Utterly Charming (25 page)

“The disease Ealhswith claims Emma has.”

“‘This disease often causes its victim to believe others are acting against her best interests, which is a belief in conflict with reality.’” Clotho was reading aloud. “‘Often this belief is caused by delusional thoughts generated by “voices” heard by the victim advising her of facts not based in reality.’ Is this another one of those English writer tricks?”

“No,” Blackstone said. “It’s a legal trick. Mortals have a legal system that binds them just like ours binds us. Ealhswith has decided to play in that world to get custody of Emma.”

“‘Delusional thoughts,’” Lachesis read. “Is this true? Has Emma lost her mind during her long sleep?”

“Of course not,” Nora said. “But Ealhswith is claiming this so that she’ll be able to do anything she wants to Emma.”

“Such a thing is possible within your legal system?” Atropos asked.

“Within limits,” Nora said. “She can’t murder her for example.”

“But isn’t that what you’re claiming she wants to do?” Clotho asked.

Nora sighed. Nitpicky legalistic minds. She hated that. “Not in the same way. I mean, Ealhswith can’t take a knife to Emma’s throat. No mortal would be able to tell that the two of them switched bodies.”

“Good point,” said Lachesis.

“Nor would they be able to recognize a magically induced coma, which is where I think Ealhswith is going to take Emma, if she hasn’t already,” Blackstone said. “Last time I was an unwitting accomplice. This time, I will not be.”

“What do you want us to do?” Atropos asked.

“The best case is that I want you to find Emma and bring her back to Nora’s house, unharmed,” Blackstone said.

“That’s action before the fact,” Clotho said. “We can only punish a crime or provide a window into another world. You know that, Aethelstan.”

He smiled faintly. Nora wanted to put her arm around him again, to give him support. “I had to try,” he said.

“So I repeat,” Lachesis said. “What do you want us to do?”

“At least tell me where she is so that I can go get her,” Blackstone said.

Clotho was frowning, and Lachesis looked thoughtful. But Atropos was shaking her head.

“I’ve done everything required of us,” Blackstone said. “I’ve never broken our laws. I’ve worked for the betterment of those around me. I’ve even followed the prophecies as I’ve understood them. I haven’t done a thing wrong.”

“Except that first spell,” Atropos said.

“Not even that was wrong,” Blackstone said. “I was trying to save Emma’s life.”

“You could have brought her to us,” Clotho said. “We would have saved her.”

“I didn’t find out about you until after the spells,” Blackstone said.

“Ignorance is no excuse,” Lachesis said.

“It is when it makes a certain action impossible,” Blackstone said. “I did everything I could then.”

“And stole a thousand years from a girl’s life,” said Atropos.

“Not intentionally,” Blackstone said. “And it wouldn’t have been that long if you had but listened to me nine hundred years ago.”

“You cannot blame us for your error,” Clotho said.

“I’m not,” Blackstone said. “I’m taking full responsibility for my actions. But in doing so, in confronting you now, I’m taking more precious time from Emma. If Ealhswith spells her again, she’s trapped.”

“For all you know, she may already be trapped,” Lachesis said.

“Yes,” Blackstone said. “But I’ll try to prevent it until I know for certain.”

“Why do you do this for Emma?” Atropos asked.

“Because of the prophecy,” Blackstone said.

“The prophecy—?” Clotho turned to her companions.

“You know,” Nora said, unable to stand the way they were grilling Blackstone, and him without proper representation. She wasn’t sure she liked their customs at all. “The one that says she’s his true love?”

The three women laughed. Lachesis lifted her arms above her head. “We must confer,” she said, and all three of them vanished.

Jeffrey staggered a few feet forward until he reached the marble steps. Then he sat down. “Someone want to tell me what’s going on?”

Amanda sat beside him. “What an exhausting afternoon. I’ve seen it all and I still don’t believe it.”

Blackstone ran a hand through his hair and turned away from them. He walked down the grass toward a fountain. The water spouted from an overturned urn in the hands of a boy wearing a small skirt around his waist. Around the fountain were more marble benches, in a circular pattern that looked deliberate. Everything was very formal here, molded. Nora hadn’t noticed its artificiality before now.

She glanced at her mother and Jeffrey, then at Blackstone.

“Do you think we will find Emma?” Amanda asked.

“I don’t know,” Jeffrey said.

“Oh, Jeffrey. This is very confusing to me.” She rested her head on Jeffrey’s shoulder. He put his arm around her.

It looked like a perfect moment, and one Nora didn’t want to interrupt. She turned her back on them and walked to Blackstone.

He was throwing coins into the fountain. She watched as a single penny spun in the air, then splashed into the water. It came to rest against other coins, most of which she didn’t recognize.

“I’m sorry about losing Emma,” she said.

“It’s my fault,” he said. “I should have been protecting her. I know how tricky Ealhswith can be.”

“I asked you not to.”

He shook his head. “That doesn’t cut it, Nora. I know what Ealhswith’s capable of, and you don’t. Or maybe you didn’t. I suspect you do now.”

“How long do we wait for the Fates?”

“Until they make their decision,” he said. “They’re our best hope.”

The red mark hadn’t left his cheek. As Nora looked at it, she realized it was in the shape of a hand. She reached up and touched his skin lightly. “What happened to you?”

“Ruthie,” he said and smiled crookedly. “She was putting papers on your desk when I appeared. I guess I ended up too close.”

Nora grinned. Ruthie hated it when she thought men were taking liberties. “I thought you could charm her.”

“I promised you I wouldn’t.”

She laid her own hand over the red mark. It was hot to the touch. “She really walloped you.”

He shrugged. “I caught her by surprise.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing,” he said. “None of this is your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” Nora said. “If I hadn’t played legal games—”

“Who knows where we’d be right now. Emma could have run off on that first night and been vulnerable to half a dozen things I don’t want to contemplate.” He put his hand over Nora’s, then lowered them both. He ran his forefinger over her knuckles, his touch soft. “You should never apologize for doing what you think is right.”

“That’s what you were doing to the Fates. Apologizing for saving Emma’s life.”

“I harmed Emma in doing so,” he said. “I violated one of our first tenets. Do not act until you know the consequences.”

“If you had waited, wouldn’t Emma have died?”

He shook his head. “Not if I’m right. Not if Ealhswith wanted her body.”

“But you couldn’t have known that then.”

“No,” he said. “And that was the Fates’ argument early on. They felt that if Ealhswith wanted Emma’s body, she wouldn’t have done such a risky spell. But over the years, I’ve learned that Ealhswith does most things in a risky manner. And she does them after making an educated guess about the way others will react. She predicted I’d do that spell, and she predicted the results. In both areas, she was correct.”

Nora turned her hand in Blackstone’s and laced her fingers through his. “I always thought the wicked stepmother was a patriarchal myth, designed to emasculate powerful women.”

Blackstone laughed softly. “Judging my culture by the standards of yours, are you?”

She shrugged. “I thought these things were all fairy tales.”

“Fairy tales always have a basis in truth.”

“So I’m learning.”

His fingers tightened around hers. “If the wicked stepmother was a myth designed to emasculate powerful women,” he said, “how do you explain the Fates?”

“I thought they were Greek.”

“That’s different?”

“Greece always had a large roster of powerful women. Athena, Hera, even Aphrodite. All of them strong, all of them lusty, all of them smart.”

“All of them friends of mine,” Blackstone said. “And they have other qualities as well. Usually good qualities, but not always. Just like mortals.”

“How can you people incorporate all the myths and legends? Or claim to?”

“We come into our powers,” he said, “at different times. I was twenty-one over a thousand years ago. A friend of mine turned twenty-one about two centuries before that and formed the basis for the legends of Arthur. Myth happens because we don’t learn how to hide our powers, or we’re still so tied to the mortal world that we use our powers in indiscreet ways. Arthur, for example, used all of his powers to create Camelot, ignoring the prophecies, yet making a place of such greatness that you know about it today. For that, he became an old man in a normal mortal span and was sent, at the end, to Avalon where the Fates decided that he would be allowed some of his powers back as long as he never visited Camelot again.”

“So this is Avalon?” Nora asked.

Blackstone shrugged. “If you want it to be. Or maybe it’s Olympus. Or Atlantis. Or perhaps the Catholics are right, and this is Purgatory.”

“Meaning you won’t tell me,” she said.

“Meaning I don’t really know,” he said. He looked at the fountain. “Each time I come, it’s different. This is the first time the Fates have looked like their Greek counterparts.”

“They didn’t when we first arrived.”

He grinned at her. “No, they didn’t.”

“Are they really Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos?”

His eyebrows raised. “Where did you learn the name of the Fates?”

This time it was her turn to shrug. “I had mythologies of the world in school. But before that, I used to read Greek mythology books when I was a kid. I read them like I read fairy tales.”

“Those awful Grimm Brothers?”

“And Hans Christian Andersen.”

“The twerp.”

“You knew him?”

Blackstone nodded. “The Match Girl—a friend of his. He could have helped her, but no.”

“I thought he’s a Danish hero.”

“That’s because they never met him. Pompous, pretentious—”

“Aethelstan?” The voice came from behind them. The three Fates were standing on the manicured lawn, their sandals peeking out from beneath their robes. Nora was close enough to see, on the top of the blonde’s right foot, a tattoo of a spiderweb. Clotho noticed where Nora was looking and slid the foot back under her robe. “We’ve decided.”

Blackstone’s grip on Nora’s hand tightened.

“We weighed many factors in this,” Lachesis said.

“The prophecy,” Atropos said.

“The misdone spells,” Clotho said.

“Ealhswith’s history,” Lachesis said.

“And yours,” said Atropos.

“We have decided that we can tell you this,” Clotho said.

“Emma is not yet in a coma, although we suspect you are right in Ealhswith’s intent,” Lachesis said.

“And Ealhswith is where you would least expect her,” said Atropos.

“At home?” Blackstone blurted.

Clotho smiled and patted Blackstone on the cheek. “Our boy is growing up,” she said to the others.

“Careful, Aethelstan,” said Lachesis. “In a few centuries, you might even be as smart as us.”

They all laughed as they vanished, their laughter echoing long after they were gone.

Nora couldn’t help herself; she shuddered. “I don’t know if I missed that. Did they confirm your guess?”

He nodded. Then he sighed. “I’ll take you home. Then I’ll go.”

“No,” Nora said. “Emma needs a champion. She’s still not certain of you.”

“She needs all of us,” Amanda said from the steps. She stood, brushed off her legs, then held out a hand to Jeffrey. He let her pull him up.

“I don’t think you all understand what Ealhswith could do,” Blackstone said.

“She can’t kill mortals,” Nora said. “You taught me that much. That was outlawed years ago.”

“Kill—?” Amanda said.

“And if she turns us into toads, she has to turn us back.”

“Toads!?!” Jeffrey said.

“And, if I remember correctly, she also has to wipe our memories of the event, which defeats the purpose, or so she once said.”

“My God, Counselor,” Blackstone said in appreciation. “Remind me to never cross you when it comes to your memory.”

“Duly noted, Mr. Blackstone,” Nora said with a smile. Then she let the smile fade. “Can we get Emma now?”

Blackstone bowed slightly. “Your wish is my command.”

***

She had used too much magic today. Ealhswith stretched out on her unmade bed and popped a piece of dark chocolate into her mouth. She was tired, amazingly so, but more satisfied than she had been in weeks.

Maybe she would take a long bath. A long bath in scented water, with black candles burning on the side, and Black Sabbath on the stereo. It sounded like a wonderful, relaxing way to spend the afternoon.

She had a lot to do. She had to finish the new glass case by hand—she simply couldn’t order one to size, and right at the moment, she needed to reserve her magical abilities. Sometime in the next week, Blackstone would find her, and Ealhswith needed all of her strength for that battle.

He would lose, of course. He didn’t realize what was so very plain to everyone around him. He no longer cared for Emma. He was being distracted by that annoying little attorney. And that would dull his edge.

This time, he would lose Emma. Ealhswith would win. She would have Emma’s body for the next thousand years or so, and when the end came, as it inevitably would, she would move herself from her own rather magnificent body to Emma’s less-than-perfect one.

The Fates had already ruled that the disagreement between Blackstone and Ealhswith was personal business. In the next thousand years or so, Ealhswith would look him up, then conveniently let him “find” the glass coffin, with Emma’s body inside.

Emma’s body and Ealhswith’s soul. Blackstone, fool that he was, would think he was looking on his soul mate, and he would revive her.