained; it almost made me wish for the awkward silence Agent Maher provided.


    "I have a present for you.  For all your hard work," she chirped when we finally pulled into Maggie''s driveway.  Throwing the vehicle in park, she reached into her bag and pulled out a clear plastic evidence bag.  In my groggy state, it took me a moment to realize that the blue plastic thing inside was my cell phone. "It was cleared by evidence this morning." Tish said, handing over the bag. "Now don''t think we''re not going to keep tabs on this.  Everyone in the unit has your number, and you''ll be required to hand it over for inspection whenever any of us ask for it."


    It was another reminder of how little freedom I currently had, but I didn''t care.  This small bit of autonomy was enough for now.  By the time I drug myself upstairs, I barely had the energy to change into my pajamas before sprawling out on the bed.

 Chapter 10

    The next couple of days flew by in a blurry haze of anxiety and exhaustion.  School was okay.  I wasn''t too far behind in my classes, minus a few yearlong projects I would need to catch up on, and though I was clearly a point of interest among the other students, no one had yet had the courage to approach me, including Amber.  Conversations would suddenly stop when I walked by only to be replaced by hushed whispers and side long glances once I passed, but that was it.  Not that I truly expected much different.  We had a few groups that didn''t always get along, but for the most part, everyone was pretty non-confrontational. They''d rather talk behind your back than approach you directly.


    I tried to follow Maggie''s advice and keep my head down, ignoring what was going on around me, and concentrate on my studies.  I did attempt a couple of times to catch Amber''s eye in the hall or cafeteria, but she refused even to look my way.  By this time, it was obvious it was intentional; there was no way she could have missed that I was back.


    It hurt, a lot, but it was probably for the best, or that¡¯s what I kept telling myself.  My deal swore me to secrecy about what I''d been doing for the past year, not that I was eager to tell her anyways, and I didn''t want to have to lie to her about it, not when the trust already wasn''t there.  Donovan, the other person I was hoping to see, had been a no show all week.  I was curious and worried, but there was no one I felt comfortable asking about him.  So other than Amber''s apparent indifference and Donovan seemingly missing in action things were going as well as could be expected, at least on the school front.


    My time with the Vanguard wasn''t going nearly as well and was the reason I felt like I was sleepwalking through my days.  Tish worked me until I was ready to drop. We''d stop for a quick bite to eat around six, and that was it.  By the time she drove me home, I felt rung out, emotionally and physically, barely making it to my bed before collapsing.


    For the most part, I liked practicing with Tish, trying new things, pushing myself.  While working for Jason, I had tended to rely on the same few tricks to get me by.  I wasn''t used to struggling like this, and though I enjoyed the challenge, it got frustrating at times, even more so for Tish.  Trying to bring my reading skills up to at least passible levels was proving more difficult than she had expected, and tempers were running high on both sides.


    "You''re being sloppy with your perimeter again," Tish said, for what felt like the millionth time.


    Frustrated, I dropped the entire weave. "I''m sorry, but I''m tired." I could hear the wine in my voice as I sank back down into the chair.  Crossing my arms on the table, I laid my head down between them, grateful for the cool wood against my forehead.


    Tomorrow was the banquet, so tonight was our last practice, and Tish had suddenly decided that we needed to take a different approach.  I pretty much had the individual weaves down with above ninety percent accuracy in my identifications, of course, by this point, I had read every one of them a couple of dozen times, so it was no great achievement, but I was still having trouble regulating the use of my awen.  At the rate I was burning through it, I''d be spent before reading all the guests.


    She had decided to try a broader weaving; one that was meant to quickly assess a crowd so that you could narrow down your search.  The thought was that most of the guests would be Tuathan so it would help me eliminate them quickly and focus my efforts on the Faye guests.  It wasn''t a bad idea, the weave was much less complex and would cover a greater number of people, but the last minute change wasn''t going smoothly.  The problem was it was just too large and I was having trouble holding it together.


    "You shouldn''t be having this much trouble at this point."  Tish griped, rubbing her eyes as she paced next to the table.  "Remember you don''t need to devote that much awen to this, it''s just a light touch," she said, stopping to sit in the chair next to me.  Quickly she spun the weave to show me again.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "I know," I said, raising my head from the table, glaring at the perfect weave that now hung in the air between us. "It''s not the weave.  I have the weave; you don''t have to show it to me every single time," I snapped, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice.  I liked Tish, I really did.  She was fun and personable, unlike Emily or her partner who usually spent the entire session sitting silently in his chair, but she wasn''t much of a teacher.


    With a huff Tish stood up, her chair scraping across the floor and almost toppling, as she stormed from the room.


    "She''s doing her best," Eurie said, from the corner, once the office door slammed shut. "She not used to having to teach the basics like this."


    "I know, I''m sorry. I''m just hot and tired." Eurie was right, anyone coming into the Vanguard would already know how to do basic weaves like this, it wasn''t her fault that she was working with an amateur.


    "This is no more pleasant for her than it is for you, so when she comes back, watch your tone."


    "Yes, Sir," I mumbled, shifting in my chair.  He hadn''t yelled or even really sounded angry but there was just enough menace in his voice to cause a shiver to run down my spine.


    We sat in silence, tension building until it seemed to blanket the room.  I could feel his eyes on me.  Refusing to look at him, I kept glancing at the door, hopping Tish would come back soon, but she didn''t.


    "So, do you have any tips or pointers?" I finally asked, after a couple of minutes, when I couldn''t take it any longer.  It was a stupid question, but I couldn''t think of anything else, and anything was better than the silence.


    "No," he said curtly. "This isn''t my field."


    "What is your field?" I asked before I could stop myself, I really didn''t want to know more about this man.


    He stared at me for a moment before answering. "Enforcement," he finally said, his eyes never leaving my face.


    My mouth suddenly felt dry.  I tried to swallow, but I started to cough instead, as a lump caught in my throat.  Hastily I grabbed a glass of water from the table and drank it down.  It shouldn''t have been a surprise. He had the look, strong, cold, menacing. I had just thought I would never meet one.  Hoped I would never meet one.  It was a hope that most Tuatha had, but for me, after I started working with Jason, it had been an all too imaginable possibility.


    The primary purpose of the Vanguard was to enforce the laws surrounding how we used our awen, including keeping rogue Tuatha in check, but most of them worked behind the scenes, tracking and analyzing, it was the Enforcers who actually went in and took care of the situation.  How they took care of it was almost entirely up to the individual Enforcer and what they found once they were there.  If they had ever caught me smuggling, I would have been dealing with someone like him.  The mere thought made my blood run cold.  He must have gotten the reaction he was hoping for because a small smile twitched at the corner of his lips.


    "Have you had to do much...enforcing?" I stumbled over the word because I didn''t know what else to call it.  I don''t know why I asked, morbid curiosity?


    "Last one was almost two years ago, up in Canada," he said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "A tracker was passing through and got a hit.  I was sent in to investigate, found a small grove, four adults and a couple of teenagers.  They weren''t doing much yet, but they were starting to draw attention; couldn''t let it go unchecked.  They tried to put up a fight, but it didn''t go so well for them," he said, the last part with a soft chuckle.


    The term grove came from a time when we mostly used our magic to interact with nature.  Our ancestors used their awen to influence the weather, grow their crops, and orchards.  Groves now referred to groups of Tuatha who tried to live outside the central community.  They were usually small, consisting of family members.  There was nothing illegal about them as long as everyone adhered to the Tuathan laws.


    This group clearly hadn''t been, or a tracker would never have felt them.  I didn''t know what they had done, and I wasn''t going to ask.  Maybe it was something that warranted punishment, perhaps it had been necessary for our continued safety, but he didn''t have to look like he had enjoyed it so much.  Two years ago, at least he hadn''t been involved with whatever happened with my mother.  The thought of him being anywhere near her was nauseating.


    Dropping my eyes, I turned my attention to picking at my fingernails, it was a bad habit I''d broken years ago, but I needed something to occupy my mind.  The uncomfortable silence returned as I tried my hardest to ignore Eurie.  More than once I glanced up to find him still staring at me his hands folded in front of his chest and that same grin still tugging at the corner of his lips.  When Tish finally returned, I couldn''t hold back a sigh of relief.  I was ready to do anything and everything she asked as long as it meant she wouldn''t leave me alone with him again.

 Chapter 11

    It had taken hours, but last night I¡¯d finally managed to pull the weave together to Tish''s satisfaction.  Standing in the lady''s room, I tried to hold onto that feeling of triumph as I stepped into the ivory dress Tish had handed me practically the instant I exited the elevator.  It was lovely, with an empire waist and loose skirt that fell a couple of inches below my knees.  Under different circumstances, I would have reveled in the soft fabric and flattering lines, but as it was my sole focus was on not ruining it by succumbing to my stomachs desire to throw up.


    I was working on securing my thick waves into a twist; they were so cooperative when left down, but fought every effort to contain them, when someone knocked at the door.


    "Decent?"  Tish''s voice came from the other side.


    "Yeah, come on in," I called back.


    Tish walked in.  She was stunning in a gray-green dress.  Secured on her left shoulder, it draped across her body in tantalizing folds that hinted at the slim curvy figure beneath.


    "You like?" she turned to the mirror, examining her reflection. "I usually prefer something a little tighter," she said, running her hands over her hips. "But Grimes insists on decorum and mobility when we''re working.  You look quite nice," she continued, moving behind me to finish securing my hair.


    "Thanks," I said, as much for the compliment as the assistance with my unruly locks. "I''m surprised you''re not required to wear a uniform or something."


    "There''ll be plenty of the regular guard there in uniform for show. We''re supposed to blend in, mingle," she said, looking up to smile at her reflection.


    "And we all know who you''ll be mingling with. Don''t we." A cold voice coming from the door caused us both to jump. "Just remember this is work, not singles night at some sleazy bar." Agent Maher stood in the doorway, an elegant vision in white.


    "Knock much?" Tish asked, her fingers clenching painfully in my hair.


    "It''s a public bathroom, and Grime''s sent me to check on you two. We''re running late, so speed it up," Maher said, stepping back and letting the door swing shut behind her.


    "Maybe you''d have a good time if you took that stick out of your ass every once in a while," Tish called out, but I noticed she''d waited until the door closed and even then, she didn''t say it very loud.  At least I wasn''t the only one who didn''t seem to get along with the agent.


    There was silence for the minute it took Tish to finish my hair, she was apparently still fuming, and I didn''t know what to say.  When she was done, I was grateful for her help, the French twist she''d managed looked far better than I could have done myself.


    "So, are you ready to go?" she asked, far more chipper than I felt she should have been.  This night had the makings of a catastrophe, and she didn''t seem even slightly worried about it.


    "Honestly, No."


    "All you can do is your best," she said, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder, but any comfort she might have imparted was quickly lost when she continued. "I''m not saying no one''s going to blame you if things go south, but there''s not much left to do about it now, so don''t sweat it."


    "Uh, thanks," I said, running my hands over my skirt.


    Motivational speaking was definitely not Tish''s strong point, and we left the bathroom, my stomach feeling like I''d eaten a brick.  Justin was standing by the elevator, the rest of the unit already inside waiting on us.


    "You both look lovely," Justin said, smiling at us, holding the elevator door while we stepped in.


    Tish beamed a smile at him, and despite my nervousness, I couldn''t help but blush at the compliment.  It was courtesy.  He probably would have said it even if we''d come walking up wearing burlap sacks, but it was still nice to hear.  He also looked great, him and Eurie both, in their black tuxes.  If it weren''t for the shifter, this would have had all the makings to be one of the best nights of my life.  Of course, without the shifter, I would never have been invited to something like this.


    Once in the garage, I joined Eurie and Tish in one SUV while Maher, Justin, and Grimes climbed into another.  While Eurie and Tish talked about their security details, I sat in the back taking deep breaths and trying to focus on the scenery rather than the impending sense of doom that was starting to settle over me.  Here was my chance to at least partly redeem myself in some small way, and I had a nearly overpowering premonition that I wasn''t going to prove up to the task.  I don''t know what I''d do if someone ended up dying tonight because of me.


    They were holding the banquet at the Spencer Estate.  Any event that had the Faye crossing over was held here.  It used to be the home of a wealthy eccentric who brought promising students there to study under his tutelage, but seventeen years ago, after several of his pupils managed to rip a tear in the veil, the Council confiscated the property.  Though it still retained the vestige of its former elegance, with its columns and classical architecture, it was now more of an armed compound than a stately manor.


    A ten-foot black iron fence surrounded the property, while guards armed with automatic weapons patrolled the perimeter and that was only the obvious security.  Behind the expansive manor, out of site, was an area off-limits to all but the highest officials.  An area that was guarded by so much warding, I could feel the energy even here.  An area where soldiers stood, weapons pointed at an opening less than four feet wide, ready to fire if anyone dared to try to cross from the other side without permission.  There would be no questions; no warnings, just a cold iron bullet to the chest.  Only the very few who had successfully negotiated asylum or those escorted through for events like tonight would ever be allowed onto the property anyone else would die trying.


    Pulling up to the guard house, Eurie flashed his badge, and we were quickly cleared through the first gate.  As we drove slowly down the drive, I began to smell it, the pungent zing of the veil, the aroma of ozone after a storm.  It was still faint but grew stronger as we drove further onto the property.  It was a smell that always accompanied the connection of the veil to the other worlds, and because the tear was a permanent fixture here, the air was practically saturated with it.  We continued until we were directed by a man in a suit with a glowing green stick to turn right.  When we pulled into the underground parking deck, we were met by another guard, this one armed with an automatic rifle, who motioned us to stop. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Walking up to the driver''s side window, he glanced back at me as he checked Tish and Eurie''s badges.  He seemed to be spending an exceedingly long time examining their credentials, and I was starting to think something was wrong when the reason for the holdup became evident.  A shield suddenly slammed into place, and I gave out a small squeak of surprise.  The guard at the window studied us, but when no one started to change, he motioned to someone out of sight.  The shield disappeared.  Stepping back, he waved us through.


    "I thought we weren''t going to be able to use shielding," I said, from the back seat. "Why did I have to do all that work with readings if they''re going to shield everyone." I was a little annoyed. I had spent the last few days terrified of failing tonight.


    "Only staff and security are being checked that way.  It would be a diplomatic nightmare if we did that to the delegates and guests," Tish said, as we pulled into a parking spot.


    Dejectedly I followed them to the elevator.  Shuffling my feet, with my head down, I knew I looked like a petulant child being drug to the dentists, but I couldn''t help it.  Someone might die tonight, and it would be my fault, doubly my fault, not only did I bring their killer but I would be the one responsible for him getting through security as well.


    "We need to do a quick review of the layout.  Then we have a security briefing," Tish said, once we were in the lobby. "Why don''t you wait here," she said, indicating a row of chairs along one wall. "We''ll be back as soon as we can."


    Taking a seat, I resisted the urge to wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt and tried to distract myself with the organized chaos that surrounded me.  The lobby was bustling with people putting together the finishing touches for the guest''s arrival.  Metal detectors and an x-ray machine were being set up by the front doors while two of the staff were rolling out a stretch of thick black carpet from the detectors to the massive double doors of the banquet hall.  As far as I knew no one but the Council every interacted with the Faye so tonight was going to be an event.  The who''s who of Tuatha society wouldn''t be able to pass up the chance to see Faye delegates.


    A dual set of stairs to the right and left of the main banquet entrance curved up to a balcony level.  No one was using the stairs, so I felt confident that they were done with preparations up there and I wouldn''t be in anyone''s way if I took a quick peek.  None of the staff paid me any mind as I climbed my way to the second floor.


    I''d never been to any kind of formal event, and I had to admit the excitement was invigorating.  Leaning on the railing, I watched as dozens of people carefully placed arrangements on the table tops below.  Half of the tables were decorated in the red and gold of the Winter Court while the rest were in the green and browns of the Summer Court.  A dais sat against the far wall, a large banquet table with chairs along only one side.  It was set with the colors of the two courts.


    Back before the exile when we were three tribes, the Kings of each tribe had taken turns as ruler of our people.  Each span lasted ten years before the King stepped down and his replacement ascended.  When the Faye had first arrived in Otherworld, they clung to the tradition of shared power, but unsure on what kind of difficulties they would face in their new home they had decided to shorten the span of rule.  One would reign from winter to summer solstice and the other from summer to winter, thus becoming the winter and summer courts.  After ties deteriorated, they kept their titles though they abandoned the practice that had inspired them.


    "Guess who?" a soft voice whispered in my ear as warm hands covered my eyes.


    I didn''t have to guess.  That voice belonged to the person that, other than Amber, I had missed the most.


    "Donovan," I said, pulling his hands away from my eyes.  I turned around expecting to be face to face with the most beautiful set of blue eyes and thick dark lashes that ever graced the male species.  Instead, I was staring at a broad tuxedoed chest.


    My eyes quickly scanned upward, and I was relieved to find the friendly face I''d been expecting, only several inches higher than where it should have been.  When I had left, less than an inch had separated us in height, and I had probably had a few pounds on him.  Now, other than the dark black hair combed back from a high forehead there was little of the boy I used to know.  The scrawny goofy kid who was always good for a quick laugh and a little good-natured trouble, the one who had been at the center of every instance of juvenile recklessness I had engaged in prior to running away was gone, replaced by the kind of boy I used to daydream about while relaxing on the beach.


    He had always been cute in a sweet sort of way, but the lanky body had been replaced by a strong athletic physique and a tan that spoke of a lot of time outdoors.  His eyes were as beautiful as ever; they just didn''t stand out as much as they used to, now that there was so much else that drew your attention.


    "I''d heard you were back," he said, grabbing my shoulders and pulling me into a tight hug.


    Wrapping my arms around his waist, I leaned against him, enjoying the comfort of his arms wrapped around me, and the spicy smell of his cologne.  Standing there with my cheek against his chest, I realized this was the first hug I''d had since I left.  I squeezed tighter.


    "Where have you been?  I expected to see you at school," I said, reluctantly letting go and stepping back to look up at him.


    Donovan was the one person I hadn''t felt nervous about running into again, well at least not too nervous.  Though Amber and I were closer friends, our friendship also came with expectations, expectations that I had failed to meet.  With Donovan it was a lot freer, we enjoyed each other''s company and had a good time when we were together, but there were little if any obligations.  We could go weeks without seeing or speaking to each other and still fall back into the same rhythms as if we''d never been apart.


    "Dad''s been having me help with preparations here.  The prodigal son and all, keeping a tight leash, so I don''t embarrass the family legacy," he said, with a short laugh though he didn''t sound as bitter as I thought he would.


    Donovan Brennen belonged to one of the founding families, what most considered to be ''The'' founding family and one of the rare ones that managed to have more than one possibly two children.  He had three older sisters, but unfortunately, at least to his father, he was the only son.  A son who Mr.  Brennan had made clear on more than one occasion didn''t live up to his standards of carrying on the family name.


    I think a lot of Donovan''s antics over the years had come from a need to have something tangible for his father to disapprove of.  It was better than the disheartening belief that he simply wasn''t good enough.  A belief that was reinforced by the fact that magic didn''t come much easier to him than it did to me.  He had always struggled a little more than everyone else, something that was unacceptable for the offspring of one of the oldest families and head of the Council.


    "I''m sorry, I know how much you hate this kind of thing," I said, nodding back towards the banquet preparations below.  Donovan had always hated the political obligation that came with his family''s name.


    "It''s not so bad. I''ve actually learned to enjoy it some," he said. "The people that are going to be here tonight have the power to move nations, both figuratively and literally. There''s something exhilarating about being in the same room as them."


    This kind of thing would have bored him to tears a couple of years ago; maybe it was more than his looks that had changed, not that I could get upset about that, I certainly wasn''t the same person I was before.  It seemed like both he and Amber had changed drastically over the last year and a half.  It might be selfish, but I hoped enough of the old Donovan was still there and the old Amber for that matter.


    "Well, I have to get going," he said, hugging me again. "The guests will be arriving soon.  If I don''t get a chance to talk to you again tonight, I''ll see you at school."


    "Okay," I said as he released me.


    "I''m glad your back," he said, as he left.


    I found myself staring at his retreating back, the brick in my stomach replaced by a fluttering sensation that seemed to have robbed me of the ability to think.  He was long out of sight before I recovered my senses enough to return downstairs.


    It wasn''t until I was seated back in the lobby that I realized he hadn''t asked why I was here; this wasn''t the kind of event I would usually be invited to.  Did he already know through his father, or did it just not occur to him to ask?  I wasn''t sure how I felt about him knowing.  If anyone could overlook my transgression, he could, but I had hoped to eventually put this all behind me and forget it ever happened.  The more people who knew, the harder it would be for me to make that happen.

 Chapter 12

    Once the guests started arriving, I didn''t have the time or energy to worry about what Donovan did or didn''t know.  Around five o''clock, limousines began pulling into the circular drive, and for the next two hours, they didn''t stop.  Men in tuxedos and women in designer gowns, and enough jewels to finance a small nation, streamed up the steps into the lobby.


    "Don''t worry; everything''s going to be fine,"  Justin said, resting his hand on my shoulder as I bounced nervously next to him.  "Tish will be with you the entire time, and the rest of us will be across the way."  He said, nodding to where Eurie and Emily already stood on the other side of the room.  "Remember, you''re here to identify, nothing else; we''ll handle the rest."  He smiled, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before walking over to join the others.


    The guards must have been warning people about the readings because no one seemed surprised when I reached out to them, though more than one mouth twisted with a distasteful grimace as my weave brushed over them.  We didn''t allow many Faye to cross through the Tear at any one time, so most of the guests were Tuathan.  Like mine, their awen felt smooth, almost gentle, and I passed over them quickly.  Instead, I focused on the awens that had a wild feel that identified them as Faye.


    I was able to move through a few of the Faye as quickly as I had the Tuatha when I noticed their awen had a warm undertone.  I distinctly remembered the frigid chill that had permeated the shifter''s.  For the others, it took a little longer.


    I''d been clearing guests for a little over an hour when I hit my first real snag in the form of a tall strawberry blond in a blue gown.  The first reading caused me to involuntarily suck in my breath, beside me Tish stiffened, placing her hand on my trembling arm.  The Faye''s awen felt like I''d just submerged my entire body in ice water, the cold prickling across my skin, causing a shiver to run down my spine.  There was something angry about it, not just wild but feral, like a predator eager to tear out the throat of its prey.  The shifter had had an angry, hostile feel to him as well, and I quickly tried to check a second time and a third, but I was too nervous, and the weaves were too disjointed to be of any use.


    "Is it him?"  Tish asked, leaning towards me, her eyes glued on the woman.


    "I''m not sure," I said, reaching out for a fourth time.  "The awen feels very similar, but I - I can''t be sure." I stammered.


    Tish whispered something into her mic.  The guards let the woman pass through, but Justin met her before she''d gone more than a few feet past the checkpoint.  He gave a short bow, offering her his arm.  I couldn''t hear what he was saying, but she flashed him a brilliant smile before taking his arm and allowing him to lead her towards one of the rooms off to the side, looking for all the world like he was just escorting her in.  After a short but heated conversation with Emily, Eurie followed them into the room while Emily remained at her post, absently turning the large diamond ring on her finger, and shooting icy glares at the door.


    I continued screening the rest of the guests, but I found myself unable to concentrate on the task fully.  Casting nervous glances at the door, I half expected it to fly open and the shifter to come storming out.  I jumped, almost losing the weave completely when the door finally did swing open, but it was just the woman, looking no different than she had when she entered.  In fact, she seemed to be in high spirits, clinging to Justin''s arm, laughing as he led her towards the banquet hall.


    I felt horrible about being wrong, but at least she didn''t seem put out or upset by the mistake.  Emily actually seemed more upset than the unnamed guest.  She stood there, glaring at the Faye''s retreating back, her hands clenched at her side.  Even from across the room, I could see the tension in her body.  She started to storm off after the guest, but Eurie quickly reached out, grabbing her arm before she could go more than a couple of steps.


    Emily tried to jerk free, but Eurie held tight.  Leaning down, he whispered something in her ear.  Once again, I couldn''t hear what they were saying, but Emily looked even less happy than last time.  Her face flushed red as she angerly hissed back at him.


    It was clear they were both trying to keep their voices down, but more than one of the guests were starting to stare.  Beside me, Tish''s body had gone tense as she watched them, more than once taking a tentative step towards them, before drawing back.  I don''t know what Eurie said to her, but Emily finally took notice of the attention they were drawing and relented, almost seeming to deflate in front of him.  Looking close to tears, she yanked her arm free and turned around.


    "Don''t ask."  Tish immediately said when I looked towards her.


    There was a definite tension in the room that hadn''t been there before, and I was glad that I was almost done.  My weaves were sloppier than they''d been all night as I screened the last of the guests, but Tish didn''t seem to notice.  No one else came nearly as close to matching the awen, and in the end, I cleared everyone.  I wasn''t sure if I was relieved or not.  On the one hand, I definitely didn''t want to come face to face with him again, but on the other, at least it would have all been over.


    "Sorry," I mumbled as the last guests made their way towards the banquet hall.


    "It''s okay," Tish said, patting my arm.  "We didn''t expect him to show up tonight.  Their kind relies on anonymity, with his cover blown; this event was just too obvious."


    "Then why did you make it seem like it was life or death that I master this weave."  I had felt on the verge of an anxiety attack all week because I''d thought they were counting on me, just to find out they hadn''t even been expecting a problem.


    "Because we couldn''t take the risk that he would show up, it never hurts to take precautions.  Come on; we can watch it start and then will get you something to eat from the kitchen, you look famished."  Pulling my arm, she led me towards the balcony steps.  I was still fuming a little, but I followed her up.


    Several other staff members were already crowding the balcony, trying to get a look at the Faye delegation.  Tish pushed her way through dragging me behind her until we were up against the rail in practically the same spot I''d been standing in earlier.


    Below us, every seat was full.  I spotted Donovan right away, sitting with his mother and two of his sisters, at one of the front tables.  His father was up on the dais with the delegates.  After a little searching, I also found Agent Grimes, whose position in the Vanguard at least warranted a seat at a table though it was near the back.  I didn''t see anyone else I recognized, which wasn''t surprising since outside of Donovan I didn''t run in these kinds of circles.  Everyone became quiet as a young man with white-blonde hair down to his shoulders, and a red coat with gold trim stood up from the banquet table positioned on the dais.


    "That''s Prince Leopold," Tish whispered in my ear.  "He''s the youngest son of Queen Belin.  The guy next to him," she pointed towards a handsome, curly-haired gentleman dressed almost identically to the Prince, "is his older brother Prince Allister.  He was in charge of the delegation a couple of years ago, but I heard he fell out of favor with the Queen, so now his younger half-brother is the heir apparent,"  She said, seeming to be personally offended by the elder Prince''s plight.


    "He started an unsanctioned border dispute," I said.


    "What?" she asked, turning to me.


    "Prince Allister, he was demoted because of a border dispute.  I heard the Queen had considered excommunicating him over it."  About four months ago, the elder Prince''s disgrace had been the go-to gossip in Otherworld.  Along with a general agreement that most prefered the younger Prince.  I''d heard it mentioned a few times while I was there.


    Tish seemed a little put off that I knew more about it than she did.  What did she expect?  I didn''t actively pursue any particular knowledge, but I kept my ears open, you never knew what would turn out to be useful down the road.


    She didn''t say anything further.  We both turned to listen to the delegates give their speeches.  The young Prince gave a pleasantly short one about letting go of past slights and renewing old ties, which was promptly followed by a somewhat longer, and to my untrained ear, pompous one by the Summer Court representative.


    The Summer Court no longer had a monarchy, having converted to a semi-democracy some time ago though only a few were allowed to vote, and the candidates invariably always came from one of the major houses.  I hadn''t heard his title when he was announced, but he looked to be too old to be the Premier.  I had heard more than one person mention how young the new Premier was, and this guy had more gray than brown in his hair, which spoke of a great deal of age for a Faye.


    After the delegates finished with their speeches, the staff quickly filed out to begin dinner service while Tish and I retreated to the kitchen to grab a bite.  We sat at one of the counters.  I was savoring a delicious slice of rare roast beef while she picked at a piece of flakey white fish swimming in a delicate cream sauce.


    "Is something wrong?"  Tish was usually so upbeat and bubbly.


    "It''s nothing," she said, pushing her barely eaten plate away.  "I''m going to start making rounds.  You can go watch if you want, just stay in the background.  Remember, we''re not actual guests here."  She said, a hint of bitterness in her words.


    Finishing my dinner, I put my dishes in the sink and headed for the banquet hall.  I wasn''t feeling particularly social, but I would just be underfoot if I tried to hang out in the kitchen.  I did as Tish advised and stayed off to the side.  Leaning against one of the columns, I resigned myself to spending the rest of the evening people-watching.


    Though I didn''t care much for political posturing, I had to admit it was a little entertaining to watch how the people in the crowd arranged themselves in relation to each other, each vying for a favorable position.  You could tell who was the most important simply by the number of people who seemed to be orbiting them, waiting for their chance to move in and make an impression.


    More than once, I caught sight of Donovan, who seemed to have more than his fair share of circling admires, mostly of the young female variety.  I''d always had a bit of a crush on Donovan, and there had been a hint that he might have felt the same, but neither one of us had ever had the confidence to try to take that next step.  Now watching him mingling with guests and doing it surprisingly well, I couldn''t suppress a bit of jealousy.


    "So, this is the young lady responsible for all the unpleasantness at the doors this evening."  A voice startled me.  My thoughts had been so consumed with Donovan that I hadn''t heard anyone approach.


    "Considering the current situation, we decided it was prudent to take extra precautions and apologize for the inconvenience," Supervisor Agent Grimes said, addressing a shorter gentleman that I recognized.  He had been sitting among the delegates from the Summer Court.


    "Yes, well, we''re all lucky Lady Aulander found your agent so charming.  She''s Prince Allister''s closest cousin and could have been far less accommodating of the situation."  He saidThis story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Well, everyone, including yourself, agreed that in light of the current situation, precautions were prudent.  It was a minor inconvenience at most.  Agent Vaughn is a charming young man and one of our best. I''m sure he gave her no reason to complain."  Agent Grimes said, turning to lead the delegate away, but the man refused to follow.


    "It''s also my understanding that you''re the reason the security was necessary at all," he continued, his eyes traveling over me like I was an insect scurrying across the floor.  I got the distinct impression that would like nothing more than to squish me under his boot.  "You''re lucky the incident took place in the Winter Court; the Premier would not have been as forgiving as the young Prince has been."  His tone made it clear that he felt I should be in prison at the very least.  "Can''t imagine what kind of terms you had to agree to, to keep her out of the dungeons."


    "Well, I guess it is fortunate that it didn''t occur on your lands.  As to whatever agreement the Prince and Council came to, that is between them," Agent Grimes said, with a sigh.  It was clear he had been given charge of this particular delegate and wasn''t enjoying the assignment.


    "Yes, well, they do have more pressing matters.  After all, with the Wilds practically beating at their doors and those


    Morrigan resurrectionist fanatics causing trouble in the outlying towns, what''s a little thing like trespassing and assault?"


    I wanted to defend myself, but something else had caught my attention.  "Morrigan resurrectionists?"  I asked.


    "A small group of zealots running around claiming that Badb is returning, and as the last Morrigan, she has the right to rule.  They''ve been causing some disturbances in the smaller villages.  Spreading their nonsense and trying to gain converts."


    The Morrigan were the three sisters that had led our people to betray the truce and consequently to exile in Otherworld.  The Summer and Winter Courts were founded by two of the Morrigans, Macha, and Anand, and Anand''s descendants still ruled in the Winter Court.  The last sister, Badb, had been driven out since she had failed to convince her tribe to fight, and the others blamed that failure for their defeat.


    "How can she still be alive?"  I asked.  Sure, the Faye lived a long time, but four thousand years was out of the question.


    "She not."  He snapped, glaring at me like I was an idiot.  "Her name is being used as an excuse to gather the weak-minded.  Mark my words; this is just a setup for an attempted coup on the royal family.  Why else would these followers only by harassing the Winter providences?  They should have followed our example and given up the monarchy long ago."


    The representative tried to grill me for a few more minutes on what happened when I crossed the border, but Agent Grime kept brushing him off, advising it was a confidential matter.  When he finally gave up, I couldn''t have felt happier to see him leave.  I had been tired before, but now I felt dead on my feet.


    "You look like your about to fall over."  Tish walked up from behind.  I was glad to hear some of her usual spirit back in her voice. She even looked happier with a broad smile lighting up her face.  "I see you got cornered by Counselman Straus.  He''s the worst; everyone hates having to deal with him."  She said, looking sympathetically in the direction Grimes had went.


    "I feel like I''m about to pass out.  Is there any way I can just go nap in the car?" I said.


    "I don''t'' see why not.  There''s no reason for you to hang around here anymore.  Let me find Eurie and get the keys."


    "That would be great," I said, thankful for an escape.


    She quickly returned with the keys and walked me to the service elevator.


    "Remember where we parked?"  I assured her that I did, and she left me to return to the party.


    The elevator ride was excruciatingly slow, but when the doors finally opened, the cold blast of air was a refreshing boost.  I hadn''t realized how hot the banquet hall had gotten with all the bodies moving around.  Though the garage wasn''t exactly cold, the sudden change in temperature caused goosebumps to break out along my arms, and I wished I''d brought a jacket.  Hopefully, there was enough gas in the car that I could let it run and warm up for a bit.


    The sound of my heels striking the concrete in the otherwise silent garage was a little unnerving, and I found myself jumping at shadows as I tried to locate the car.  Moving down the rows, I realized I didn''t actually remember where we''d parked.  Walking slowly, I moved my arm from side to side, repeatedly pressed the unlock button on Eurie''s key fob, hoping I was close enough for the SUV to pick up the signal.  I was beginning to think the vehicle was in the other direction when a set of flashing parking lights and a horn sounded from a few rows to my right.


    I was cutting through the rows, threading my way between cars when I saw something scurry into the shadows next to the SUV.  Stopping, I stood there frozen, staring at the darkness.  I was tired and already on edge, so I wasn''t sure that I had actually seen anything until another shift in the shadows caused me to duck down next to a silver car.  Resting my head against the cool surface of the bumper, I tried to steady my breathing.


    Glancing over my shoulder, I bit my lower lip as I tried to decide what to do.  The elevator was a long way off, lost in the gloom of the parking deck.  Should I go back up to the party?  What would I say that I got spooked because I thought I saw something in the shadows?  It had been so quick I had no idea what I''d actually seen.  Maybe it was a cat, though what I saw seemed too big, just a play of the lights then, or nothing at all, just my tired mind playing tricks on me.  I couldn''t go back without at least checking.


    Licking my lips, I tentatively inched towards the front of the car, my body trembling as I slid along the smooth surface.  Pausing by the wheel, I took a deep breath and willed myself to have the courage to at least look.  That''s all it is a look; I told myself as I leaned over, peeking around the bumper.


    Holding my breath, I studied the darkness.  Dim yellow overhead lights were spaced every twenty or thirty feet and provided just enough light to bath the entire parking deck in shadows.  My eyes strained against the gloom, trying to pick out any signs of movement.  I had almost convinced myself it was, in fact, a cat or my imagination entirely when I saw it again.


    It was no cat.  At first, I had the vague impression of a terrifyingly large four-legged spider creeping out from behind the SUV.  I watched as it slowly crawled out of the shadows and into the beam of an overhead light.  I wished it was a gigantic spider.


    It was humanoid, but its skeletal arms and legs, their joints swollen to grotesque proportions, carried its body like an insect; its torso held low and parallel to the ground.  Its skin wasn''t just pale, but the kind of sickly pallor that brought to mind images of death and disease.  It scuttled back and forth in front of the SUV, periodically raised its head, sniffing at the air.


    I don''t know if it caught my sent or if I''d made some sort of noise or movement to draw its attention, but it started coming in my direction.  It moved slowly, stopping every few feet to sniff at the air again like it wasn''t sure I was there.  Quickly I ducked behind the bumper and began inching my way back towards the middle of the car.


    Presumably, several guards were still stationed at the garage entrance.  I considered calling out to them, but I wasn''t sure they would hear me, and even if they did that thing was close enough, it would probably have me before they got here.  Running for the exit was out of the question.  I''d have to go past that thing to get to it.  Though it was some ways off, returning to the elevator seemed like the best option.


    Pressing my body against the car, I started scooting along it, back in the direction I had come.  Reaching the back bumper, I decided to work my way down the line of cars.  I''d have to cross the open isle eventually, but I wanted to be a little closer to the elevator before I did, in case I had to make a run for it.


    I raised from my crouch to peak over the trunk and check on the creature.  To my utter horror, it was gone.  Dropping back down, I tried to listen for any sound of movement, but all I could hear was my own ragged breathing.  I sat there frozen like a rabbit, my body trembling as my imagination spiraled out of control.  I could picture it moving beneath the cars, slowly creeping towards me until it was close enough to reach out with its bony hand and grab my ankle.  Moving away from the car, I stared at the darkness beneath as I tried to swallow the scream I felt building in the back of my throat.


    I remained there unable to move for what seemed like an eternity, though it couldn''t have been more than a few seconds before I started to regain some control of myself.  Get it together; you have to do something or your probably dead, I scolded myself.  Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm my frazzled thoughts and think.


    It might not be heading my way, but without knowing where it was, I no longer wanted to try for the elevator, but I couldn''t continue to sit here exposed either.  Moving to the driver''s side door, I reached up and tried the handle praying it would be unlocked; it wasn''t.  Turning, I tried the passenger door of the dark van next to it, and to my relief, it clicked open.  Thankfully no dome light came on as I opened it just far enough to squeeze in.  As quietly as possible, I closed the door behind me and hit the lock.


    Pulling on the seat lever, I scooted the chair back so I could crouch down out of sight. The creature had definitely been smelling for something but seemed unsure of my presence.  I hoped that sitting in the vehicle would cover my sent if that was what it was tracking me by.  I sat there for what seemed like forever before I finally got up the nerve to peek over the dash.


    No longer crouched down on all fours, the thing now stood on its legs, staring at me through the front windshield.  It was probably about five foot when it stood upright and was female and naked, er breasts sagging down to her stomach.  Now that she was closer, I could see that her skin was thin and pulled so tight that dark liquid oozed from cracks around her mouth and nose.  Black stringy hair clung to her scalp in patches while the bare parts were red and mottled as if she''d ripped the rest of her hair out by the roots.


    I couldn''t help it, I screamed.  It screamed back.  Leaping up, it landed on the hood, causing the van to rock violently.  With a strength far greater than her emaciated form should have been capable of, she struck the windshield.  Leaving a web of cracks radiating from the point of impact.  Her next blow brought her fist through, showering the van in a cascade of glass.  Throwing myself between the driver and passenger seats, I tried to wriggle into the back seat, but her skeletal fingers latched onto my leg.  Her sharp nails digging painfully into my calf.


    Now that it was in the van with me, I could smell it ¡ª the putrid smell of rot and decay.  Kicking out wildly, I repeatedly made contact with her face, ripping new wounds into her flesh, but she didn''t seem to care.  Using my leg for leverage, she started pulling herself into the car.  Large dark eyes stared at me, but they didn''t hold the malice I had expected.  Instead, she looked sad, almost confused as if I wasn''t what she had expected to find after forcing her way into the vehicle, which was ridiculous since she had been able to see me clearly through the glass.


    The hand that wasn''t clutching my leg reached out towards my face.


    "Home.  Go Home." The words wrenched from her throat as if she hadn''t spoken in a while and had almost forgotten how to form the syllables.


    I was stunned that she was intelligent enough to speak at all as much as by what she said.


    "Home," she said again, her voice less rough as if she was regaining a skill she had lost.  "Take me home. Take me home."


    She started screaming it over and over, becoming more agitated with each repetition until it deteriorated into an incoherent wail.  Digging her nails further into my calf, she drug her fingers across the surface, rendering bloody gashes down my leg.  Frantically I fumbled blindly around the back seat, desperately searching for anything I could use as a weapon.  A flashlight, an umbrella, anything, but there was nothing.


    With nothing else to do, I forced myself to lean in closer to her hideous face.  Before I could waver, before disgust could overwhelm me, I raised my hand and jammed both thumbs into her eyes.  I felt the right one burst as a sticky liquid oozed out from beneath my thumb.  Rearing back, she released my leg and started thrashing wildly, clawing at her ruined eye.  I slid the rest of the way into the back seat.  Scrambling, I threw open the door, falling out onto the concrete.


    Adrenaline spurred my actions.  I was up and running despite the excruciating pain that radiated from my lower leg.  I was disorientated, and I wasn''t even sure I was running towards the elevator, but it didn''t matter, a heavy blow to my back sent me sprawling to the ground.


    Either it had given up trying to speak, or it no longer had the wherewithal to form words because she made no further effort to talk to me.  Instead, she silently sat on my back.  I could feel her leaning in towards my head, and all I could think about was those sharp teeth digging in the back of my neck.


    She was heavier than the seemed, and her weight pinned me to the concrete.  Whimpering, I laid there waiting for the end.  But the end wasn''t to come through the rending of flesh.  Instead, she placed her hand between my shoulder blades.  I felt a tingling radiate across my back and then a tugging feeling behind my ribs.  It took me a moment to register what was happening.  She was draining my awen.


    My whimpers turned to sobs.  Fighting desperately beneath the weight, I tried to rock and throw her off of me, but I couldn''t shake her.  Kicking out at nothing, I flailed beneath her, but it didn''t last long.  I was already at my limit, and my muscles soon grew tired and weak, my struggles slowly subsiding until I lay limp and unmoving beneath her.  As the world started fading around me, my mind insisted that this wasn''t so bad.  Painless, I couldn''t even feel my throbbing leg anymore.  There were certainly worse ways to go.


    I heard angry screams, and it took me a moment to realize they came from the thing on top of me or the thing that used to be on top of me.  There was no longer any pressure on my back.  I couldn''t lift my head, but I saw a pair of black shoes run past me moments before a white blur knelt next to my face.


    "I''ve got her."  I recognized the voice, but my mind was unable to produce a name to go with it.


    All I knew was that I was no longer alone, and I had never felt so relieved in my life. The adrenaline which had been keeping me going, even if only minimally, drained from my body, and I found myself suddenly growing cold as my eyes drifted shut.

 Chapter 13

    ¡°I said I was sorry.¡±  I heard Emily say as my mind slowly swam back to the surface of consciousness.  ¡°She¡¯s been agitated all night.  I didn¡¯t realize it was anything different at first.¡±


    As the voices sank in and reality started to solidify around me, I realized my cheek was resting against soft fabric instead of the cold concrete I remembered, and a hand was gently stroking my hair.  My eyelids felt like they were being held down by weights, and the last thing I wanted to do was try to force them open.  Instead, I laid there, listening to an argument that had apparently been going on for a bit.


    ¡°I know how to do my job.¡±  Do you seriously think I would let this happen on purpose?¡± Emily continued, responding to a comment I hadn¡¯t heard.


    ¡°No one¡¯s saying that,¡± Justin said, a touch of warning in his voice.


    ¡°Of course not.¡± Tish said defensively.  ¡°I¡¯m just saying that with everything going on, maybe you¡¯re not the best person for the job right now.  You¡¯re under a lot of stress already, and it¡¯s not like you want to do it anyways.  You don¡¯t always have to be the one in charge of everything; you can let someone else take over for once.¡±


    "That''s enough, Tish."  Justin¡¯s voice took on a hard edge.


    "Someone like you?¡±  Scorn practically dripped from Emily¡¯s words.  ¡°Because you did such a bang-up job.  She was just as much your responsibility tonight as mine.  You were the one who was supposed to physically keep an eye on her, and where were you?  Making a fool of yourself, mooning over that arrogant, good for nothing Prince, just like last time.¡±


    ¡°What I do is none of your business.¡±


    ¡°It is when you¡¯re supposed to be working.  Fraternizing with the enemy, your actions make us all look bad.¡±  I heard leather crinkle, and I could just imagine Emily turning in her seat to glare at Tish.


    ¡°Like your near-meltdown at the beginning of the night hadn¡¯t already done that? You would have attacked that woman if Eurie hadn¡¯t stopped you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s enough, both of you, this isn¡¯t helping anything.¡±  Justin again tried to deter their argument, but they ignored him.


    ¡°He¡¯s not our enemy.¡±  Tish snapped, leaning forward.  ¡°You¡¯re just hateful and jealous.¡±


    ¡°Jealous, jealous of what?  Your imaginary relationship with him?  Your complete infatuation with a man who couldn¡¯t care less about you. He¡¯s using you; you¡¯re just too stupid to see what¡¯s obvious to everyone else.¡±


    ¡°Your wrong; he¡¯s a good man.¡±  Tish said, her voice trembling.


    ¡°Yeah, and you¡¯ve shown yourself to be such a good judge of character.¡±


    I felt Tish¡¯s body go rigid beneath me, and the gentle stroking of my hair turned painful as her fingers clenched around the strands.


    ¡°Ow.¡±  I said, unable to stop myself, my hand reaching up to loosen her grip.


    ¡°Sorry.¡±  Tish said, quickly releasing my hair.


    Not wanting to admit that I¡¯d been eavesdropping, I sat up slowly, rubbing at my head and trying to act like the pain had just woke me up.


    "How are you feeling?¡±  Tish asked, concern replacing the anger in her eyes.


    I had been so focused on their argument that I¡¯d forgotten about what had led up to it, but her question brought it crashing back.  ¡°It tried to drain me.¡±  They were the only words I could manage to say as my body began to tremble.  Tish reached out to me, and I leaned over.  Resting my head on her shoulder, I buried my face into the fabric of her dress and let the tears slide down my cheeks.


    "I know.  It''s all my fault,¡± she said, rocking me back and forth.  "I was supposed to be keeping track of you, and I didn''t.  I''m so sorry."


    She let me sit there for a few minutes, my tears soaking her dress as she rubbed my shoulders and back as if I was a child in need of comfort, which I guess at that moment I was.


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± she asked again, once my tears subsided.


    Sitting up, I realized that physically I felt fine.  My leg no longer hurt, and though I couldn¡¯t really see it, I was sure the wounds were gone.  I had a vague memory of someone forming a healing weave over me before I lost consciousness.  Physically I felt fine, but I had a hollow, empty feeling from a fear that I hadn''t even wanted to acknowledge.


    Our awen was finite; eventually, you ran out, but as long as you never use the last little bit, it was able to regenerate.  Sometimes it took hours or days depending on an individual''s ability, but you would always come back to full strength.  It wasn''t the same if someone or something forcibly took it from you.  If they took it all, there would be nothing left to regenerate and your awen would be gone, permanently.  It was called draining; that¡¯s what the creature had been trying to do.  Thinking about it caused a shiver to run down my spine.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± I said.


    ¡°Are you sure? No pain or anything?¡± she asked.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m okay,¡± I said again.  Tish clearly felt terrible about the situation and was trying to make up for her perceived lapse.


    ¡°What happened?¡±  Justin asked from the driver¡¯s seat.


    My memories seemed jumbled and out of focus, but I tried to recall what had happened.


    ¡°Was it waiting by the SUV?¡±  Emily asked after I¡¯d finished.


    ¡°No, I think it approached because I set off the alarm with the key fob,¡± I said, after some thought.  ¡°What was it.?  Do you think it was there for me?¡±


    ¡°We don''t know yet, but it''s doubtful.  It had no way to know you''d be down there alone.¡±  Justin said.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think the shifter could have sent it?¡±  I didn¡¯t like the thought that that thing might be stalking me.  I wanted to believe that my encounter had been random, an unfortunate accident, but it seemed too coincidental, after all, I was sure other people had been down in the garage off and on throughout the evening.  Why hadn¡¯t it gone after one of them?


    ¡°We can¡¯t be sure, but there are better and easier ways than hoping you¡¯d happen to be down in the garage alone and that no one else came upon it first.  I don¡¯t think you have anything more to worry about it,¡± Justin reassured me as he steered into Maggie¡¯s drive.


    Parking the car Justin jumped out and immediately came around to help me.  I tried to wave him off and climb out myself, but he reached into the car anyways.


    ¡°Trust me.¡±  He said, ignoring my protests as he placed a hand under my elbow and wrapped his other arm around my waist.  ¡°Your leg was pretty messed up, and even minor healings can take a lot out of a person.¡±


    Though I had felt fine while sitting down, my legs nearly collapsed the moment my feet hit the ground.  Supporting most of my weight, Justin carefully guided me up the porch steps, my knees weak and unstable the entire way. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Maggie was waiting on the porch, and she pulled me into a tight hug the moment we reached her.  Releasing me, she stepped back, her eyes examining every inch of me as her hands fluttering around me.  Green strands of her awen brushed against me, checking to make sure I was indeed okay.  As if she thought the others might have missed some serious injury.


    ¡°She¡¯s fine, Maggie,¡± Justin said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll decide for myself if she¡¯s fine,¡± Maggie said, shooting him a reproachful look.  She might have been retired, but the old dynamics still seemed to be there at least a little bit.  ¡°You look worn out, dear.  Let¡¯s get you to bed,¡± she said, taking my weight from Justin and leading me inside.  She was surprisingly strong, not faltering even slightly as I leaned heavily on her.  ¡°You three wait in the sitting room, I¡¯ll be right back down.¡±  She called back over her shoulder as we made our way slowly up the stairs.


    ¡°Are you sure you''re okay, dear?" she asked once we were in my room.  She placed a cool hand against my forehead, tsking at the heat radiating from it.  "You look like death.  Though I guess, that¡¯s to be expected."


    "I''m okay, just shaken up."  I tried to reassure her.  It felt nice to have someone around who seemed to genuinely care, but I had never been much for being fussed over.


    "Well, there¡¯s some warm chicken broth on your nightstand,¡± she said, pointing to a large steaming mug.  I could see the weave laced around the cup, keeping the liquid hot.  "Make sure you drink it all.  It will make you feel better."


    After securing a promise that I would drink the broth and go straight to bed, she left.  Once the door closed, I listened for the squeaking of the floorboards indicating she had gone back downstairs.  Waiting a moment to make sure she wouldn¡¯t suddenly return, I opened the door and crept down the hall.  I carefully skipped the second to the top step as I snuck downstairs, stopping when I was able to hear their conversation.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need for you to double-check.¡±  Maggie¡¯s exasperated voice reached me.  ¡°I¡¯ve been setting wards longer than you¡¯ve been alive, I know what I¡¯m doing.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s probably overkill, but I think we need to take precautions just in case," Justin responded.  "It concerns me that it managed to get down there at all, with security being as tight as it was.  This and the fact that we still haven''t been able to make contact with more than half our Crossers," he continued, his voice trailing off.


    ¡°I agree.  It¡¯s unlikely it was there for her, but precautions don¡¯t hurt,¡± Maggie said.  "Has there been any word on Tom?" she continued, her voice dropping so that I could barely hear her.  If there was an answer, it was too low for me to hear, though I thought I could hear someone crying faintly.


    I didn¡¯t hang around for the rest.  The fact that they hadn¡¯t just been placating me in the car made me feel a lot better.  If none of them thought it was related to the shifter, then it probably wasn''t.  Changing into my pajamas, I drank the mug of broth before climbing under the covers.  I had thought that despite my exhaustion, I would have trouble sleeping, but I felt my eyes drifting shut the moment my head hit the pillow.  If Maggie came to check on me, I was out before it happened.


    It was late the next morning when I finally woke to sunlight streaming through my window and birds chirping outside.  Groaning, I rolled over and pulled the covers over my head, willing myself to fall back to sleep.  Last night I had been too tired to do anything but fall into bed, and I was unwilling to get up and examine the damage.  But it was a beautiful morning, and I was already wide awake.  Sighing, I sat up and reluctantly pulled back the covers, already wincing at what I might find.


    It was perfectly fine.  Shocked, I turned my leg back and forth, running my hand up and down the surface, amazed to find the skin smooth and unbroken.  I¡¯d known someone had healed me last night, but I hadn¡¯t expected this.  I could clearly remember the jagged nails tearing down the length of my calf, and even with a skilled healer I had expected at least some scaring, but whoever had healed me knew their stuff, there wasn¡¯t a single mark or blemish to show where the creature had torn into me.  If it weren¡¯t for the stained and torn dress tossed over the chair, I could have believed last night was nothing more than a bad dream.


    A good night¡¯s sleep had done me wonders, but Maggie insisted I spend the weekend in the house recovering, which was fine by me.  Maggie¡¯s idea of recuperating included copious amounts of homemade chicken broth enhanced with various herbs from her garden, while mine include frightening amounts of chocolate ice cream.  She agreed to get me the ice cream as long as I agreed to drink the broth.


    While Maggie ran to the store, I decided to catch up on my schoolwork.  Working with Tish every night had left me little time for anything else.  I was only a week into school and already woefully behind in nearly every subject.


    Sitting with my compulsory cup of broth, I decided to start with math, which was a mistake.  Math had never been my best subject, but I¡¯d always been a solid B student in it.  Unfortunately, I hadn¡¯t done more than the basics in over a year, and I was more than a bit rusty.  I¡¯d been struggling with it for a while, having to skip back and forth to previous chapters to refresh myself and had just gotten on a roll when the phone rang, breaking my concentration.  Frustrated, I considered ignoring it, no one should be calling me anyway, when I realized it might be Maggie checking in on me.


    "Hello," I said, picking up after the fifth ring.


    "Desirae."  The voice practically sighed on the other end.  "Hey, I was just calling to check on you.  I heard about last night.  Dad said you were okay, but I wanted to make sure.  I came by earlier, but your warden turned me away. Are you okay?"


    "I''m fine and don¡¯t call her that.  Maggie''s nice, she''s just doing her job."


    "If she¡¯d been doing her job earlier, this might not have happened.  To think you''re under Vanguard care and you get attacked under their very noses.  Are you sure you¡¯re okay?"


    "Donovan, I¡¯m fine, and Maggie wasn¡¯t even there.  It wasn¡¯t her fault or anyone else¡¯s.  I asked to go wait in the car; they couldn''t just leave their posts to come babysit me."


    "Maybe not, but the guards definitely have some explaining to do.  There''s no excuse for letting that thing get past them.  What happened exactly?"


    It already sounded like he knew most of it, but I told him what I could remember.  I don''t know if it was the fear or exhaustion, but a lot of the night was a little fuzzy, though I could remember every minute detail of the creature itself.  I doubted I would ever forget what it looked like.


    "Do you know what it could be?"


    "That doesn''t sound like anything I''ve heard of before," he said, after a pause.  ¡°They did some readings at the scene last night, but from what I¡¯ve heard, it didn¡¯t match anything they¡¯re familiar with.  I wouldn¡¯t worry about it though, they¡¯ll find her eventually, they already have their best trackers working on it," he continued, almost like he was trying to reassure himself as much as me.


    "That¡¯s what Justin said, not to worry, it wasn¡¯t after me, but why was it there at all.  How can anyone be sure it wasn¡¯t there for me?¡±


    ¡°Why would it be after you?¡±


    It was the perfect opening to tell him what I¡¯d done, why I was back.  Though I wasn¡¯t supposed to be telling anyone about it, I was pretty sure he already at least knew something.  Not the whole story probably, but something.  It might be nice to be honest with someone about it, but I couldn¡¯t bring myself to do it.


    ¡°No reason, paranoia I guess.¡±  There was no response from the other end, but at least he didn¡¯t call me out on my lie.  ¡°You''ll let me know if you hear anything, right," I said quickly, in an attempt to break the awkward silence.


    Donovan seemed to have access to a lot of information, which wasn''t surprising considering who his father was.  It wasn''t outside the realm of possibility that he would know something the others didn''t or something they weren''t willing to tell me.


    "Des, don''t worry about it, okay.  Trust me, it wasn¡¯t there for you.  Let the professionals deal with it."


    "You can¡¯t be sure about that, and even if it wasn¡¯t specifically there for me, it still tried to drain me, Donovan.  How can I not worry about it?"


    "I know, but there''s nothing more you can do.  Stay out of it, okay."  He said agitation straining his words.


    "I didn''t say I was going to try to get involved.  I just want to know what they find out, and I''m not sure anyone here will tell me."  He was acting like I was going to try to track this thing down myself, and there was nothing further from my mind.


    "I''m sorry, I just don¡¯t want you doing something that will get you hurt," he said, his voice calm again.  "Want me to come over?"


    The sudden change of direction threw me.  "Maggie has me pretty much on lockdown, I don¡¯t think she''d appreciate company right now," I said, fumbling for the words.


    "I''m sure I can convince her to let me come over.  I can be quite charming when I want to be, and I¡¯m great at playing doctor."


    The abrupt shift from angry to playful took me by surprise.  There had been more than a hint of innuendo in his voice, and I wasn''t sure what to do with it.  I''d always been a little attracted to him, but more than just his looks had changed while I was gone.  Neither of us was the same people we used to be, and with everything going on, I wasn''t sure I was ready to deal with this on top of everything else.  I wasn''t ready to explore a new relationship with him yet, and I was glad to have Maggie as an excuse.


    "Earlier, you couldn''t convince her to let you in the door," I said, trying not to make it sound like I didn''t want to see him.  Though I wasn''t ready to explore our relationship now that didn''t mean I wouldn¡¯t be interested down the road once things settled down.  "I don''t think that would be a good idea right now.  I''m just going to be napping and doing homework most of the day anyway."


    "Well, if you''re sure," he said, sounding disappointed.


    "I''m sure, but thanks for the offer, and thanks for calling."


    ¡°Des, you know you can trust me, right?  With anything.¡±  He said quickly before I could hang up.


    ¡°I know.¡±  And surprisingly, I did.


    ¡°Okay, as long as you know,¡± he said when I didn¡¯t say anything further.  ¡°I¡¯ll talk to you later.¡±


    Hanging up, I felt the butterflies from last night return.  I couldn''t help but smile slightly at the phone.

 Chapter 14

    I was a little disappointed when Monday rolled around, and Donovan was still a no show.  I¡¯d hoped to have someone to talk with; Amber was still ignoring me, and the rest of the students were giving me a wide berth.  I enjoyed the classes but with no one to hang out with the day seemed to drag.  When the bell finally rang, I was relieved to see Maggie waiting out front in her white Cadillac, her pleasant face a welcome change to Agent Maher''s and Eurie¡¯s usual glowers.  With the failure at the party, hopefully, I was done helping the Vanguard.


    "How was your day?" she asked as I climbed inside.


    "As good as can be expected," I said, buckling up.


    "I know they''ve been keeping you busy at the Consulate, but are your studies going okay?" she asked as she pulled away.


    "I have an English paper I really need to start working on, but otherwise I mostly got caught up this weekend."  It hadn''t even been a full week yet, but I was already getting into the swing of things.  If only school could be just about the academics.


    "Well, you should have plenty of time to work on it this afternoon.  I have somethings to do at the store, and you can do your work there."


    Maggie owned an antique shop located in what used to be downtown nearly a century ago; now, it was the historic district.  Rows of red brick buildings lined the street, clearly old but lovingly maintained with bright flower boxes and freshly painted signs.  Trees that were older than the buildings spread a canopy of branches over the sidewalk providing comfortable shade during the summer for the window shoppers.  Being a Monday afternoon, the street was mostly empty.


    Maggie¡¯s place was mid-block nestled between a boutique and consignment shop.  Two large picture windows faced the street.  ''Arlene''s Attic¡¯, written in blocky white letters, took up the majority of the left pane while the other displayed a small open sign and a row of vases.


    "Arlene?"  I asked as we drove by.


    "My mother," Maggie said, as she turned down the alley and pulled into a gravel lot behind the building.  "She opened this shop nearly fifty years ago."


    Grabbing my bag, I followed her in through the back door.  We walked down a short hall that branched off to the right and left before opening up into a large open gallery.  It was dimly lit, with just enough light that you weren''t straining to see.  It felt mysterious like you were searching for treasures hidden away in the back of an old storeroom.  Glass cases lined the walls, displaying the smaller and more fragile pieces of her collection while the larger items were spread out across the showroom floor.


    "Hey Mags," a pleasant voice called out, moments before a young man stood up, his sudden appearance causing me to jump.


    He was in his mid to late twenties, tall and thin, without an ounce of spare flesh on him, and his nose and mouth were slightly too large for his face.  He looked familiar, but I couldn¡¯t quite place him.


    ¡°Sorry about that,¡± he put down the cardboard box he¡¯d been rummaging through and wiped his palm on his pants before extending his hand.  ¡°You must be Desirae.¡±


    "Desirae, this is Landry," Maggie introduced.


    "Nice to meet you," he said, taking my hand with a wide toothy grin.


    "When he''s not working on his Ph.D. or running marathons, he''s here helping me," she said, a fond smile curling her lips.


    "Well, there¡¯s nothing I wouldn¡¯t do for my favorite Aunt; after all, she does pay my tuition,¡± he said, playfully returning her smile.


    "It''s the least I can do for my second favorite nephew," Maggie said.


    "You only have two nephews," Landry said, clutching his hand to his chest in mock pain.  "I always knew Justin was your favorite."


    Once he said the name, it was apparent why he seemed familiar.  Though they didn¡¯t really look that much alike, they had the same nose and smile.


    ¡°Would you care for a tour?" he asked.


    "Maybe next time," Maggie said before I could speak up.  "The Vanguard¡¯s been monopolizing her time this last week, and she''s got school work to catch up on."


    ¡°The Vanguard, huh,¡± he said, looking me up and down.  ¡°You look a little young to be working for those guys.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not,¡± Maggie said.  ¡°She¡¯s interning with one of the secretaries.¡±  She was so casual about it that if I didn¡¯t know better, I wouldn¡¯t have realized she was lying.


    "Okay, well next time then," he said, before turning back to the box he¡¯d been working on as I followed Maggie.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry you had to lie to your nephew for me,¡± I said, once Landry was out of earshot.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.  I¡¯d rather you didn¡¯t talk about anyone you met in the office, but this way it won¡¯t seem out of place if you let something slip,¡± she said, leading me down the hall.  ¡°This is my office; you can work in here.¡± She unlocked the door and motioned for me to go inside.  ¡°The computer isn¡¯t the newest, but it¡¯s connected to the internet and should suit your needs.  Do you need anything?¡±


    "I¡¯m fine, thanks," I said, setting my bag on the large wooden desk.


    "Alright, bathrooms down the hall to the right, and I''ll be out on the floor if you need anything," she said, closing the door behind her.


    Turning on Maggie''s computer, I pulled my flash drive out and plugged it in.  Maggie''s office was an absolute treasure trove.  Several tall bookcases were filled to the brim with old leather-bound volumes, while maps and paintings lined the dark green walls, various knickknacks filled in any spare space.  It was a little more cluttered than I would have pictured her office.  Focusing on the screen in front of me, I tried to ignore my surroundings.  I knew I could lose myself for hours exploring the contents of those shelves if I gave myself a chance.


    ¡®The role of dark humor in children''s literature'' was displayed in bold type across the top of the screen with absolutely nothing below it.  This was supposed to be a year-long project, but having missed the first couple of months of school, I was already behind.  I was supposed to have a general outline to discuss with Mr. Mansell by tomorrow.  Though he would probably give me a little leeway, I needed something to give him, and I hadn''t even settled on what works I was going to use yet.


    Lewis Carroll''s Alice books were an obvious choice and ones I was familiar with, but I also liked Roald Dahl with his Charlie and the Chocolate Factory or James and the Giant Peach.  I had considered finding an author I wasn''t already familiar with, but I worried that with everything going on, I wouldn''t have the time or inclination to really read and analyze something new.


    I always had a little writer''s block when I first started a project, even when I had a pretty good idea of where I wanted to go with it, and it was always ten times worse when I didn''t.  It was probably a good twenty minutes before I hit my first key, but once I did, the words began to pour out.  Nothing poetic or insightful yet, this was just an outline, but hopefully the cornerstone of what would turn out to be an A+ paper. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Thinking back to the books of my childhood, I realized that I had read quite a bit of dark fiction.  I had always been a little overly serious as a child, and those types of stories just seemed to draw me in better than the lighter ones my friends had enjoyed.  I worked for a couple of hours, Maggie checking in on me once to see if I wanted anything for dinner, before the inspiration started to fade.


    Yawning, I stretched my back.  The clock on the wall said it was a little after six.  My eyelids were starting to feel heavy, and the words were beginning to blur on the screen.  I had a rough draft of several pages completed, with a solid outline for the rest, more than enough to satisfy Mr. Mansell, but I still had a couple of ideas rattling around in my head that I knew I¡¯d lose if I didn¡¯t get them down.  I had an hour before the shop closed, and I was determined to punch out another paragraph or two before calling it quits.


    My head popped up, a crashing noise echoing in my ears, and confusion clouding my mind.  Where was I?  Unfamiliar shadows shifted in the darkness, large looming shapes seeming to form and then disappear as I tried to focus on them.  My heart racing, I sat there staring into the darkness, a moment of utter panic freezing me in place, before the fog of sleep lifted, and I remembered where I was.


    Sighing, I lifted my hand, waving it back and forth over my head until the motion sensors activated, bathing the room in light.  The shadows resolved into the familiar and non-threatening clutter of Maggie¡¯s office.  You¡¯re a little old to be scared of the dark I chided myself, leaning back in the chair.  My heartbeat was just beginning to slow back to normal when I glanced towards the computer screen and realized it was completely dark.  No, no, no, I cried, frantically shaking the mouse.  Relief washed over me when a second later, the screen sprang back to life.


    I couldn¡¯t remember the last time I¡¯d saved, and I would have been ticked if I lost all that work because I fell asleep.  Across from me, the digital clock read 7:10; at least it wasn¡¯t too late.  Quickly I hit save on the computer before powering it down and throwing the flash drive into my bag.


    The hallway was dark, and unlike the office, these lights weren¡¯t on a motion switch.  None of the lights were on, and the building felt deserted.  The shop closed at seven but where was Maggie?  Surely, she hadn¡¯t forgotten that I here.


    I kept a hand on the wall running my fingers across the brick surface as I shuffled my way towards the back door.  Walking across the archway that led to the gallery, I glanced towards the front windows.  The streetlights cast odd shadows that seemed to dance across the showroom as the curtains rippled back and forth in the wind.  I was a couple of steps into the open before my mind registered the problem.


    Why were the curtains moving?  Taking a closer look, I realized that not only were the curtains moving, but the street lights were flashing off jagged edges of broken glass.  In my earlier confusion, I had forgotten about the crash that had woken me up.


    I hoped it was just vandals, a brick thrown through a window for kicks, but movement by one of the display cases dispelled that fantasy.  Quickly I jumped out of the archway and back to the relative safety of the dark hallway.  Pressing my back against the wall, I peeked out around the corner, hoping that it wasn''t what I thought it was.


    She was upright this time, but there was no mistaking the skeletal frame standing at the front of the shop.  Swaying back and forth, she stood there, her clawed hand pressed against the wall.  I had no idea what she was doing, but at least she seemed distracted.  I considered returning to Maggie¡¯s office and calling her for help, but I rejected it almost immediately.  The creature had broken through a windshield with only a couple of strikes, it would get through that thin wooden door long before anyone could get here to help me, and there was no use pretending that it wasn¡¯t here for me.  Maggie¡¯s shop was miles from the Spencer estate.  There was no other reason for it to show up here.


    My only escape was the back door, but to get to it, I had to walk past the archway and down the hall to the back.  I¡¯d be in full view of the creature the entire time; all it had to do was lookup.  Crouching down slightly, I eased away from the wall.  The creature hadn¡¯t moved.  I crept out into the open.  Barely picking up my feet, I shuffled towards the short hall to the back door.  I was almost there when a low growl resonated behind me.  Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that the creature had turned.  Shadows obscured its face, but I could tell it was looking right at me.


    With a scream, the creature lunged forward, toppling over a large Victorian dollhouse.  As it moved further into the showroom, the air suddenly began to hum.  On the floor beneath it, a security ward activated, webs of green energy flaring up at the creature¡¯s intrusion, attempting to contain it.  It only slowed the creature for a second.  As I watched, it opened its mouth and seemed to inhale, drawing the energy from the ward into its body.  Once the ward was silenced, the creature continued forward only to be confronted again by a larger, stronger ward.


    I could see that there were still three more wards between me and it, green lines drawn on a cabinet, another on a vase, and the last and largest etched on the floor just in front of the archway leading to the hall where I stood, but at the rate it was moving they would only buy me a minute or two at most.  Seeing that it was already almost done draining the second ward, I tore my eyes from it and ran to the door.


    Hurtling into the metal frame, I frantically grabbed at the lock.  It was a heavy deadbolt, and the small nob kept slipping out of my sweaty grasp.  My bag slipped off my shoulder, catching on my elbow, dragging my already tired arm down.  Dropping the bag to the floor, I wiped my hand on my pants and willed myself not to look back as I tried again.  I could hear things being thrown to the ground as she got closer, and it was all I could do to not look over my shoulder.


    The stiff latch finally turned.  I tried to rip open the door and barreled out into the parking lot, barely catching myself against the side of Maggie¡¯s car as I skidded in the loose gravel.  The spring-loaded door slamming shut behind me, and I heard the latch slide back in place seconds before a weight crashed into it.  An unearthly wail came from the other side of the door as the creature slammed into it over and over again.  The door rattled on its frame but held tight.


    The door shuddered three more times, and then there was silence.  Carefully stepping up to the door, I placed my ear against the cool metal surface.  Hearing nothing, I stepped back.  How smart was it?  Would it be able to work the lock?  Probably not with its hands.  Would it think to go back out the window and come around?  There were no lights in the back alley, and my eyes darted from shadow to shadow, looking for any movement, trying to look everywhere at once.  I needed to get out of here.  I tried the car door, but it was locked, and Maggie had the keys anyways.  Where was she?


    I thought about making a run for it down the alley and out onto the street, but I wasn¡¯t sure I could outrun it.  With limited options, I started forming the weave.  I was so frantic that I lost it twice before I finally drew the veil forth.  Its misty border taking form a few feet in front of me.  I saw something moving at the alley entrance, and a high pitched pitiful whine rose from that direction.  Not giving a thought to where I wanted to go, I ran for the veil.  The moment my foot crossed over, I dropped the weave.


    For a moment, I thought I was safe, but the whine of the creature was quickly replaced by a near-deafening howl that seemed to be coming from every direction.  All around me, the veil trembled, large ropes of energy lashing around, as shapes began forming in the fog.  The noise continued to increase as more and more shapes materialized, encircling me.


    Crouching down, I covered my ears, trying to block out the sound, but it seemed to reverberate in my head.  As the noise grew louder, pain began to radiate from my forearm growing more intense until it felt like my entire arm was on fire.  Screaming, I let go of my ears and looked down.


    Maher''s bonding weave was flaring so brightly that I could see the glow through the fabric of my shirt.  Pulling up my sleeve, I clutched at my arm.  I had totally forgotten about the weave and hadn''t even thought about the fact that I was bringing a foreign awen into the veil.  Squeezing my eyes shut, I braced for the inevitable; I was dead.


    But they didn¡¯t attack.  They should have attacked.  They should have attacked the moment I entered the veil.  I should have been dead before I even realized what was happening. When I had exposed the shifter, they had descended on him immediately like a pack of ravenous wolves, so why weren¡¯t they doing the same now?  Cautiously I opened my eyes.  Instead of tearing me limb from limb, they floated around me, rocking back and forth.  Yellow eyes glaring out at me from misty hoods while their high pitched howls continuing to echo through the veil.  It was as if they were torn on what to do.


    It was only a tiny bit of Emily¡¯s awen, and they didn¡¯t seem to know what to make of it.  Maybe it wasn¡¯t enough to signify an actual intruder.  One drifted closer, its clawed hand reaching towards me.  I tried to drawback, but it suddenly lunged forward, grabbing my arm.  Its claw-like fingers felt icy against my skin, the cold burning almost as much as the bonding weave that was still glowing brightly.  I watched as the weave began to unravel, and the strands of energy traveled down my arm and into the guardian that held me.  Once it was removed, he released my arm and disappeared.  All around me, the others vanished as quickly as they''d arrived, leaving me frightened and alone.

 Chapter 15

    Breathing heavily, I sank to the ground.  What just happened?  Sitting there, I tried to calm my tattered nerves as the veil''s misty webs of energy enveloped me.  They were peaceful now, flowing smoothly around me, all vestiges of the earlier agitation gone.  I¡¯d never paid too much attention to the silvery strands of energy that made up the veil.  I was aware they were there, but I had always been more concerned with making sure I got my charge through as quickly as possible, but now, sitting alone, I found them soothing almost relaxing.  When they brushed against my skin, it felt like they were drawing the tension and fear from my body.


    I don''t know how long I sat there letting the veil wash over me, but when I finally did stand up, I felt calm and relaxed like I''d woken from a peaceful nap rather than having just run for my life.  No matter how much better I felt now, I knew I could stay here.  There was just the question of where to go.


    I wasn¡¯t comfortable going directly to Maggie''s.  The warding would keep me from going directly to the house.  I¡¯d have to come out down the street, and if that thing had been following me, it might try to catch up with me there.  I had no idea how intelligent it was, and I didn¡¯t want to step out of the veil only to find it waiting.  Unable to stay still, I started walking as I tried to think of what to do.  There weren¡¯t a lot of places I knew around here that I felt safe going to.


    The school was a possibility, but it would be empty, and I really didn¡¯t want to be anywhere alone.  The Vanguard office was probably the safest, but it would be warded along with the rest of the Consulate.  Amber would have been my first choice before, I knew her house as well as I¡¯d known my own, but that was out of the question now.  I couldn¡¯t just drop in on her, dragging all my problems with me.  Maybe one of the places I''d used when smuggling?  None of them were anywhere close to here, but at least I''d be well away from the creature.


    There was always Donovan.  Despite my situation, I couldn''t help the flutter in my stomach as I pictured his warm smile and remember the way it felt to have his strong arms wrapped around me.  I felt safer just thinking about him, but he clearly wasn¡¯t the same person I used to know, and things weren¡¯t mended between us.  He seemed willing, even eager, to help, but we hadn''t really talked the other night, and I wasn''t sure how he would feel about me showing up out of the blue like this.  Regardless of how he felt, his father wouldn¡¯t be happy with me turning up on their doorstep.


    I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn¡¯t immediately realize that the area around me was starting to change.  It wasn¡¯t until the usually spongy ground of the veil, gave way to gravel shifting beneath my feet that I realized I¡¯d already chosen my destination.  The gravel transitioned into a concrete path.  I waited until I approached a small porch, the outline of a blue door barely visible through the haze before I wove the doorway and stepped out of the veil.


    I was standing in front of a small, single-story concrete building.  There were no windows, and the blue door was reinforced with iron bands.  It was nearly a full moon, and there was just enough light to make out the etchings of old wards, that marked almost every inch of its surface.  None of them still held any power and hadn''t for probably decades if not longer.  I recognized the old jailhouse that sat near the back of the Brennen property.  I hadn''t thought about this place in years.  Not since grade school when Donovan and I used to dare each other to go down into the cells.


    I was staring at the door trying to figure out why, for the life of me, I had ended up here when the door opened just enough for me to make out a head of thick disheveled hair.


    "Desirae, what the hell are you doing here?"  Donovan opened the door farther, confusion clouding his blue eyes.


    He was barefoot, wearing a gray t-shirt and flannel pajamas.  Was he sleeping out here?  I could see strands of his awen already half-formed into a weave, and he held a gun in his right hand.  He quickly dropped the weave and moved the gun behind his back.


    Without a word, I moved in, wrapping my arms around his waist as I rested my head against his chest.  The calmness that had enveloped me in the veil left, and I felt my shoulders begin to shake as new tears stung my eyes.  Why was he out here? Why was he armed?  Those questions momentarily skirted across my mind, but they didn''t matter, at least not for the moment.


    "What''s wrong?  What happened?" he asked, wrapping his left arm around my shoulders, pulling me in tight.


    Unable to say anything, I stood there crying and trembling while he rocked me back and forth, whispering soothing words into my hair.  After a couple of minutes, I was finally able to pull myself together.


    ¡°Can I come in?¡±  I asked, letting go of his waist and stepping away to wipe the rest of the tears from my eyes.


    He hesitated for a moment, but then stepped back and motioned for me to go inside.


    ¡°How did you know I was here?¡±  I started to ask as I stepped past him, but trailed off once I walked inside.


    The interior consisted of one large room, which had served as a front office for the constable, and a smaller room in the back, where the guards would sleep during their rotations.  The cells were located beneath the building.  A single bulb hung from the center of the main room, casting just enough light for me to make out a small cot, piled high with blankets, in the backroom; he was sleeping out here.  The larger room had several tables pushed up against the walls, their surfaces littered with books and papers.  Faded chalk outlines of various wards, some I recognized and some I didn¡¯t, covered the center of the floor.


    "What are you doing out here?" I asked, walking over to one of the tables, my own troubles temporarily forgotten.


    "Just research," he said, quickly walking over, and gathering the papers before shoving them into a drawer where he deposited the gun as well.


    "And why are you armed?"  I asked, eying the drawer as he closed it.  "Since when do you even own a gun?  Does your father know you have it?"


    It didn''t make any sense.  His family lived in what would be considered a mansion by most people, so why was he out here in this dilapidating building, which judging by the chill in the air, didn''t even have heating.


    "Yes, he knows.  He''s the one who bought it for me.  And I''m out here because I like the solitude when I''m working," he said as he moved around the room, gathering together the books and papers, piling them up in some semblance of order.


    "Working on what?"  I asked.  Darting around him, I yanked a paper from the pile.


    He had to save the stack from toppling over, so I had a moment to look at the sheet before he snatched it from my hands.  It was a spell weave far more complicated than anything I''d seen before, with what looked like dozens of interlocking lines.  I recognized some of the patterns and thought it might have something to do with the weather, but I couldn''t be sure.


    "Some of us have to work a little harder than others," he said, placing the paper back on top of the stack.  "I come out here to practice and work on a few tricks," he said, walking over to a chair and sitting down heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly.


    I suddenly felt horrible.  I knew Donovan struggled with his magic almost as much as I did.  But where my mother had been nothing but supportive and encouraging, his father had seen his son''s lack of skill as a personal insult.  I¡¯d found a workaround with my marbles and other tricks; I couldn''t begrudge him for attempting to do the same.


    "I''m sorry," I said, sitting on the edge of the table next to him.


    "It''s okay."  He leaned back, running his fingers through his already unruly hair.  "What''s wrong?  Why are you here?  How did you even know to come out here?¡±


    I didn¡¯t have the answer as to how I knew to come here, so I focused on the why.  "That thing from Friday night came after me again."


    He sat back up, the front legs of his chair slamming down against the concrete floor.  "How''d it get in without anyone stopping it?  I thought they warded the house."


    "I wasn''t at the house," I said quickly, not wanting him to think Maggie or the others had done something wrong.  "I was at Maggie¡¯s shop.  It was warded too, not that it mattered, they barely slowed it down.  I think it feeds on awen."


    "Damn it, Des, why were you alone?  Where was your warden, or the Vanguard?" he asked, returning his attention to me, irritation overshadowing concern though it wasn¡¯t directed entirely my way.  "You have to be smarter than this.  You should know better than to be alone."


    "I didn¡¯t mean to be alone," I shot back, my own anger starting to rise.  "And what do you mean know better?  Everyone, including you, said that it hadn''t come after me specifically, remember.  Why would I have any reason to think it was still a threat?"  I wasn''t stupid; if I¡¯d had any concerns that it was after me specifically, I wouldn''t have taken any chances.  "I think it''s a Banshee," I said, trying to steer the conversation from my perceived ineptitude.


    "Why would you think that?"  Donovan asked, turning away to shuffle through some of his papers.  "What you described doesn¡¯t sound like a Banshee, to me.¡±


    Banshees were beings from Otherworld, not quite animals but not people either.  They were considered death omens, foretelling of someone''s imminent demise.  Some thought they could sense death while others surmised that since time ran differently in the veil that for the Banshee, your death had already occurred.  Regardless of how they knew, when someone was about to die, they could temporarily cross over to feed on that person''s awen as they died.  They could never stay long, immediately crossing back over once their feasting was done.


    But Donovan was right; this thing looked nothing like a screaming spectral woman, and that wasn¡¯t the only thing that didn¡¯t fit the lore.  Banshees were non-aggressive, they could sense death, they didn¡¯t cause it.  They were scavengers, not hunters, but I had given it some thought while sitting in the veil.  There were very few things that fed on awen, and when I¡¯d heard it wailing at the door, it had just clicked.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "I watched her feed on the awen in the wards.  She might not look like one, but I don''t know of anything else that does that, and if you¡¯d heard her scream."  A shiver ran down my spine as I remembered that horrifying wail.


    ¡°And you¡¯re the premier expert on all things Otherworld now?"


    "What?  No."  Why was he acting like this?  Like he was angry or offended that I might know what it was.


    "Okay, maybe your right.  Let''s say it is a Banshee; it doesn''t matter at this point.  What matters is that you need to start being more careful.  Even without that thing, there''s still the shifter," he said.  "You need to be smart.  Start taking precautions, don''t be anywhere alone, and learn to defend yourself."


    Well, that answered the question of if he knew about the shifter.  I wasn¡¯t sure if I was relieved or not.


    "I know how to defend myself," I said.  "I do," I continued after he gave me a look that clearly said he didn''t believe me.  ¡°I just wasn¡¯t prepared.  There¡¯s a difference.¡±


    "You¡¯re not always going to have a chance to be prepared,¡± he said, unconvinced by my insistence.  ¡°Don¡¯t worry; I can teach you.¡±


    Standing up, he walked over to his desk and opened the long drawer at the top.  "You''re going to start by carrying this," he said, pulling out a hunting knife, its blade covered by a leather sheath, and handed it to me.


    I pulled the knife from its casing.  The blade was a little longer than my hand, and its thin edge had a silver sheen to it.  A distinctive wavy pattern ran the length of the blade.  I knew what it was, though I''d never seen one before.


    "Where did you get a cold iron knife?"  I asked as I carefully slid the sharp blade back into its case.


    Cold iron was an ore that only came from meteorites.  The iron found on earth was always mixed with so many other elements that it had to be smelted to remove impurities before it could be used, but the iron found in rare iron-nickel meteors could be utilized without going through the heating process that regular iron needed; thus, they were cold worked and named cold iron.  It was also said to be the only thing outside of magic that could really hurt the Faye or any of the other creatures that came from Otherworld.  Conventional weapons could injure them, but they healed quickly.  That wasn''t the case with cold iron.  It poisoned the wound, making it near impossible to heal completely.


    "They¡¯re not that hard to find if you know what you¡¯re looking for and are willing to pay," he said, closing the drawer.


    "I appreciate the gesture, but I prefer using magic," I said, holding the knife back out to him.  "I''m not comfortable with knives, and besides, where will I keep it, it''s not like it will fit in my pocket."


    "Find a place," he snapped.  "I''m sorry," he quickly continued when I dropped the knife to my lap.  "But you have to take this seriously, Des.  There''s not always enough time or the right circumstances for magic.  Consider the knife a backup, okay."


    Sorry, it seemed like we were saying that a lot to each other, maybe our relationship wasn¡¯t going to recover as well as I¡¯d hoped.


    ¡°I think I need to get back,¡± I said, staring down at the knife, running my finger across the soft leather case.  Just the look of it made me uneasy. The mere thought of the blade slicing through flesh made me slightly nauseous.  I''d keep it with me because he asked me to, but I doubted I would be able to bring myself to use it.


    "Okay,¡± Donovan said, eyeing me for a moment.  Sighing, he turned away.  ¡°Let me get my keys, and I''ll take you home," he rummaged around in one of the drawers, pulling out a set of keys.


    With a last glance around the room, I got up and followed him out, wondering what had happened to the carefree boy I¡¯d known.


    "And Des, thanks for coming to me this time," he said, holding the door as I walked past him.  "I always regretted that you didn''t before.  I know you probably thought I couldn''t help you, and you might have been right, but I can help you now if you let me."


    I didn''t know what to say, so I didn''t say anything as we walked down the long path towards the main house and the garage.


    The ride back to Maggie''s passed mostly in silence.  Donovan looked over at me several times like he wanted to say something, but he¡¯d just turn his attention back to the road.  I leaned my head against the window, just wanting to rest my eyes, but exhaustion took over.


    I was back in the garage, my heart racing as my cheek pressed down against the concrete.  I could feel the weight of the creature on my back and the cold creeping through my body as my awen was slowly drained from me.  A hand on my shoulder startled me awake.


    ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± Donovan said softly, concern darkening his eyes as he watched me.


    Rubbing my eyes, I tried to wipe away the last vestige of my dream, but the feeling of being drain still lingered, leaving my body feeling achy and weak.  We were parked a few houses down from Maggie''s, and I wasn¡¯t surprised to see one of the Vanguard SUVs parked in the drive.  Up to this moment, I¡¯d forgotten about Maggie; hopefully, she had called them, at least that would mean she was alright, and if she hadn¡¯t, Emily would have realized her bonding weave was gone, and probably would have shown up on her own.


    "Do you need me to come in with you?" Donovan asked, eying the SUV.


    "No, it''s probably best if you don¡¯t," I said, opening the passenger door and climbing out.


    I waved to him from the porch to let him know he could go, but he continued sitting there.  I don''t know if he was more concerned about what Maggie and the Vanguard were going to do to me or if the creature was still hanging around.  Slipping the knife into my back pocket, I pulled my shirt down over it and opened the door.


    "Where have you been?"  Maggie said as soon as I walked inside, her voice several octaves above its usual calm pitch.


    She was coming out of the sitting room, Emily and Justin hot on her heels, all of them with dark looks on their faces.


    "I had no choice," I blurted out.  "That thing from the party followed me.  If I hadn''t entered the veil, it would have killed me.  I never set foot in Otherworld, I promise, I was just in and out."


    "Just in and out," Emily retorted, her face was tight and her eyes a little red like she''d been crying.  "I lost track of you nearly six hours ago.  Were you sitting in the veil that whole time?"


    Six hours?  Glancing at the grandfather clock ticking in the corner, I was shocked to see it was a little past one.  I couldn¡¯t have been at Donovan¡¯s for more than an hour or so, had I really spent that much time in the veil?


    "No, I didn''t know if it was safe to come back here, so I went to a friend¡¯s," I said defensively, hoping they wouldn''t ask for said friend''s name.  I didn''t want Donovan involved if he didn''t have to be.  It looked like Justin was about to ask where exactly I¡¯d been, but Emily cut him off.


    "So you were being attacked and running for your life, but you still had time to remove the bonding ward and enter the veil.  Emily said, stepping closer, her red-rimmed eyes practically burrowing into me.  Why had Emily been crying, was she that angry that it brought her to tears?


    "Going through the veil removed your mark," I said.


    "If you entered the veil with that on, you''d be dead," Emily said.


    "I don''t know what happened."  It was only a partial lie.  I couldn''t really explain what had happened and I was worried that even if I could, they wouldn''t believe me.  "It just kind of unraveled and disappeared when I crossed over."


    "Let me have a look."  She practically ripped my arm off, pulling me towards her.  Pushing up my sleeve, she placed her hand on my arm, threads of her awen extending from her fingers, brushing against my skin.  I didn''t recognize the particular weave, but I could guess what it was for.  She was looking for the residue of my awen that would show I had intentionally removed the ward myself.  When it came back with nothing, she glared at me without even offering an apology.  Without removing her hand, she started a new bonding weave thought the strands where much thicker and brighter than the first time.


    "Emily, don''t."  I heard Justin say, but it was too late.


    Pain far worse than I had felt the first time radiated up to my shoulder, causing the muscles in my arm to cramp.  I clenched my teeth against a scream.  I yanked my arm away as soon as her grip slackened and took several steps back.  At the same time, Justin stepped forward and pulled her back from me, anger tightening his mouth and eyes.  He whispered something in her ear, and she quickly left into the kitchen, her shoulders shaking.


    "She did that on purpose," I said, still rubbing my arm.


    "She did.  I''m sorry," Justin said.  "She shouldn¡¯t have acted like that.  The matter will be addressed," he continued, placing his arm on my shoulder and steering me towards the sitting room.


    He sounded genuinely apologetic, so I didn''t press further.


    "Did anything odd happen in the veil?" Justin asked once I was seated on the couch.


    Anything odd.  Like how I had come face to face with the guardians and come out unharmed.  How afterward, I had felt completely safe in a place that made most people''s blood run cold.  "No, it was the same as it''s always been," I said, unable to describe what had been different without sounding insane.


    They must have believed me because they let the matter of the veil drop and instead focused on what happened in the shop.  I explained falling asleep in Maggie¡¯s office and waking up to find everyone gone and the creature in the gallery.


    ¡°I''m sorry," Maggie apologized, sitting heavily on the couch.  "I left to drop some paperwork off at a friend''s.  I was only going to be gone for a few minutes, so I didn''t wake you,¡± she said, patting my knee.


    Neither of them liked that the creature had been able to move so easily through the wards, and the fact that it seemed to feed on the energy was even less well-received.  I passed on my thoughts about the Banshee, but they didn¡¯t seem to like it any more than Donovan had.


    ¡°Tish did a reading in the garage, and though the trail was faint, she would have recognized it if it had been a Banshee¡¯s,¡± Justin said, shooting my theory down.


    "Am I going to be in trouble?" I asked, looking down at my lap.


    "No," Maggie said, placing an arm on my shoulder and pulling me in for a quick hug.  "The evidence supports your story, so everything should be fine.  When I got back and found the window broken, your purse by the back door, and you nowhere to be found, I didn''t know what to think."


    "I didn''t mean to make you worry.  I should have come straight here.  I''m sorry."


    "It''s okay, but I think you should head up to bed now," Maggie said, standing up and pulling me up off the couch.  "I¡¯ve reinforced the wards, and the Vanguard¡¯s going to station Agents outside, you have nothing to worry about.¡±


    "But the wards didn''t help in the shop," I said, rubbing my arm and glancing towards the door as if the creature was going to burst through.


    "They slowed it down, and these are much stronger," Maggie said, trying to reassure me.  "With agents on standby outside, that will be enough.  You''ll be fine," she said, pushing me towards the stairs.


    I wanted to find a way to stay down with them without admitting I was scared to be alone, but I couldn''t think of a reasonable excuse.


    "I''m going to check on Emily."  I heard Maggie tell Justin as I reluctantly climbed the stairs.


    ¡°Desirae,¡± Justin called out when I was about halfway up.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, turning around.


    He didn¡¯t answer right away, instead, watching the way Maggie had gone.


    ¡°I suppose your friend gave you that.¡± He said, once he was sure Maggie was out of earshot, turning back to look and me, and pointedly glancing at the outline of the knife in my back pocket, his lips pulled tight.  ¡°Do you know how to use it?¡± He asked, sighing when I shook my head no.  ¡°I understand why you¡¯d want it, so I won¡¯t take it from you or mention it to the others, but just remember a cut from one of those is just as dangerous for us as it is the Faye, and you¡¯re just as likely to cut yourself as the other person if you don¡¯t know how to use it properly.  When I have time, I¡¯ll show you if you want, but until then, last resort, okay.¡±


    ¡°I honestly hope never to have to use it,¡± I said, sincerely, ¡°And I promise last resort.¡±  He just nodded and walked back to the sitting room.


    Throwing my clothes into a corner, I pulled on a nightshirt before crawling into bed.  I gathered the covers in tight and tried to convince myself everything was okay.  That I was safe, after all, the Vanguard was here.  That should make anyone feel safe, but every time I closed my eyes, that hideously scarred face flashed across my mind, and I found myself imagining I heard scraping at the window.  It was hours before I finally drifted off to sleep.

 Chapter 16

    "Do you have to knock me on my ass every time?"  Sitting on the cold ground, I glared across the yard at Donovan, whose broad smile showed that he was having far more fun than I was.


    "You need to be quicker," He said, standing about fifteen feet from me, the remnants of the air weave that had sent me tumbling to the ground, still lingering in front of him.


    "I''m trying," I muttered under my breath as I slowly stood up, rubbing my lower back.


    I¡¯d felt exhausted this morning, and Maggie had let me stay home from school, but that hadn''t stopped Donovan from showing up after school, insisting on following through with his promise to teach me how to defend myself.  Maggie hadn¡¯t been too pleased about his arrival, and I was surprised when she didn¡¯t immediately send him away.  But she hadn¡¯t said no.  Instead, she¡¯d watched silently as Donovan and I headed to the far end of the backyard, outside the range of the security wards.


    For the past hour, he¡¯d thrown weave after weave at me, while I tried desperately to shield his attacks, and it wasn''t going well.  The first time I¡¯d found myself flat on my back, staring at the sky before I even had a chance to touch my awen.  Now, I at least usually had the shield mostly formed before his weave sent me sprawling on the ground.  I had managed to get the shield in place, once, but it had so many holes it might as well not have been there at all.


    It was frustrating because I was actually good at shields.  Shielding someone else''s awen was what allowed me to get them across the veil.  I¡¯d considered myself an expert at that weave, but I¡¯d always been slow and meticulous when constructing them since one small crack would doom my charges to a horrifying death.  Throwing one together on the fly, and slamming it in place was proving to be another exercise entirely.


    "You have got to get that shield in place Des, or you''ll have no idea what¡¯s coming your way," Donovan said, for what felt like the hundredth time.


    He wasn''t entirely correct.  Since I could see his awen and the weaves he was spinning, I was well aware of what was coming my way.  There just wasn''t time to do anything about it.  It might have been better if I couldn¡¯t see what he was doing.  Watching him spin his awen made it hard for me to focus on my own, and the closer he got to completion, the more anxious I grew, and the more disjointed my own efforts became; resulting in sloppy, half-formed shields that did absolutely nothing in the way of blocking him.


    He was trying to teach me the defensive method of fighting he said the Vanguard used, where your first step was always to shield your opponent, turning the confrontation into a purely physical one on their part.  It made a lot of sense.  You had no idea what another Tuathan was capable of, so stopping their magic and limiting them to physical responses only was a solid strategic move, or would be if I had any combative skills to follow it up with.  Donovan planned to work on that too, but insisted the shielding came first.


    "You know you could try holding back a little, at least on the first day.¡±  I said, slowly getting to my feet.  ¡°Even Mr. Miyagi let Daniel wax a few cars before he threw the first punch.  How did you get so good at this anyway?"  I grumbled, some of the irritation that had been lying under the surface bubbling forth.


    When I left, he hadn''t been any better with spellcraft than I was.  The proficiency test we took our freshman year had placed his ability a little lower than my own, and I had trouble making even some of the most basic spells strong enough to actually do anything.  Yet here he was forming weaves of air insanely fast and sending a current that was strong enough to knock me off my feet.  With weaving like this, he should have exhausted his awen in the first twenty minutes.


    "I told you, I¡¯ve been practicing," he said, with a noncommittal shrug.


    I know he said he¡¯d been practicing, but it shouldn¡¯t have made him this much better.  Raw ability still mattered, and it wasn¡¯t like he¡¯d found a workaround as I had with my marbles.  These weren¡¯t new, easier weaves, he¡¯d learned or crafted.  These were the same basic ones from the proficiency test that we both practically failed.


    My mother had always insisted finesse could make up for lack of power.  With enough training, dexterity could replace innate ability to some degree.  Still, no amount of practice was going to allow me to call lightning from the sky, and I had serious doubts that practice was what was responsible for Donovan''s new-found abilities.  It was more likely that he had acquired some kind of enhancement charm and just didn''t want to admit it.  They were rare and cost a fortune since no one had had the strength or ability to make one in centuries, but with his father''s position, it wasn¡¯t out of his reach.  Donovan seemed to have a bit of a vain streak now, and if he didn''t want to admit he had a little help, well, that was his business.


    "Can you at least be a little gentler about it?  You don''t have to knock me down every time.¡±


    "Sorry, but doing it fast takes away some of the control.  I can switch to water if you want," he said with a grin.  I had no doubts he would love soaking me to the bone.


    I shook my head.  The sun was already starting to set, and the November air held a chill that my sweatshirt was barely keeping out as it was.  Cold, sore, and wet; no thanks.


    "Can we just call it a night?"


    "It''s still early."  He glanced at his watch with a sigh.  "With that thing from the party and the Shifter, I would think you''d take this a little more seriously, Des."This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "I am taking this seriously.  I wish you¡¯d stop saying that I¡¯m not," I said, turning to stomp back towards the house.


    "I¡¯m sorry," he said, following behind me.


    ¡°And stop saying you''re sorry.¡±  I stopped, turning around to glare at him.  ¡°How many times have you said that to me already over the last few days.  Half a dozen?  Why don¡¯t you try not doing things that you have to be sorry for?¡±


    "You know, you¡¯re right,¡± he said, stepping closer and leaning towards me until he was only inches away from my face.  ¡°I shouldn¡¯t be apologizing because I¡¯m not sorry.  I¡¯m not sorry that I¡¯m finding it a little difficult to forgive and forget.  You ran off without a word, not even a hey I¡¯m okay and not dead in a ditch somewhere postcard.  And then you come waltzing back without so much as an explanation or an apology.  And despite all that, here I am, disobeying my father¡¯s direct order to stay the hell away from you.  Spending my free time trying to help you stay alive, and you don''t seem to even really care.  You didn''t even have the courtesy to tell me what was going on yourself," he finished defensively.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±  The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.


    Screaming in frustration, I turned and started running the rest of the way towards the house.  He was right; I¡¯d been unkind, even cruel, leaving the way I did.  Amber and I might have been closer, but deep down, I¡¯d known that Donovan had needed me more.  Needed someone that liked him for who he was, though it wasn¡¯t who his father wanted him to be.  Someone that made him feel worthwhile.  How much could I have really valued our friendship, valued him, if I¡¯d been willing to treat him like that?


    I had just reached the steps when he grabbed my elbow, stopping me.


    ¡°Des, please don¡¯t run away from me again.¡±


    ¡°Donovan, I can¡¯t make up for what I did.  It was selfish and hurtful, and all I can say is that I am truly sorry; as trite as that might sound right now.  I don¡¯t know what I can do or say to make things better.¡±


    "Why did you leave?" he asked.


    "What, your father hasn''t already told you?"  I sounded more bitter than I¡¯d intended and immediately regretted it when a hurt look flashed across his face.


    "Whatever," he said, letting go of my elbow and turning to leave.


    It was my turn to stop him from storming off.  ¡°Don¡¯t go.  I didn¡¯t mean it like that.  I truly thought you already knew,¡± I pleaded, grabbing a handful of his sweatshirt.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what I know; I want to hear what you have to say,¡± he said, turning back to me.


    Walking over to the back porch, I sat down on the bottom stair and wrapped my arms around my knees.  He hesitated only a moment before sitting next to me.


    "I don''t know what my Mother did or where she is; dead or in prison probably," I said, without turning to look at him.  "All I know is that her name isn''t Carolyn Cradle, or it wasn''t until about fifteen years ago.  A stolen name to go with a made-up life.¡±  I could feel fresh warm tears forming, and I quickly brushed them aside.  God, it seemed like I do nothing but cry lately.  ¡°I suddenly didn''t know who I was, and I did the only thing I could think of, I ran away, away from myself as much as anything else."


    "You could have come to me.  I would have helped you," he said, his voice soft, and I could feel him looking at me.


    "There was nothing you could do," I said.  "There was nothing anyone could do."  I amended when I felt his body stiffen.


    "Maybe, but you could have given me a chance," he said.  "Maybe I can help you now."


    "With the creature or Shifter?  No, leave that up to the Vanguard," I said quickly.


    "No, not them, with your Mother."


    How could he help me with that?  "Do you know what happened to her?"  I asked, my breath catching in the back of my throat.  No, if he knew he would have already said something.  He wasn¡¯t spiteful.  He wouldn¡¯t keep that secret no matter what I¡¯d done to him.


    "No, but we can find out."


    "How?"  I was suspicious of what he thought we could do.  From the way he was looking at me, I was pretty sure I wasn''t going to like it.


    "Your house is still mostly as you left it.  Most of your Mom''s stuff was moved to the archives, but some of its still there.  Wards secure the perimeter, but the inside should be clear.  If you''re as good at using the veil as I''ve heard, we should be able to go right in."


    I had never crossed over inside before, but it really shouldn''t be any different than outside.  I found myself thinking of where the best entry spot would be before coming to my senses.


    "No," I said, more forcefully than I meant to.


    "Why not?"  Donovan asked.


    "I''m already on thin ice; I can''t be adding breaking an entry," I said, shocked that I even had to explain my refusal.  "Maybe after everything clears up with the shifter, I could risk it but not now.  I don''t have a big-name Daddy to keep me out of hot water."


    "It''s not breaking and entering. It''s your house," he said, ignoring my jibe.


    "It''s under guard whether the guards are physically there or not.  I can''t claim I didn''t know I wasn''t supposed to be there.  Besides, I''m being tracked," I said, pulling up the sleeve of my sweatshirt before I remembered that he couldn''t see the bonding weave etched on my skin.


    I saw a thin trickle of his awen move across my arm as he reached out to examine the mark.  It tingled slightly as he carefully probed at it.


    "Hey, what are you doing?"  I said, pulling my arm back.  I hoped Emily wasn''t able to feel that he was messing with it.


    "It''s a pretty simple weave," he said, once I pulled down my sleeve.


    ¡°I watched her put it on; it is not a simple weave,¡± I said.


    "Okay, the weave¡¯s not simple, but the strands holding it in place are, I''m pretty sure I could remove it and anchor it to something else for a while, no one would be the wiser."


    He sounded confident, but I didn¡¯t want to believe him.  It had been my last-ditch excuse for not going, and I didn''t like seeing it shredded.  The truth was I was scared.  Not only of what I might find, but of even opening that door which I¡¯d closed over a year ago.  My mother was gone, and whatever she¡¯d been doing was bad enough that a year and a half later, our house was still effectively under quarantine.


    "I just can''t risk it."  I could hear the desperation in my voice-A plea for him to understand.


    "It''s a chance to find out what happened, possibly the only chance," he said, getting up.  I could see the disappointment in his eyes as he looked down at me.  ¡°What happened to you Des, this is your mother we¡¯re talking about, how can you be so indifferent?¡±


    I reached out to grab his arm again, but he pulled back and quickly walked away.  I thought about going after him, but there was nothing I could say or do to stop him other than agree to go, and I just couldn''t do it.  My mother was dead, and as bad as it sounds, I needed to believe that.  He''d have to understand eventually.

 Chapter 17

    Chapter 17


    I woke with my blankets tangled around my legs so tightly that they were actually cutting off circulation.  Bleary eyes, a throbbing headache, and half retained memories of dark, confusing dreams further confirmed that I''d had a fitful sleep.  Donovan''s accusation had stayed with me, and my dreams had been filled with running, from what I wasn''t sure, but it didn''t really matter.  He was right. I did always run away, literally, when my mom disappeared and figuratively from myself ever since.


    The truth was that for the last year and a half, I had adamantly refused to even think about what led up to my self-imposed exile. Initially, numbness and anger had helped me push thoughts of my mother from my mind.  As those feelings faded, I had convinced myself that she must be dead, and there was nothing more for me to do.  Any time thoughts of her started creeping in; I¡¯d push them back down, distracting myself in any way I could until they simply stopped coming.


    Sitting on the edge of the bed, I thought about telling Maggie I was sick.  If I looked half as bad as I felt, she wouldn''t doubt me, but I needed to go to school and speak to Donovan.  It was time to stop running, and if he was willing to risk going, though he had nothing to gain, I didn''t really have a valid excuse.


    I took a little extra time to clean myself up, but Maggie still shot me a questioning glance when I came down for breakfast.  Luckily, she didn''t say anything.  Unfortunately, my luck didn''t hold.  Once I got to school, I kept an eye out for Donovan, but either he didn''t show up that day, or he was purposely avoiding me.


    After dropping me off at home, Maggie went back to her antique shop.  She¡¯d been gone a lot since my arrival, and Landry could only do so much on his own.  She was woefully behind on paperwork, and after a lot of convincing on my part agreed that the Vanguard unit that was still parked on the street was chaperone enough.  I had just settled down to do some reading that I¡¯d been putting off when the doorbell rang.  I was surprised to see Donovan standing there in a brown leather jacket and jeans.


    "I didn''t think you''d be coming over today," I said, stepping back to let him in.


    "I think you''re being a dolt, but you still need to practice," he said, coming in.  "I don''t want you getting hurt just because I''m mad."


    "Well, thanks for being honest, I guess, but I''ve changed my mind.  If you''re still up for it, I''d like to go."


    Donovan stood there for a moment in shocked silence.


    "Are you sure?"  He asked, looking at me like I was playing some kind of trick on him.


    "I''m sure."


    ¡°Where¡¯s Maggie?¡± he asked, glancing around as if I¡¯d actually be talking about this out in the open if she was still here.


    ¡°With the Vanguard taking up residence out front, she decided to go to work,¡± I said, feeling a bit guilty.  I truly hadn¡¯t expected Donovan to come by, and even though I knew my intentions had been pure, it now seemed like I just wanted her out of the house, so that I could betray her trust.


    "Okay then,¡± he said, rubbing his palms together.  ¡°You''re not going to come back on me later and say I pressured you into this, are you?"


    "No, no, it''s my decision."


    "Great, when do you want to go?"


    "Now, before I lose my nerve, would be best.  We just have to take care of my mark.  That''s if you can actually do anything about it."


    Smirking, he walked past me into the foyer.  "Of course, I can.  Isn''t there a cat around here somewhere?  I thought I saw one sitting in the window last time I was here."


    "Does it have to be the cat?  I don''t think Izzy''s going to like that too much."  I rubbed my arm, remembering the sting that had accompanied the mark.  "It kind of hurt when Emily did it to me."


    "Don''t worry; I''m not going to be binding it entirely so it shouldn''t hurt.  Unless your guard¡¯s paying close attention, it should be enough to get us by for a couple of hours, but it needs to be on something living."  I doubted Agent Maher paid any more attention to me then she absolutely had to.  Unless she was hoping to catch me doing something wrong, in which case she was about to get her wish.


    It only took a minute to find Izzy lounging in one of her preferred sunbathing spots.  Her fur was nice and warm as I picked her up and sat at the table, depositing her on my lap.  Her mild protests, quickly subsiding as I stroked her thick white fur.  Donovan rolled up the sleeve of my sweatshirt until the entire mark was exposed.


    Though Donovan couldn''t see the weave the way that I could, he deftly worked around the strands that tied it to my skin, going by touch alone.  He used his awen to sever each connection until he was pulling the still intact weave away.  Carefully, Donovan moved it over and placed it down on Izzy.  I watched as he gently connected a few strands to her back.  Izzy stopped purring, and her tail twitched a few times, but there was no other indication that it had bothered her.  I deposited her back on the cushion by the window and went to grab a jacket.


    I had never tried to open the veil inside before, but it was the only way to leave without risking the Vanguard seeing.  Though they usually sat in a van parked out front, one or more of them occasionally walked around the perimeter, so doing it out back where we had practiced yesterday was out of the question.  My heart was pounding as I lead Donovan upstairs and into my room.  He helped me push the bed against the wall, opening up a clear space in the center of the room.


    "Are you ready?"  I asked, looking over at Donovan.


    He didn''t say anything, just nodding his head.  He tensed slightly when my awen touched his skin and wound its way into his chest.  His awen didn¡¯t feel like I thought it would.  It had the smoothness that characterized all Tuatha, but there was an odd disjointedness to it.  As I wrapped my shield around it, one side of it would have a cool undertone while on the other side, it was warm, where one part felt soft, another felt hard.  I¡¯d never touched an awen that wasn¡¯t uniform throughout, and it only furthered my suspicion that he was using something to enhance his abilities. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    I didn¡¯t ask him about it, I¡¯d had my secrets, and he was entitled to his. Whatever it was, it didn¡¯t seem to affect the shield.  When my last strand fell in place, there was no awen detectible but my own.  He handled it well, only shuddering slightly when my shield cut him off.  Though I felt nothing of his awen, I wanted to be extra careful.  I checked and rechecked, making sure it was tight and securely in place before directing my efforts to make contact with the veil.  Walking to the edge, I looked back, surprised that Donovan hadn''t moved.  He was standing there, chest heaving, staring at the panel of mist.


    "It''s okay.  I''ve had lots of practice.  I¡¯m actually quite good at this part."  I tried to reassure him reaching my hand back behind me.


    Taking a deep breath, he came up next to me, clasping my hand.


    "Are you ready?"


    Once he nodded, I squeezed his hand and stepped forward, pulling him with me, physical touch wasn''t necessary, but I found that it usually helped relieved at least some of the anxiety.  His hand trembled slightly beneath my fingers, but his stride was steady as we moved forward.


    I had never purposely tried to go from one place on Earth to another without first crossing over to Otherworld, the thing with Donovan''s house had been a complete accident, and I didn''t want to intentionally try that for the first time when Donovan was with me, especially when I was uncertain on how much our final destination might have changed from my memories.  Besides, even though he hadn¡¯t asked, I knew Donovan was itching for a chance to see Otherworld, so I held in my mind one of my favorite spots.


    I pictured a grassy field nestled between an evergreen forest and a pond, with several large cypress trees jetting out from its glassy surface.  I thought about the dark shale that lined one side of the shore and the outcrop of rocks that looked almost like an elephant sitting on its back legs with its trunk extending into the water.  Things that made the place unique.


    It was one of the first places Ben had taken me when I was learning to traverse the veil, and with all the traveling I¡¯d done since, it was still one of the most beautiful places I''d seen.  There were no settlements for miles, and if someone happened to see us, we would be long gone before they could summon the authorities.


    As we approached our destination, shapes began to take form in the mist.  The ground became spongy, and the air carried the scent of moisture, moss, and the soft hint of decay that always seemed to linger around larger bodies of water.  Not wanting to risk coming out too close to the water''s edge, I formed the weave for the connection, but the opening didn¡¯t appear.  Instead, the mist of the veil seemed to shudder, and the weave dissolved.  It didn¡¯t fall apart like it would if I¡¯d done something wrong, it simply melted away.


    "Is something wrong?"  Donovan asked when I came to a stop.  I had never had trouble leaving the veil before.


    "No."  He was nervous enough as it was, and I didn''t want to heighten his anxiety.  I took a moment to double-check his shield just to be safe.  "We just need to get a little closer," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.


    I¡¯d give it one more shot before turning back to go somewhere else.  There were several other secluded places we could come out in that would be safe enough.  That¡¯s as long as the veil let us out.  I pushed down the unwelcome thought and moved forward.  As we walked closer, the smell of decay grew stronger until it was nearly overwhelming.


    "Where are you taking us?"  Donovan forced a laugh as we both nearly gagged on the stench.


    The ground beneath our feet went from spongy to swampy.  Worried that we would soon be wading through water, I tried the weave again.  It wavered for a moment, fading to near transparency before it took hold.  Yanking Donovan forward, I drug him through the opening.


    My sigh of relief died in my throat.  The veil had dampened the smell, but now that we were fully in Otherworld, the rancid odor hit us with enough force to make my stomach heave.  Beside me, I could hear Donovan making small retching noises.  I immediately spotted the source of the smell.


    A large corpse had washed up on the shore.  By the looks of it, it had been there for a while.  A few strands of a black mane clung to green skin that was receding from the skull.  Most of the bone of its long, tapered snout was exposed, revealing a mouth of sharp serrated teeth.  Two long hoofed legs jutted out from its bloated body.  The bottom half, which the water brushed over as it lapped against the shore, had been eaten away so that only the bony spine of its finned tail remained.


    "What the hell."  Donovan brought his hand to cover his mouth and nose, trying to physically block the smell or hold back the vomit rising in his throat.  I could feel my stomach quiver again, and I was glad I had been too worked up to eat much at lunch.


    ¡°Kelpie,¡± I said.  I immediately regretted opening my mouth.  You could actually taste it in the air.  Half horse, half fish the kelpie was one of the odder specimens of Otherworld.  Like everything else in Otherworld, it had its own kind of magic.  How else could something like that swim?


    The rotting kelpie wasn''t the only unsettling thing.  The once clear water was now covered with a thick greenish-gray moss that bubbled up every now and then as if something immense was swimming just beneath the surface.  The tall cypress trees were a sickly brown and either dead or dying, their thick roots covered in black specks.  A few feet from shore, the moss swelled up, and I quickly pulled Donovan back from the water''s edge.  I wasn''t sure how far of a reach kelpies had.  If it even was a kelpie.  Maybe something far worse had moved in, polluting the pond.


    I had been so taken aback by the lake itself that I had failed to notice that the rest of the area was just as bad.  No wonder we had trouble coming through, this place barely resembled what I¡¯d pictured.  Though the ground itself was still pliant from saturation, the soft green grass had been replaced by dark, brittle blades that broke and crunched with each step.  Bending down, I took my finger and pushed down on one of the blades.  Its point was sharp enough to cut, causing blood to bead on my fingertip.


    I started to stick my finger in my mouth but thought better of it.  Who knew what kind of sickness might have infected this place.  Turning around, I almost cried when I saw that the towering evergreen trees that had stood straight and proud now grew twisted and bent, their trunks covered with the same black specks that marred the cypress trees and their needles the same black as the grass that covered the ground beneath them.  In the shadowy depths, I could make out currents of energy slithering against the trunks.  Most of it halted at the forest''s edge, but a few tendrils crept out in our direction as if they could sense prey nearby.


    "The Wilds," Donovan''s said, barely above a whisper.


    So, this was what had the Faye considering a truce after thousands of years of conflict.  I could understand why.  Ben had taken me to the edge of the wilds once during training.  They had seemed a little darker than the rest, the magic flowing through it a little wilder, hence the name, but otherwise, they hadn¡¯t been that bad.  The kind of place you didn¡¯t want to venture into alone or after dark, but nothing like the nightmarish sight growing before us. This place was not only dark but diseased.  No one in their right mind would willingly go anywhere near it day or night.


    "You certainly know how to show a guy a good time," Donovan said, trying a little too hard to regain some of his usual humor.


    "We need to leave."  Not only where we too close to the shore for comfort, but I didn''t like how the oily grey tendrils were making a beeline towards us.


    Donovan gave no protest, and we both practically ran through the weave I had left standing, seeking the relative safety and comfort of the veil.

 Chapter 18

    Still shaken by the sight of the wilds, I decided to keep it as simple as possible.  First, I imagined the front of the house.  A light gray flagstone path about three feet wide ran from the sidewalk to a wood porch painted all in white.  I picture a green door with a silver knocker.  I purposely left the flower bed and row of roses from my image; those might have changed drastically since I last saw the place and might hinder the connection I was looking for.


    Though the experience with the pond had shown me I didn¡¯t have to be nearly as accurate as I thought, I still wanted to play it safe.  After a few minutes, the path I¡¯d imagined appeared before us.  This is where I usually would have used the weave and brought us into the real world, but we needed to get past the wards that guarded the house and hope that there were no more inside.


    Cautiously I moved forward, keeping a wary eye on the faint glow of the wards that lined the path, sure that at any moment they would flare to life, ensnaring us.  I couldn¡¯t help but breathe a sigh of relief when we passed the last ward without incident.  I shifted my focus to the interior.


    Behind the green door was a small hallway, hardwood floors stained with an aged finish, and a row of four steel hooks secured to a cream-colored wall.  Donovan hesitated as we approached the door, but I walked right through, pulling him with me.  The door wasn''t really there, at least not yet.  A wooden bench that I hadn''t pictured sat against the wall, but the rest of the hall was clear.  I made sure that there was plenty of room for both of us, no hands or feet sticking through a wall or piece of furniture, before opening the connection and stepping through.


    Donovan practically collapsed on the bench with a sigh as I released my shield.  After my encounter with the Vanguard, I could understand how he felt.  The feeling of loss and vulnerability that came with losing access to a part of you was almost unbearable.


    "Are you okay?"  I asked, reaching out to touch his shoulder, but he pulled away.


    "Yeah, I¡¯m fine," he said, sitting up straighter.  "I just didn''t know it would feel like that."


    "I''m going to look around," I said, stepping back.  He would need a few minutes to recover, and he probably wouldn''t appreciate me hovering.


    Donovan had been right; most of our things were still here, though now strewn around and toppled over with a fine layer of dust covering everything.  Paintings had been removed from the walls and left to rot in a corner, while books that had once sat in orderly lines on shelves were now piled haphazardly on the floor, spines broken, and pages strewn about.  Pillows and cushions had been cut open, and upholstery ripped from wood frames.  Did they really think my mother would hide something in the furniture?  I wanted to cry as I looked over what had once been our home, our belongings, treated like trash.


    I¡¯d been planning to look around the entire house, more for sentimental reasons than anything else, but the sight of the living room quickly squashed that idea.  I didn''t want to see the rest of my home torn apart.  Besides, there was only one room with any chance of having something worth finding, my Mom''s office.


    My heart sank when I opened the door, unlike the living room where everything had been thrown around but still there, here things were just missing.  Sitting in the chair behind her desk, I put my head down and let my mind go blank.  I could feel the tentative hope that had bloomed, wilting beneath the weight of reality.


    "Are you okay?"  Donovan stood in the doorway, watching me.  When our eyes met, he took a tentative step towards me but stopped as if he was unsure of whether I wanted comfort or solitude in my misery.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "There''s nothing here."


    "We haven''t even looked yet."


    "Look around, Donovan; everything is gone.  There is nothing here."  I waved my arm in the general direction of the bare shelves.


    "Nothing obvious at least," he said, walking further into the room.  ¡°You give up too easily.¡±


    Rolling the chair back a little, I made a show of opening each of the desk drawers and slamming them shut when they turned out to be empty just as I expected.  Sighing Donovan opened the closet door making a quick but thorough examination of each shelve.  Even going as far as to run a thin thread of awen across every surface, in case something was concealed there.


    Wallowing in self-pity, I sat silently, refusing to help as he moved from the closet to the bookcases, again running his hand and a strand of awen over each surface.  He took his time examining the top and bottom of every shelf.  He even checked the door and window frames before finishing up with the desk.  I rolled the chair back, giving him room.  He removed each drawer, inspecting every side and the space it came from carefully.  Eventually, he had to admit defeat, setting the drawers back in place.


    "What a surprise.  The Vanguard''s actually good at their jobs," I said, as he wiped the dust from his hands onto his pants.


    "Desirae, that''s enough."  He sighed.  "What is wrong with you?  Why do I care more about this then you do?  Your mother''s missing for crying out loud, and all you''ve done is run away and mope around."


    "She''s not missing.  She''s dead."


    "You don¡¯t know that," he said, his voice softening as he crouched down in front of me, taking my hands.


    "Then, where is she?"  I said, blinking back tears.  ¡°The Vanguard doesn¡¯t have her; most of their questions had been about where she would have gone.¡±


    "I don''t know, but you have to believe there''s a chance she''s still out there," he said.


    "If she''s still out there, it means she doesn''t want to get in touch with me,¡± I said, the tears coming in earnest now.


    "She didn''t leave you."  Donovan leaned forward, resting his hand on the back of my head as he pressed his forehead against mine.  "You know that."


    "No, I don''t know that," I said, pulling away and sitting back in the chair.  "I don¡¯t know anything about her.  Everything I thought I knew about her, about myself is a lie, and I hate her for it."


    It was something that I¡¯d never said out loud before, something that I¡¯d never even really fully acknowledge to myself.  I¡¯d lost my friends, my home, my family, and even myself.  I blamed her, and a small part of me hated her for it.  I still loved her, but the anger and resentment were there.  It wasn¡¯t just that she had lied to me but because she had decided something else was more important than me, than us.  The Vanguard didn¡¯t come into our lives on their own she had drawn them in with whatever she¡¯d been doing that day.


    "Desirae, you do know about her." He sighed.  "Yes, she was hiding something, but that doesn''t change who she was to you.  You need to stop thinking that way.  She may not be Carolyn Cradle, but she is still your mother, she loves you and would never have willingly left you."


    "Then that puts us right back or her being dead."  I was being stubborn, and I knew it, but I was terrified that she was out there and had decided life was easier without me.


    "She''s not."  Donovan stood up and walked over to the desk.  "Dad won''t talk about it, so I can''t know for sure, but with the way everyone was acting after you left, they don''t think she''s dead."


    I had convinced myself that there was nothing I could do; she was gone and never coming back.  Now a cold dread settled in my stomach.  What if I was the one who abandoned her?


    "If they couldn''t find her, what hope do we have?"


    "Not much, but I had thought if we could get some clue on what she was hiding, we might have a chance.  I can''t imagine she completely wiped out everything she ever was."  Grabbing my hands in his, he gave them a squeeze.  "Come on, Des, think.  Is there anywhere she would have kept private things that she didn''t want anyone to find?  Somewhere she would consider safe?"


    Her office would have been my first guess, but nothing was here, at least nothing that hadn¡¯t already been found and carted away.


    "There''s a cabin she used to rent whenever she was finishing up a manuscript,¡± I suddenly blurted out.  ¡°She always rented the same one, and if it were unavailable, she would change her schedule until it was.  I actually went there after she disappeared, thinking she might try to meet up with me there.¡±


    "Can you get us there?"


    "Yeah," I said, standing up.

 Chapter 19

    I''d hung around the cabin for two weeks waiting for my mother to show up, I''d have no problem getting us there.  I put Donovan''s shield back in place and opened the veil.  I had an open area in mind, so I decided to try going straight there rather than stopping in Otherworld first.  It was already getting late, and I didn''t feel like we had the time.  Besides, most of my crossover spots were in largely unpopulated areas, which meant that they tended to be at least in the vicinity of the wilds, and I wasn''t too keen on getting close to them again.  Within ten minutes, we were walking up a gravel drive towards a log cabin.


    It was a smaller cabin near Shenandoah national park.  Resting on the edge of the Appalachian foothills, the cabin''s back porch jutted out over the hillside supported by posts, above the wooded slope.  People usually came up here to hunt and fish, secluded, and well off the beaten path.  It was a beautiful place to get away from it all.  I hadn''t spent much time here myself; it was mom''s getaway.  It was too quiet for me, and I¡¯d always felt like the cabin was about to slide off into the ravine.


    It was getting late, and the shadows of the trees stretched over the cabin, but there were no lights on inside.  That was a good sign I didn''t know what we would do if someone had been here.  The way Donovan was acting lately, he might have risked using magic on humans to get us in, and I don''t think I would have stopped him.


    It was colder up here, and I huddled in my jacket, as we walked up the drive, the gravel crunching beneath our feet.  I watched as Donovan messed with the lock for a minute before it clicked open.


    "We''re going to have to hurry," I said, glancing up at the setting sun.  Maggie probably wouldn''t be home for another couple hours, but we were pushing it as it was.


    "Just a quick look around.  We can always come back later," he said, swinging the door open and stepping back so I could enter first.


    The cabin was freezing, the winter chill seeming to have crept into its very core.  It was clearly not in use and hadn''t been for a while.  Reaching out, I flipped the switch and was relieved when the lights sprang to life.  It was starting to get dark, and we hadn''t brought any flashlights.


    "Let''s split up," Donovan said, coming in behind me.  "You check the bedrooms; I''ll get the living room and office."


    My mother might have spent a lot of time here, but it wasn''t like going home.  There was nothing physical of my mother''s presence in the cabin.  Stepping into the first bedroom, I did a quick search opening the closet and pulling out the drawers in the dresser.  Since I could see weaves, I didn''t need to search using a spell as Donovan did, and I was done in under ten minutes and moving on to the second bedroom.  I¡¯d completed both bedrooms and the bathroom by the time that Donovan had finished the living room.  We went to the study together.


    Sitting down at the desk, I started pulling out the drawers as Donovan had at my house while he worked his way down the bookcases.  We worked in silence, methodologically checking every space and surface.  I had just put the last shelf back in place when something caught my eye.


    "Wait, what was that."  I sat up in my chair as he jumped back, startled by the sudden noise.


    "What?  I didn''t see anything."  He bent down to get a better look into the shadowy space he¡¯d just inspected.


    Getting out of the chair, I knelt in front of the case.  A small weave no larger than a dime rested in the back corner of one of the shelves.  Sitting in the chair, it had been right at eye level when Donovan had pushed an empty wicker basket to one side; otherwise, I would have missed it.  Leaning forward, I could make out a tiny hole in the middle of the weave.  I sent a small flow of awen into it.  When I made contact, the weave began to expand.  Beyond the open space, I saw the silvery threads of the veil.


    Unable to see what I did, Donovan gave a start and grabbed my wrist when I reached forward.


    "It''s okay," I said.  He released my wrist.


    He let out a soft whistle when my hand disappeared into the back of the bookcase.  I was almost up to my elbow when my fingers brushed against what felt like a large book.  It was heavy, and I had to drag it forward until I could get a better grip.  Pulling out the book, I stood and carried it back to the desk while Donovan took a closer look at the weave, reaching his hand into the opening.


    "I felt nothing," he said, as he removed his hand and channeled another small thread of awen.


    I watched as it slid through the weave as if it wasn''t there.


    "I still feel nothing," he said incredulously.  ¡°There¡¯s nothing like this in the book,¡± he said, standing up.


    I¡¯d only been half-listening; my attention focused on my find.  ¡°What book?¡±


    ¡°Uh, just a book of spells I¡¯ve been looking through,¡± he said, walking up to me.


    ¡°Why would you think my mother¡¯s weave would be in your spellbook?¡±  There were thousands of spell books out there, each as unique as the person who penned them.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t. It just has a lot of odd spells in it that¡¯s all,¡± he said, walking up to me.  ¡°What do you think¡¯s in it?¡± he asked, peering over my shoulder.


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s find out,¡± I said, my voice shaking slightly.  Sitting down, I placed the book on the desk.  My hands were trembling as I opened the cover.


    I don''t know what I was expecting, an ''if you''re reading this'' note that explained what had happened and what steps I should take from this point on, or perhaps a journal detailing my mother''s every thought.  What I wasn''t expecting to find, hidden behind that tiny little spell that had been placed so carefully, was a photo album.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    My mom wasn''t really into photos.  There wasn''t a single picture in our house from before I was born.  Mom had always said she had never had the nostalgia bug until I came along.  With everything else she''d lied about, I guess it wasn''t surprising that she''d lie about that as well.  Thinking that there must be something tucked away among the pages, I quickly thumbed through, keeping an eye out for any more hidden wards that might be concealing a gem of information.


    Nothing but glossy photos.  They weren''t even artistically arranged, just lined up on each page in two columns of three.  The first several pages contained black and whites of people and places I didn''t recognize, but I finally came across one of a smiling girl with dark brown hair and a small birthmark on the left side of her chin.  There was something about her smile and the way her head tilted to the right that made her seem so familiar, but from the style of the dress and the chronology of the pictures, this one had been taken at least a decade before I was even born.


    She was about seven or eight sitting on the front porch of an old farmhouse.  Her big smile, posed with her skirt arranged just so, and her hands resting primly on her knees said that she was thrilled to have her picture taken, unlike the sulky teenage boy who glared next to her.  I peeled back the plastic cover and pried the picture loose, hoping to find something written on the back, names or a date, anything I could use to identify who these people were and why they were important to my mom, but there was nothing.


    Putting it back, I continued, following the brunet through the years as she grew.  I randomly pulled pictures out, checking the backs just in case, but all of them were blank.  I paused at one that must have been taken at junior or senior prom.  The brunet was sitting in a white lattice chair with that same smile and head tilt from her picture on the porch.  Her pale violet dress with its full skirt brought out the sparkle in her green eyes while a handsome man with thick dark hair and deep-set eyes stood next to her in a tux, his hand resting on her shoulder.  There was something familiar about him.


    On the next page was the picture I was looking for.  I was starting to wonder why my mother had an album documenting someone else''s life.  But there she was standing next to the brunet.  Their arms wrapped around each other''s waists.  Her ash blonde hair hung straight to her shoulders, pale blue eyes staring out from a narrow face with high cheekbones and a small pointed chin.  I had always thought my mother had one of the most beautiful faces I''d ever seen.


    I lingered on the photo, running my finger over her face as if I could actually touch her through the aged photo.  I didn''t want to move on, but Donovan cleared his throat as if to say we don''t have time for this, and I reluctantly turned the page.  High school gave way to college, my mom made an occasional appearance in group shots, but most of the pictures were still of the brunet.  Who was this woman?  I was thumbing through quickly approaching the end when one of the very last pages caused me to stop dead.  I pulled it out for a closer look.


    Unlike the others, it was a newspaper clipping rather than a photo.  Staring out from the black and white image was the brunet again and her date from the prom photo.  They were standing with two other men.   They looked close, arms draped over each other''s shoulders and broad smiles for the camera, standing in front of the Spencer Estate.  I only recognized it because of the consulate party last week, but that wasn''t what had drawn my attention.


    I hadn¡¯t fully recognized him in the previous photo, but now.  His stick-thin frame had filled out over the years, and the full head of wavy brown hair was already receding from his temples, it was Jason.  I hadn''t been close to Jason, just one of the many underlings he employed, but I had met him a few times, and he had never once even hinted he knew anything at all about my mother.  Sur, I wasn''t positive he really knew her, after all, she was probably in less than a dozen pictures in the album.  She wasn''t in this one, but the fact that she had his photo at all made me suspicious.  Maybe meeting him hadn''t been as accidental as I had thought.


    Donovan cleared his throat, and I looked up.  "Is everything okay?"


    "Just a newspaper clipping," I said, holding it up for him to see.  "But I recognized the tall man on the right.  He''s who I worked for while I was gone."


    "The smuggler?" he said, flipping the picture over, but there was just a paragraph from an unrelated article printed on the back.


    "Did he know your mom?"  Donovan asked, suspicion clouding his voice.


    "I don¡¯t know," I said, taking the clipping back.  "It''s weird; my mom isn''t even in hardly any of these pictures.  I think she and the brunet were friends, but other than that, I have no idea who these people are or why she was hiding their pictures."


    "How did you end up working for him?"


    "It just kind of happened."


    I''d been living out of a homeless shelter in Indianapolis for a couple of weeks, and it wasn''t going well.  I''d had nothing when I ran, and I was too scared to go by the house.  I¡¯d hit up an ATM as soon as I left the consulate office, but four hundred had been the max I could take out in a single day.    A bus ticket, change of clothes, and toiletries had immediately put a sizeable dent in my funds, and though the shelter served meals, my money was dwindling at an alarming rate.  There should have been more in my account, but when I went to make a withdrawal, it had been empty.  Scared that they¡¯d be able to follow me, I¡¯d taken off again.


    Hopping from town to town, I¡¯d tried looking for jobs, but even though I could use my awen to convince them to overlook my age, there was nothing I could do about the proof of ID, social security card, and other paperwork they insisted on having.  I had been sitting at a twenty-four-hour diner, taking advantage of their free refills, when he had sat down in the booth across from me.  Sure I''d been found out my heart sank to my stomach.  He appeared to be alone, but I didn''t even think about trying to make a break for it.


    But he wasn''t who I thought he was.  He ordered breakfast, ham and cheese omelet with wheat toast, and sat there chatting like we were old friends.  I was beginning to think he was just crazy or some pervert who meant to proposition me, it wouldn''t be the first time, though he was taking an absurdly long time to get to the point.  And then he dropped the bomb, he knew who I was, and he knew what I could do.


    It turned out that he did have a proposition for me, just not the kind I had thought.  He promised me a steady job and a steady paycheck.  Was I naive boarding on stupid?  Definitely.  Did I need help?  Absolutely.  Looking back, it should have raised more red flags than it did.  How had he found me?  How did he know what I could do?  I¡¯d been careful about using my awen, and I¡¯d never felt a reading or seen a weave being used, so how would he know.


    ¡°Let¡¯s check one more time.¡±  Putting the picture back, I closed the album.  We were running out of time, but I couldn¡¯t leave, not yet.  This really couldn''t be it.  The album had only raised more questions, not answered them.


    While we worked, Donovan tried to fish for more info on Jason, but he eventually gave up when I refused to answer.  We searched for another fifteen to twenty minutes, but ultimately, we had to give up.  There was nothing else to be found.  Donovan suggested checking the rest of the house, but it was getting late, and we were out of time.  I still had to worry about not getting caught.  Cradling the album against my chest, I shielded Donovan and made the weave to take us home.