Blood, Smoke and Mirrors (2010) (16 page)

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Lex struggling to finish off the final demon--his back was turned to me, and he had no idea I'd fallen. Dorian left his dagger buried in my belly as he stood, and I reached weakly for it. "You thought you could be Titania. Stupid witch, your kind isn't strong enough to hold it. Maureen certainly wasn't."

"At least I'm not a monster like you," I countered, my voice weak and strained. My fingers fumbled as I tried to grip the hilt of the dagger, and he began to speak the words of a spell--a killing curse that would end this and make him Oberon. I'd come so far, only to lose here.

Suddenly he broke off and dodged out of the way as a silver spearhead split the air where he'd been standing. Furious, Lex moved in a blur as he drove Dorian away from me. The only thing that kept my father from becoming a necromancer shish-kebab was his shields, and I knew those wouldn't last long.

I tugged on the hilt, but I couldn't remove it, my hands too slick with blood... Blood. Dammit, I was a witch, I could fix this.
Heal
, I thought as I tugged the dagger free.
Heal.
The word repeated over and over through my mind. Blood flowed from the two wounds, but I was sure I could feel them beginning to close with a wave of stinging energy. I lurched to my feet and snatched up my top hat and rapier, the blade still glowing with divine magic. With the hat mashed securely down on my head, I stumbled toward Dorian.

The demons were gone. Lex must've finished off the last of them while Dorian was stabbing me. Too focused on each other to notice my approach, the guardian and the necromancer faced each other, trading snarled threats. I edged close to them, raised my rapier, and shouted my father's name. Surprised, he whirled toward the sound of my voice, and I stabbed my father through the heart.

The rapier hesitated for a moment at the barrier of his shield before plunging through and piercing his chest. Black fire spread from the blade and engulfed him in a hissing whoosh. Withdrawing the weapon, I watched as Dorian collapsed to the ground, writhing in the throes of terrible agony. Screaming, he tried to extinguish the magical flames.

"I am not my mother. My will is stronger, my blood more potent." I stood over him, and I took a long look at the rapier. The blade continued to glow with ethereal fire, and I turned my gaze back to Dorian. "I am Titania, and I am your judge. You murdered my cousin because you wanted this position. You murdered my mother because she hindered your plans to live forever. This ends here."

Lunging forward, I plunged the rapier through his chest and pinned him to the ground, ceasing his attempts to fight the flames. I wavered, unsteady from my injuries, but then I felt Lex slide a steadying arm around me. Dorian looked up at us in terror, and I watched him with grim determination. Without remorse I spoke the spell that sealed his fate:

"The laws of nature you sought to breach,

Now your judgment you have reached.

Punishment for your evil deeds times three,

To set the spirits of the wronged free.

The end of your life's thread has come,

Let Titania's justice now be done."

It was not a peaceful death by any means, but Dorian had no right to one. Plucking the Justice card from the band of my top hat, I dropped it onto my father's chest and the edges curled and blackened. I left the rapier and stepped away from the body, leaning into Lex. My legs buckled, and he scooped me up.

"Hold on, honey, I'm gonna get you out of here," he assured me. I closed my eyes and gave a silent prayer of thanks to the Morrigan for her aid, and when I opened them again we were in the Underhill great hall, standing in front of Cecelia and the council.

Chapter Fourteen

"Help her, she's wounded," Lex demanded. He laid me down on the floor and I watched the earthen ceiling spin above me, reminding me of my first appearance in this room.

Cecelia turned to the faerie on her right. "Horatio, if you would be so kind?"

Horatio stood and walked over to me. He was short, squat, with rough brown skin that indicated an earth faerie of some variety. For a moment he looked me over, and then nonchalantly waved a hand above my body. Warm, soothing energy spread through me, and the pain and faint feeling faded away.

"Thank you," I said softly. The faerie's head inclined slightly at my words as he returned to his seat. Lex helped me to my feet, and we stood together in front of the council.

"Congratulations, you've both performed well during the trials," Cecelia announced, and I frowned.
Both of us?
"Catherine Marie Morrow, it is the belief of this council that you have proven yourself to be able to adequately perform the tasks of Titania of your region. We offer you this position, and if you accept it you will be initiated during the next full moon of your realm. Do you understand?"

"I do."

"Do you agree to these terms?"

"Yes."

"Very well," she replied, nodding in satisfaction. Cecelia turned to Lex. "Alexander Duquesne, when it became apparent that you are Miss Morrow's soul mate we endeavored to include you in the testing process. Though you did not participate in the first test, it is the belief of this council that you have proven yourself adequate to perform the tasks of Oberon for your region. You will serve as Oberon jointly with Catherine as Titania, but you cannot be both guardian and Oberon. Therefore, if you accept this, you must forfeit your position as guardian and the abilities that accompany it. We offer you this position, and if you accept it you will be initiated during the next full moon of your realm. Do you understand?"

Silence hung heavily in the air for a long, numb moment. The words "soul mate" stuck in my thoughts, tumbling over and over. Lex had said that we shared a connection, but it hadn't occurred to me that it was a
connection.
Soul mates are a rare thing--a person might live through several life cycles and never come across their soul mate. The idea that I'd found mine was shocking, and the idea that I'd almost let him slip away from me was even more so. Glancing over at him, I saw his expression was carefully controlled, not letting any hint of his thoughts show through.

"If I refuse, will Catherine still become Titania?"

My heart sank--he didn't want to work with me. I suppose I should've expected that. Lex hadn't been willing to jeopardize his position for me before, I guess it'd been foolish to hope he'd be willing to do it now, soul mates or not. I was such an idiot for trusting him again.

"Yes. Though I feel I should warn you that her position will be weakened if you choose not to become Oberon. Do you agree to these terms?" Cecelia asked.

"I need more time to consider."

"Very well. You will have until the full moon to make your decision. Until you make your choice, you will not be allowed use of your guardian powers or responsibilities, as they may unduly influence you. You both may go now, blessed be." With a very slight bow of her silvery head she dismissed us, and we were transported into my apartment. Lex and I stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom.

Tossing my top hat onto the bed, I crossed the room and snapped on the lights. Opening the door, I headed into the kitchen, where I turned the lights on and started to wash the blood from my hands. I didn't turn to see if Lex followed. I wasn't sure what I'd say to him at the moment.

It was strangely quiet in my apartment. The air conditioner in my bedroom was off, and my cats were still in Faerie. Once my hands were clean I looked down and noticed the bloody stab wounds in my shirt. "Great," I muttered. I really needed to add some Kevlar to my wardrobe.

Returning to the bedroom, I found Lex still standing where I'd left him. His lost, haunted expression was almost enough to suck all the anger right out of me. Almost.

"You gonna stand there all night?" I began unlacing the cuffs of my swordswoman shirt. I needed a shower to clean up. I had a feeling that either we were going to be showering together in a fun way, or we were going to have a big fight and I'd be crying alone in the shower afterwards.

I wasn't giving myself good odds on the fun option.

"You're going to turn it down, aren't you?"

Looking up at me, he frowned. "It's not a simple decision, Cat."

"No shit, Sherlock, but everybody around me bullied me into trying to be Titania.
Oh, you'll be so good at it, it's for the good of the region.
Blah, blah, blah." With the cuffs unlaced, I started on the collar of the shirt. "Not so fun when the shoe's on the other foot, is it?"

"This is different." He slowly flexed the fingers of his right hand, staring down at it as though it'd fallen asleep and he was trying to restore feeling to it.

"No it's not."

"You're asking me to--"

"To give up your life? The thing that makes you special? To be outcast from your family and friends?" I interrupted. "Gee, sounds familiar somehow."

"That's not funny."

"I'm not laughing, Lex." Tugging the shirt off, I held the garment up to the light. It looked like a piece of evidence on a crime show. I almost considered keeping it as a souvenir, but decided to toss it instead. I started to walk out of the room to pitch it into the trash in the kitchen, but I paused as I passed Lex. His magic smelled different--instead of the muddled mix I associated with guardian, he now had the sharp winter chill of an ice sorcerer.

"At least you still have magic," I commented. "Was your family made up of sorcerers before they became guardians?"

"How'd you know that?" he asked, surprised.

I shrugged in reply, and then continued out into the kitchen and tossed my shirt into the garbage. Lex followed me this time and stood hovering in the doorway. "Bein' a guardian is more than a position, it's my entire life. It's who I am. Duquesnes have been guardians for generations. There was never a question of what I'd be when I grew up, only a question of where I'd serve. You're askin' me to give all that up, and not only for me, but maybe even for my children."

Our children,
I corrected silently. My eyes stung and I turned away, standing over the sink as I fought to keep my composure. There's very little sunshine and rainbows in being a magician--being able to do magic makes your life harder, not easier, and finding your soul mate isn't a guarantee for a romantic happily ever after. My odds of a happily ever after seemed to be shrinking by the minute. Taking a deep breath, I turned and faced him again.

"Look, I know you didn't know this was coming, and I'm sorry. I had no idea about the soul mates thing, and even if I did, I wouldn't have expected this from the council. I've never heard of anything like it before," I said, trying to placate him. Crossing to the kitchen table, I plopped down into a chair, intending to remove my boots, but then I noticed an odd expression on Lex's face. He was hiding something. "You didn't know, right? That this was coming? Did you?"

"I didn't know that they'd offer Oberon to me."

"But you knew about the soul mates?" I asked incredulously, and he nodded. "For how long?" Annoyed, I unknotted my bootlaces and started loosening them.

"Since the attack at Silverleaf castle, when you picked up the spear. There're protective spells on it--only a guardian can handle a guardian's weapon. Anyone else who tries is wounded when they touch it, but you weren't. It didn't harm you 'cause your aura's in tune with my magic. It's the same reason I keep gettin' past your shields."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I guess I thought you had enough to worry about right now without hearin' that too. Would it have changed anything?"

"I had a right to know." My fingers clenched around the chunky heel of my boot as I seriously considered hurling it at his head, but then I forced myself to drop it. The boots hit the floor with a loud thump, one after the other. I could not
believe
that he didn't tell me something that important.

"What are you doing?" Lex raised an eyebrow, seeming confused.

"Gonna take a shower."

"Don't you think you should--" he paused, and then frowned.

"Should what? Wait for you to stop being a jerk about this? Then I'd never get to shower." Hell might freeze over before he stopped being a jerk.

"I'm not--"

"Lex, when you were picturing our future together, did you see yourself making any changes at all? Or did you just move me into your house and expect I'd go with the flow?"

His gaze dropped to the floor and he ran a hand over his hair. "I guess I did. Cat, this is what I am. Bein' a guardian is all I know how to be."

"Yeah, well, being a witch is all I knew how to be, and when I was cast out, I got through it. I learned how to live as something else, and now I'm going to learn how to be Titania." I peeled my socks off and plopped them into the boots, and then shoved them under the table. "When you figure out what you want to do, you let me know, but in the meantime I think it's best that you leave." Standing, I placed my hands on my hips and stared him down. It was a toss-up whether I was angrier with him than I was at myself. I was such an idiot, I couldn't believe I'd fallen for him again, only to be reminded that I'd always place a distant second to his guardian responsibilities. Apparently even something as momentous as finding his soul mate wasn't worth interfering with them.

"Cat, don't be that way." He sighed.

"What way? Is it really so much to ask that just once I be worth sacrificing something for? My father wasn't willing to give up his search for power to be with me and my mother. My mother wasn't willing to give up on getting my father back and just take care of me. You weren't willing to risk your position to keep my secret safe from the council. Just once, I'd like to be enough, you know?"

"Cat."

"Just go. Please," I said, leaving no room for argument in my tone.

He left.

Chapter Fifteen

"I really think you should call him, Kitty."

It was the third time the faerie had offered that particular bit of advice in the last ten minutes. Pausing, I flexed my fingers as they hovered above my keyboard, and took a calming breath. Portia was just trying to help. Really. She had no idea that she was quickly driving me nutty bonkers.

"I. Am not. Calling. Lex."

Oblivious to the annoyance in my tone, Portia continued flipping channels. On the surface, everything appeared normal. It was amazing to me how disturbingly normal my apartment felt when I returned home. After all I'd been through, I expected something to be different. I had changed, it should too. The only obvious developments that had occurred in my absence were a few days' worth of dust, a full mailbox, and a ton of new email. Merri and Pippin wasted no time in settling back in once Portia brought them over, and the sounds of scampering feet chasing the ever-elusive catnip mouse echoed throughout the apartment. Though she didn't need to, Portia lingered after her feline delivery. I had a feeling she didn't want to go home. Tybalt's death made Castle Silverleaf a somber place. The brisk, lively cheer had been drained out of it, leaving a chill melancholy in its wake.

I wanted to go into work, but the cafe was temporarily closed. I filled the free time with surfing the Web for a new job. I couldn't keep working at the cafe without Mac being there--even if I managed to keep my job, it would never be the same. Besides, it'd just be weird. The customers who saw me as a plain, simple waitress would have no idea that I was Titania, or what that meant. I was an outcast witch who had murdered, and worse, that murder had made me a kinslayer--somehow I doubted Dorian would've struggled with that title if he'd succeeded in killing me. I couldn't stay here, expecting my old life to change to fit my new one. What would I do, hear people's grievances after the cafe closed while I waited for the pan washer to finish one load and start another?

"Maybe I should talk to Lex," Portia offered.

"Absolutely not. No one is talking to Lex."
Ever again,
I added silently.
Fool me once, shame on you...

Rain lashed the windows as the summer storm voiced its opinion, and thoughts of the last rainy night I'd spent in my apartment kept buzzing around in the back of my mind. Pulling out my smokes, I lit a cigarette and sighed as I exhaled.

"Well
someone
clearly needs to talk some sense into him--" Portia started, but was interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Frowning, the faerie zipped up from her perch on the couch and flew over to the door. Hovering in midair, she peered through the peephole out into the hallway. "Lord and Lady, what is
he
doing here?"

"Who?" Smashing out my cigarette, I got to my feet. I sniffed the air for magic as I approached the door, but only caught the scent of cinnamon wafting off Portia. "Lemme see," I ordered as I less than gently nudged her out of the way. I spotted a stranger on the other side of the door. A slender young man in a dark gray suit tapped his foot as he waited, glancing about the hallway. Short black hair stuck out in all directions in small spikes, and his eyes were hidden behind round sunglasses with smoked lenses. I sniffed the air again, expecting to catch a whiff of sorcerer, but still only smelled faerie. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place him.

"Yes?" I called out.

"Miss Baker?"

"Don't talk to him," Portia demanded in a loud stage whisper.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because he's a
shadowspawn
."

"What's a shadowspawn?" I'd never heard the term before, and it didn't sound pleasant.

"A faerie who has been outcast for doing acts of great evil."

Evil faeries, just what I needed. Well, at least he hadn't called me Morrow. I'd had more than enough of that from Cecelia lately. "What do you want?" I asked him through the door.

"May I come in?" he replied.

"Why?"

"I believe we have something important to discuss." Pulling his hands out from behind his back, he held an object up so I could see it: a black felt fedora, slightly sweat-stained around the brim.

I unlocked the door.

"Kitty!" Portia gasped in shock. I couldn't blame her, I was vaguely surprised by my stupidity as well, but I had to know why the stranger had Mac's hat.

The shadowspawn faerie breezed past me into the living room, twirling the fedora in his hands. I eyed him warily--he was certainly no cousin of mine, but I had no idea what clan he belonged to. Though he smelled strongly of faerie, leaving no doubt as to what he was, he seemed faded somehow. Less vibrant.

"Ah, I see you are a smoker. May I?"

"No," Portia answered, hands on her hips.

"Sure, go ahead," I said. "So, who are you?"

Setting the hat on my coffee table, he reached into his jacket and withdrew a black and silver cigarette case. "You may call me Faust. I am here on behalf of my employer, who wishes to extend an invitation to you to meet with him." Selecting a slender black cigarette, he placed it between his lips and the end spontaneously ignited with a tiny pop of magic.

"Who's your employer?" With a name like Faust, I was pretty sure he wasn't working for the good guys. Faust exhaled a stream of smoke that was bright green, and I blinked at it in surprise.

"Zachary Harrison. I believe you've met."

"I'm not surprised," Portia said archly. "His entire family was exiled from Faerie, no wonder they've taken up with monsters."

"Your family's history is not as pure as the driven snow as you would have others believe, Silverleaf. You should be careful who you insult."

"How dare you!" she snapped. The temperature in the living room dropped, as though I'd suddenly come into the possession of an industrial-grade air conditioner.

"Hey, cut it out, both of you. Now I remember, you were in the Underhill's great hall. You sponsored Dorian, didn't you?"

"I did, yes."

"Guess you backed the wrong horse."

"It would appear so," Faust said, smiling thinly.

"So what does Harrison want?"

"To meet with you, nothing more. He promises you safe passage to and from the meeting, and that you will not be harmed at any time."

"A vampire's word has no weight, they have no honor," Portia hissed.

Ignoring her, I eyed Faust. "Uh-huh. And why would I want to meet with him?"

"Because he is in possession of something you hold dear, and if you don't meet with him, the consequences will be...unfortunate."

Suspicious, I glanced at the hat on the table. "He has something of Mac's?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"A manner of speaking?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Come now, Miss Baker. It was my understanding that you are a clever girl." Picking up the hat, he handed it to me. The fabric was wet from the rain. Cigar smoke and the dry papery smell of librarian clung to the fedora, but there was something else as well, a sharp, coppery tang. I turned the hat over in my hands and noticed that my fingers were stained with blood. Startled, I gasped.

"But...how?" It couldn't be Mac's blood, not this fresh, after all this time. This was a trick, had to be. I handed the hat to Portia to get her opinion, and her deep blue eyes widened in surprise the moment she touched it. From her expression alone I knew--Mac was alive. Alive, and bleeding.

"They never found the body, did they?" Faust asked, and I shook my head. "There is a car waiting outside for you."

"Give me a few minutes to grab my stuff."

The faerie vanished, leaving only a cloud of green cigarette smoke in his wake.

"You are not going with him," Portia ordered.

"But Mac--"

"We can find Mac and rescue him."

"Before they can hurt him? Or kill him? What if they're holding him somewhere you can't go?"

"Well...then..."

"Then I'm going. And you can rescue me later."

Surely it was a trap of some sort, but I wasn't willing to risk it. If Mac was alive I couldn't abandon him. Rushing around my apartment, I threw on as many charms and talismans as I could manage, filled my pockets and my purse, hugged my cousin goodbye and then headed out into the night.

Of course I hadn't thought to bring an umbrella in my hurry to leave, so I wandered out into the downpour unprotected. I don't mind a good storm, and as a water sign I usually enjoy them, but I started to look like a candidate for a wet T-shirt contest in short order. With my head tilted down to keep the brunt of the drops off my glasses, I concentrated on running to the waiting car. As I soon realized, car was really an understatement, because it was in fact a white stretch limo. The driver opened the door for me and I ducked inside.

The interior was leather, the cabin was spacious, and I thought I spotted a bar off to my left. Good, I could use a strong drink. Faust popped into the seat next to me, and I noticed there was a woman sitting across from us. She was pale, bright like a ghost in the night, and hair so blonde it had to come out of a bottle hung straight down her back.

The all-white outfit made me realize who she was: Lovely Laura Barrenheart. White was her trademark--it made her stand out among the other vamps who preferred black, black, and more black in their wardrobes. I blinked at her, wondering what the hell she wanted. Maybe to complain about how I'd killed her pet, but surely my father hadn't meant that much to her. Laura was a council member--she probably couldn't take a step without tripping over one of her toadies.

My shields snapped in place around me. "Well, if it isn't the Wicked Bitch of the Southwest Side. What the fuck do you want?" I asked. Faust made a noise that sounded almost as though he'd swallowed a bug, and then started coughing. Laura's gaze darkened, which was quite a feat considering her eyes were the palest gray I'd ever seen, so much so they were almost colorless.

"Watch your language, Miss Morrow," she warned. Those pale gray eyes looked me up and down, appearing extremely disappointed by what they saw. "You do not look much like your father."

I studied her in return--she was beautiful, in a Nordic ice-princess sort of way. After getting a better look at her light lashes and eyebrows I had to grudgingly admit that her platinum blonde hair was natural, and not bleached. I don't think I've ever seen anyone naturally have hair that shade, and it made me hate her just a little bit more. What I wouldn't have given in high school for hair that color, instead of the boring brown I'd been cursed with.

"You killed my servant. By our law, that makes you indebted to me."

"Yeah? Well, you killed my mother. I say that makes us even," I countered. Laura shifted in her seat, her thin lips pressed into a firm line. "Not even going to deny that one, are you? Did the council send his body back to you, sword and all?"

Laura growled low, and Faust cleared his throat. "Perhaps it's best not to antagonize her, Miss Baker."

"I doubt she's gonna shed any tears for old Dorian. Laura's gone through more men than a botoxed Hollywood cougar on a bender."

Apparently Laura wasn't used to being mocked, or she had a very short temper, because she lunged across the seats in a blur of motion and attempted to attack me. Her well-manicured claws bounced harmlessly off my shields, and I smiled sweetly. "Gee, blondes really are that dumb."

"That's enough, from both of you." Faust tsked, sounding weary as Laura was thrown back into her seat by an invisible force.

"Sure, whatever you say," I said.

"She was guaranteed safe passage," he scolded the vampire.

"Zachary promised her that, not me. I will not be ordered around by him."

"This brings dishonor to you both, councilwoman," Faust said pointedly.

"That whelp killed my Dorian, I don't care what she thinks."

Her Dorian, huh? Nice.

Deciding I'd had enough excitement for now, I sat back in silence and watched the passing scenery through the tinted windows. The route was familiar enough despite the fact that I don't drive when I travel downtown--I don't own a car, and the train's faster anyway. Plus there's the fact that I don't go downtown very often, which is really just a crime. Chicago's got everything: museums, fine dining, great theater, sports, shopping, and so on. I just don't take the time to fit any of it into my routine, and I made a mental note to rectify that mistake should I manage to live through this meeting.

The limo carefully navigated the rainy streets, and Faust interrupted the quiet. "Well, this is where I leave you. Lady Laura, I do suggest you try to keep your temper in check. Good evening to you both."

The faerie vanished, leaving me alone with Lovely Laura. Heavy silence hung in the air until the limo finally pulled into the parking garage beneath the building. The Harrison building is one of the larger structures downtown, a brand-spanking-new high-rise office building. A gleaming, sleek structure, it was only one of the many Zachary Harrison was reported to own--it wasn't on the scale of the Sears Tower or the Hancock, but still very impressive.

The parking garage was empty, and our footsteps echoed loudly as we walked toward the shiny silver doors of an elevator. As I glanced around I noticed that the place was pristine, clean like no other parking structure I'd ever seen, and the air was surprisingly fresh. When we reached the elevator Laura stepped inside with me, and I tried to stand as far away from her as I could. With the amazing speed of modern technology the elevator whooshed up, whizzing past floor after floor and making my ears pop.

The doors opened on the very top floor--the penthouse of course. Stepping through the doors, I entered a large, open room. Sparse decoration was scattered throughout the area, a Spartan black and chrome design that communicated the modern ideal of "I'm so wealthy I can afford to waste all this space in a city this crowded." Everything around me shone with a high polish, and I felt very small and dirty as I tracked rain and mud on the black marble floor.

Zachary Harrison was seated at his desk, another boring, bland piece of furniture I wouldn't have bought for my apartment no matter how cheaply it was on sale. Maybe I was showing my bourgeois roots, but if I had enough money to buy my own island I'd want some bling in my decor. Since I'd seen Harrison before I was somewhat prepared for the experience. The man really was gorgeous--if you ignored the fact that he was a walking corpse, but the non-magical world had no knowledge of that. The media
loved
him, the paparazzi followed him around everywhere he went, he'd been voted world's sexiest bachelor or something like that by some magazine three or four times. Harrison was rich, handsome, famous, intelligent, always impeccably groomed and dressed, and he would be young and beautiful forever.