Shadowrun - Novel - 18 - Worlds Without End.pdf

Foreword 

Shadowrun Caroline Spector - Worlds Without End 

There has always been magic. And magic has a life 

of its own. It comes and goes without our control. It 

flows through the world as it will. 

This is how the world was Awakened. 

Magical energy ran through the veins of the world 

like blood through humans. It changed her. And it 

changed her people. 

And it came to pass that events shaped by magic 

began to alter history. 

Earthquakes tore the earth apart. The Four Horsemen 

of the Apocalypse seemed to be riding across 

the world. Conquest, War, Famine, and Death raged 

unabated. The VITAS plague alone took almost a 

quarter of the world's population in the year 2010. 

Then came 2011: the Year of Chaos. 

Governments fell. Famine gripped the poor and 

stalked the wealthy. Nuclear power failed, causing 

massive radiation fallout. War peppered the world, 

toppling heads of state, creating new countries. 

And then there were the children. 

At first, they were called deformities. Then mutations. 

The superstitious called them changelings, and 

5 

Foreword 

saw the Hand of God at play. Finally, science offered 

a label: UGE. Unexplained Genetic Expression. 

Everywhere you looked the media ran stories 

about these babies, calling them elves and dwarfs. 

The age-old specter of prejudice had found new victims. 

At the end of 2011, the most dramatic event of the 

newly Awakened world occurred. The great worm, 

Ryumyo, rose from his long sleep inside Mt. Fuji. 

Thousands watched as the first dragon the technological 

world had seen took to the sky. In dragon 

fashion he ignored humans. Humanity got its first 

close-up look at a dragon when Dunkelzahn consented 

to a series of trideo interviews. The ratings 

were fantastic and launched Dunkelzahn as an international 

celebrity. 

In 2014, The Native American Nations claimed 

responsibility for the eruption of Redondo Peak, 

This cataclysmic event buried nearby Los Alamos in 

volcanic ash. In a desperate measure to assert control, 

the United States government sent federal 

agents in. to stop the NAN uprising. They were 

swept into oblivion by tornadoes resulting from the 

powerful shamanistic magic of the Great Ghost 

Dance. 

After this, the changes in the world began to 

happen at a faster and faster pace. There was the socalled 

goblinization of 2021. Overnight, people began 

to change into fantastic creatures once thought 

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to exist only in fairy tales. The stuff of legend. 

And buried deep within the Awakening was a 

mystery from the past. 

6 

Foreword 

A time so far away from present events that only 

a handful of people knew the truth. 

About how the world once was. And how it might 

become again. 

When magic was as much a part of life as breathing, 

or eating, or seeing, or feeling. And how the 

world was made full of heroes and troubadours, and 

mages, and wild things the modern world could not 

fathom. And how the very magic that flowed 

through this world also drew the greatest evil to it. 

And when that evil came for the people, one great 

race understood the futility of fighting this new 

plague upon the land. The Theran Empire promised 

a way to survive the hundreds of years this Scourge 

would last. They sent the people of the world into 

deep underground kaers where they would live magically 

sealed against the invaders until the time when 

they could come back to the surface again. 

But such generosity of vision always has its price. 

However, that is another story. 

And now we have come back again to the magic. 

And to those who would guard the world from the 

horrors of the past. 

Those who have lived through it all before. 

Prologue 

Let me tell you a story ... 

Once upon a time there was a woman. 

Sometimes, in the story, her name is Pandora. 

Sometimes it's Eve. And sometimes it's Lilith. 

There are more names for her. 

It all depends on who's telling the story. 

At any rate, at one time everything in the world 

was wonderful. Or so you're supposed to believe. 

There was enough food for everyone to eat. Enough 

water to drink. No one had to work. 

In short: Paradise. 

Except for one thing. 

The woman. 

You see, in this story she's at the root of all the 

trouble. 

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Either she can't help opening the box. Or talking 

to the snake. Or she's just too uppity for her own 

good. 

And she starts poking around in things. Things 

We Were Not Meant to Know. And as a result, everything 

goes to hell in a handbasket. 

Prologue 

Or so the person telling the tale would have you 

believe. 

Of course, since everything in the world isn't total 

drek, there has to be some sort of mitigating factor. 

Like we're banished from the garden. But, if we 

work and pray hard enough, we might be let back in. 

Or we're told that the woman was banished to the 

edge of time and there she mated with demons. And 

her offspring come to us in our dreams and torment 

us. 

Seduce us. 

Lead us astray. 

And then, in some versions of the tale, at the bottom 

of the box is Hope. Which, we're told, is the 

only way to survive all the other horrors which have 

already escaped from the box. It is the only thing we 

have to hold on to. 

Or so we're told. 

But that's the way it is with stories. 

You just don't know who you can trust. 

PART I 

"Oh fuck, not another elf!" 

—Hugo Dyson, during the reading 

of a manuscript by J.R.R. Tolkien 

10 

Across the frozen planes of time I've come. 

Through fires brighter than a thousand suns. 

Through darkness. Through the Void. Over the range 

of the universe I've come. 

I've come for you, Aina. 

To take you again into my sweet embrace and 

show you wonders from the darkness of your soul. 

Then I'll make you yearn for death while I rip open 

your mind and lay waste to everything you hold 

dear. 

But all that will come later. For we have centuries, 

no, millennia to play our games. Come to me 

now and let me show you... let me show everything 

I have to offer. 

1 

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Last night I dreamt again of Ysrthgrathe. 

And when I awoke, the stench of death and corruption 

still lingered in the air. 

Through my bedroom window moonlight poured 

cold and blue. I rubbed my eyes, trying to convince 

myself that it had only been a dream. That the demons 

lurking in the shadowed comers were in my 

imagination. A conjuring of my mind only. 

I shoved the covers away, letting the night air 

13 

Caroline Specter 

send gooseflesh across my arms and down my legs. 

Here by the sea on the northern coast of Scotland the 

weather stays chill and damp all year long. It had 

never bothered me before. But tonight, I felt the cold 

straight to my bones. All the better to keep me 

awake, I thought. 

My feet shrank as they touched the cold bare 

floor. Grabbing my thick robe, I wrapped it tightly 

about me. It was made of real, heavy, woven cashmere 

fabric, not that horrid synth stuff they sell 

nowadays. 

I went downstairs and made myself some tea. It 

warmed my body, but I still felt chilled. I wanted 

to read, but I hated using the foul contraption 

Caimbeui had given me. The vidscreen gave me a 

headache and I could never bring myself to have 

cyberware implanted. Bodmod, cyberjunk, ticklewires—whatever 

they're calling them this week. 

Hadn't I done enough of that sort of thing to myself 

in the past? 

I shuddered as I thought about Ysrthgrathe. 

Too soon, I thought. It's too soon. 

But I knew it wasn't. The very thing I'd sought to 

prevent seemed to be happening. That is, if dreams 

could be trusted. 

I dumped the tea into the sink and went and pulled 

a bottle of scotch from the pantry and splashed a 

hefty portion into a tumbler. It burned going down 

and brought tears to my eyes. I suppose the elves in 

Tir na n6g would be offended at my traitorous 

choice of beverage, but frag them. I hadn't been on 

speaking terms with either Tir for quite some time. 

14 

WORLDS WITHOUT END 

But what to do about the dreams? 

Perhaps the shamans in NAN would be willing to 

listen. But then I remembered the dustup we'd had 

before the Great Ghost Dance. They hadn't been too 

happy to hear my predictions about the magical fallout 

from all the blood they'd planned to spill. 

Idiots. If only they'd listened. I suspected then 

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that this would be the result. Like bees to honey, it 

would draw the creatures again. And we'd had no 

time to plan. To prepare. This time the monsters 

from the past would lay waste to the whole world. 

15 

Are you waiting/or me? 

Have you been waiting for me? 

Does your flesh crave my caress? 

Do you remember? Remember the centuries of 

pain and humiliation? 

Do you know how I have missed you? 

1 

The sound of his voice echoed inside me. 

I went to the thermostat and pushed it up. To hell 

with the regs about fuel waste, I thought. A century 

ago, Caimbeui had given me a Renoir. I liked to 

look at it when I felt like this. Afraid and lonely in 

the dark hours before dawn when the past spreads 

before me like a black spill of ink. 

I flicked my hand and the illusionary wall I'd created 

long ago vanished. It was a simple enough 

spell, though in the past few centuries there'd been 

little enough magic to go around. 

That was changing. 

The last few years—a human life span—just a 

drop to me—had seen such a burst of magical energy 

and growth. The Awakening, they called it on 

their ugly little trids. Oh, I know Dunkelzahn found 

this brave new world far too fascinating, but he'd 

16 


been dreaming for more than five thousand years. 

What would he know of it? He hadn't seen what the 

world had become. 

I stepped into my room. The walls were windowless 

and covered in heavy oak paneling. Artwork 

and bookcases covered every available space, 

crammed full of everything I found precious. Centered 

on the north wall was the Renoir. 

It was of a young woman and a little girl sitting 

on a balcony. The woman was wearing a brilliant red 

hat and she had a face of such sweetness that just 

looking at her almost hurt. I remembered when he'd 

painted it. A beautiful copy used to hang in the Chicago 

Art Institute, but I think it might have been destroyed 

during the riots in 2011. 

So much beauty was lost then. 

Here in my secret room I kept the relics of so 

many dead worlds. Of course dead worlds are all 

around us. They're just so much a part of our lives 

that we stop thinking about it. In London, fivehundred-year-old 

buildings snuggle next to glass 

columns built yesterday. Asphalt poured in nineteen- 

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fifty is worn down by the wheels of a thousand rigs 

never dreamed of until five years ago. And the 

sweetmeats dance in nightclubs with rags on their 

backs sewn in sweatshops during the eighties. But 

that was just a momentary madness. A fad. A passing 

whimsy of fashion. 

The things I'd distract myself with at times like 

that. 

And here too were memories from a place and 

time out of mind. A place as unreal to this world as 

17 

Caroline Spector 

any trideo fantasy. What possessed me to recreate 

what I could remember? That time was done. Over. 

Dust. 

Right. 

Then why were there pictures painted by artists 

far greater than I, depicting places described by me? 

Why had I done it? Why had I asked Francisco 

Lucientes to recreate those nightmare visions? What 

madness had I unlocked from his mind? For surely 

he saw them—saw the demons. 

His painting leaned against the wall, face down. I 

reached out and turned it around. Curators from every 

museum of the world would kill to have this lost 

treasure. Could they have understood it came not 

from Goya's demented vision, but from mine? 

It showed a forest of such expanse that it fled 

from the viewer's sight back into a ghostly oblivion. 

Standing in the foreground were two people: a male 

and a female. She was human, slight of build with a 

curious face. He was an elf, tall and lithe with dark 

hair and a small goatee. Growing from his body 

were thorns. 

The skin was puckered where the thorns protruded 

from his flesh. They ran across his face and showed 

as stark points across the back of his hands. A thousand 

slashes rent his tunic, letting the thorns escape. 

I reached out and almost touched their faces with 

my fingertips. 

Tears were streaming down my cheeks as hot and 

warm on my face as the blood that once fed that 

great forest. Blood poured from the wounds of my 

people. 

18 


But that wasn't the worst of what had been in that 

time. 

My own complicity. Could such acts of evil ever 

be forgiven? Or forgotten? 

I tried to push these dark thoughts away. But the 

dream wouldn't let me go. Wouldn't let me forget. 

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I'd let myself become distracted by worldly matters. 

I'd forgotten why I was here. 

I swallowed the last of the scotch. A pleasant heat 

had settled into my limbs. Perhaps now I would be 

able to sleep. With a simple gesture the illusionary 

wall was once more in place. I went upstairs. After 

closing the drapes, I settled under the quilts and 

comforters. But I couldn't bring myself to turn off 

the light. A childish notion, but it gave me some 

comfort. 

And small comfort was all I would have for a long 

time to come. 

19 

A vast forest stretches out before her. Green and 

lush. Beautiful and deadly. And there are secrets. 

Terrible secrets. She steps forward and feels that she 

is sinking into something. Looking down, she sees 

her foot being swallowed by a pool of blood. 

3 

Dreams, I thought, can't hurt you. 

The day was dreary and overcast. They usually 

were here. It was well past noon before I managed to 

pull myself from bed. Despite the scotch and leaving 

the light on, I didn't manage to sleep until after the 

sun rose. 

Normally, I would have downloaded the morning 

Times and printed it out while I made tea. But I felt 

restless and penned-in by the house. I threw on 

jeans, boots, and heavy sweater, then grabbed my 

leather jacket as I went outside. It was late October 

and already the wind was blowing colder from the 

north. 

It took me a few minutes to climb down to the 

beach. During the night it had rained and the path 

was muddy. I slipped a little as I ran down it. The 

sharp tang of the air cleared my mind. 

Dreams, only dreams. 

20 


But I suspected they weren't. I'd had premonitions 

like this before. Before the Great Ghost Dance 

in 1888. And again before the one in 2014. Before 

the first VITAS plague. Before the start of 

goblinization in 2021. Each time I'd seen what was 

to come and I couldn't stop it. 

Oh I'd tried, but the others weren't willing to listen. 

But they rarely thought about the consequences 

of anything that was happening. It has been that way 

for far too long. They've forgotten. Or didn't believe 

the danger was so close at hand. 

I was so engrossed with my morbid thoughts that 

by the time I looked up, I'd gone onto my neighbor's 

property. He was a surly bastard and hated the 

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fact that he had an elf for a neighbor. What was it he 

called me? Ah yes, a pointy-eared, pencil-necked, 

daisy-eating nigger. The last I assumed had to do 

with my skin color. It took every ounce of selfrestraint 

I had not to slowly pull his tongue out his 

hoop the hard way. 

But the Brits had an annoying habit of frowning 

upon murder. Especially when it involved a human 

and any sort of "meta" being. However, there were 

plenty of elves among the nobility in the UK, and I 

actually had good relationships with them. I hated 

to bum karma with them on someone who would be 

more annoyed by my continuing presence. 

I turned and made my way back to the house. The 

fog had burned off finally and it was looking to be 

a rare sunny day. My security system let me back in 

with a cheery, "Good morning. It's October 20, 

2056. The temperature is 9 Celsius outside ..." It 

21 


rambled on and on, and once again I reminded myself 

to have the thing removed. But I always forgot. 

So tomorrow it would be the same, "Good morning. 

It's October 21, 2056. The temperature is ... blah 

blah blah." 

As I pulled off my boots in the mud room, I found 

myself whistling an old tune. Well, maybe not whistling, 

more a tuneless wheeze. 

Look on the bright side of life . .. dee, dah, dee 

dee deedilty dah. 

I couldn't remember any more of the words. That 

used to drive Caimbeui crazy when we were together. 

My inability to remember more than a few 

snatches of lyrics from any song. Sometimes I even 

got the words wrong. What was that called? Oh, yes, 

mondegreens. 

The kitchen was warm and I set the kettle on to 

boil on the flat heating element. I went upstairs and 

started the water for a bath. Stripping out of my 

clothes, I grabbed my robe and wrapped it around 

me. The kettle had begun to whistle and I went 

downstairs to fix tea. 

In a few moments I had a tray all set to take upstairs. 

Sheer decadence to dispel the night fears. Tea 

and scones while taking a hot bath. Maybe later I'd 

read—from a real book with pages. 

I'd just settled into the tub when the telecom 

beeped. Happens every time. As the machine picked 

up, I heard Caimbeul's voice. 

"Aina, I know you're there," he said. 

I gave a universal gesture for contempt and went 

back to drinking my tea. I hadn't heard word one 

22 


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from him in eight months. Frag him if he thought I 

was going to get out of a nice warm bath. 

"Look," he said. "I'm en route to the UK. I 

should be landing in about an hour. Things have 

been happening. Things you need to know about. I 

have it all under control now, but we need to talk. 

I'll be up to Arran in about four hours." 

I closed my eyes. The uneasiness that I'd almost 

dispelled was back. For Caimbeui to come here out 

of the blue meant something was up. Something big. 

The dreams came back to me. I shivered. The water 

had gone cold and I suddenly didn't like lying there 

naked and vulnerable. 

Quickly, I finished washing my hair and got out of 

the tub. As I dressed, I tried not to dwell on 

Caimbeul's unexpected visit. Whatever the reason 

for it, I would know soon enough. 

And I doubted the news would be good. 

23 

It is dark. 

A blackness so thick and heavy it feels like a 

weight against her eyes. It is suffocating, this darkness. 

It feels as though she is being swallowed up by 

it. Being turned into it ... 

4 

Caimbeui was late. 

Though I wasn't surprised, I was annoyed. It 

wasn't as though I were looking forward to seeing 

him, but if you drop in on someone with "important" 

news, you'd bloody well better be on time. 

I'd made tea with all the things Caimbeui liked. 

Scones, of course, with lemon curd. Those ridiculous 

little sandwiches with the crusts cut off, slices 

of cake, tarts. He had a sweet tooth. But now the 

sandwiches had gone hard and the cake was stale. 

I'd switched from tea to sherry, then to scotch. 

And still no Caimbeui. 

Finally, six hours after he'd said he'd arrive, I 

heard the crunch of tires across my gravel. 

I waited until I saw him emerge alone from the 

car before opening the door. Even though I had security 

sensors, you can't be too cautious. 

"Prompt as usual, I see," I said. 

24 


"Ah, Aina, still charming as ever," he replied. 

"No 'How are you? Why are you late?' You wound 

me." 

I snorted. 

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"Please, spare me the usual dancing," I said. "It's 

cold out here. Come inside." 

I turned and went into the house. Behind me I 

could hear him getting his bag and shutting the 

doors to the car. 

"Lock the door and switch the system back on," I 

called over my shoulder. 

He muttered something under his breath, but 

oddly enough he did as I asked. I went into the great 

room where I'd started a fire earlier that evening. 

Sometime between the sherry and the scotch. 

"Did you leave that woman at home?" I asked. 

"Yes," he said as he shrugged off his coat and 

tossed it on the couch. He flopped down into one of 

the wing chairs in front of the fire. I handed him a 

snifter of brandy and poured myself another scotch. 

"I'm surprised. I'd've thought you'd bring her 

along to iron your shirts. Or something." 

"Or something?" he asked. Coy, that one. 

"Whatever it is you do with girls young enough to 

be your great-great-great-great-great-great-greatgreat-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-greatgreat-great—" 

He held up his hands. "I get the picture." 

"Oh, please, I don't want to hear about your 

peculiarities in that area." 

"Do you care?" he asked. "What goes on between 

us is none of your business." 

25 


I turned away from him, stung by his remarks. Of 

course his life wasn't my concern. It hadn't been for 

centuries. But old habits die hard. 

The silence stretched out between us. Once I enjoyed 

them. But now it felt awkward and tense. I 

longed for things to be as they once had, but it was 

far too late for that. As usual. 

"I had a terrible time getting through UK customs," 

he said at last. 

"Were you carrying anything?" I asked as I turned 

and walked toward him. He gestured for me to sit 

across from him as though this were his house and 

not mine. 

"No." 

"Made any enemies in the UK lately?" 

He smiled then. I was glad he wasn't wearing his 

makeup. That awful mask he'd adopted out of some 

perverse sense of humor. Wicked Caimbeul. 

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We chatted then about meaningless things. Things 

to distract us from the free-floating tensions of a 

failed romance and too many years of history. 

The fire had begun to die down and we were both 

a little muzzy. 

"So," I said. But it came out more like "show." 

"Why all the mystery about your visit?" 

Part of me, foolishly, hoped that his surprise had 

to do with the sudden realization that he'd been momentarily 

insane all those years ago when he'd left 

me. 

"I beat them," he said, his voice dropping into a 

slightly drunken, conspiratorial tone. "You've been 

26 


saying that NAN would bring them back with all 

that blood magic. And you were right, Aina." 

I felt a cold finger touch my heart. Suddenly the 

alcohol warmth fled and I was wide-awake sober. 

"What are you saying?" I tried to keep my voice 

from shaking, but I failed. He didn't notice, though. 

"They tried to get back, but I stopped them," he 

said. "Ah, well, I did have some help. A group of 

shadowrunners I enlisted. We went and played our 

little games on the metaplanes. God, it was fantastic. 

I haven't felt so alive since—I don't know when. 

Can you imagine it? Just my wits against them. 

"Oh, there was some business with them recently 

in Maui, but that was easy enough to handle." 

He gave a pleased laugh. Full and rich. I hadn't 

heard that tone in his voice in so long I'd almost forgotten 

he could sound that way. Had it been anything 

else to bring this joy about I would have been 

delighted, but all I wanted to do was shake him. 

Hard. Laughing and enjoying this ... this catastrophe. 

It was just like him to think he'd finished them 

off. What hubris. What ego. 

"... And then I told them the story about 

Thayla," he was saying. "And I sent them on a quest 

to find her voice." 

"Did it work?" 

"Of course it did," he said, indignantly. "What do 

you take me for? A dilettante? I know we've had our 

disagreements, but even you can see what a feat this 

is. 

"What I see is your ego is out of bounds again. In 

27 


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your endless fascination with being involved in the 

machinations behind things, you've missed the 

point. As usual." 

"You're jealous," he said. 

"What?" 

"You're jealous." 

"Of what?" I was baffled at this sudden turn in 

the conversation. 

"Of me. Of my power. You couldn't stand it when 

I surpassed your abilities." 

"Don't be asinine." 

"Oh, do you deny it?" he asked. He had a competitive, 

smirky expression on his face that I wanted to 

slap off. 

"I won't even dignify that with an answer. The 

things which you pursue, Caimbeui, are vainglorious 

and, ultimately, irrelevant." 

"That's something else you do," he said. "You always 

call me Caimbeui. I haven't been called by that 

name in three hundred years." 

"Very well. Harlequin," I said. "But this is all beside 

the point. The point is you think the Horrors 

have returned and that you have beaten them singlehandedly, 

don't you? Or at least once. I have no idea 

what actually happened in Maui because you always 

leave things out when it's not all about you." 

He gave me an annoyed look. 

"Very well, Aina," he said sullenly. "There was a 

group of kahunas using blood magic on Haleakala. 

They managed to open a portal—some of the Enemy 

even managed to get through. But they were stopped 

in time. They were sent back into the void. 

28 


"See, nothing to worry about." 

"Let's see. First, you encounter them on the 

metaplanes. You manage to 'defeat' them there. 

Next, some of them manage to breach this plane. 

And you think they've been dealt with? 

"Well, I've been having dreams lately and I think 

you're wrong. I think you failed." 

He laughed. 

"Aina has a dream and we're all supposed to 

tremble in our boots. Is that it?" 

"I had forgotten this charming side to your personality, 

Caimbeui. I've been right before." 

"And you've been wrong." 

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"Not often." 


He didn't have an answer for that. 

"I thought you would be thrilled at this news," he 

said at last. "You're the only one who still understands 

what it was like. Back then. During the 

Scourge." 

I shrugged. "There's always Alachia," I said. 

"And Ehran. Oh, but I forgot about your tiff with 

him. Surely they remember." 

"Alachia sees it differently than we do. She always 

has. And Ehran isn't worth a pimple on a 

troll's butt. As for the others—" 

"Don't hold back, Caimbeui, how do you really 

feel?" 

After giving me a nasty look, he went and refilled 

his glass. 

"Bring me some water," I said. 

In a moment, he placed a tumbler in my hand and 

settled himself opposite me again. Another long si- 

29 


lence played out between us. The water was cool 

and washed the strong taste of the whiskey out of 

my mouth. 

"Tell me what happened," I said at last. "The first 

time." 

He didn't answer me for a moment. Then he 

spoke. 

"They were constructing a bridge, of sorts, using 

the energy spike from the Ghost Dance as a locator. 

They are as foul as I remembered, Aina. No, perhaps 

worse, for it has been so long since I'd seen them 

that they'd begun to blur in my memory. 

"I had to test the runners to be sure they had what 

it took to stand against the Enemy. For the most part 

they succeeded. One fell during the trials, but they 

accomplished what I set them to do. They retrieved 

the Voice, but didn't make it back to the bridge before 

a man named Darke captured me. The bastard 

was working with the Enemy and had been following 

me across the metaplanes the whole time. And 

I'd thought I was tracking him. 

"He was performing blood magic to corrupt the 

site. How many children were sacrificed I'll never 

know. But Thayla sang and the enemy fell back, and 

now we're safe." 

I almost choked on my water. 

"Wait a minute," I said. "That all ties up a little 

too neatly. Thayla may be able to keep them at bay, 

but who will protect her from people like Darke?" 

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"Oh, some of the runners stayed with her," he said 

casually. 

"But you didn't volunteer for that duty," I said. 

30 


"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "I'm far too valuable 

to be tied to one spot like that. Besides, as long 

as she's there, they can't get through." 

"Not there, at any rate," I said. "And you're sure 

the creatures were driven back in Maui?" 

"Of course," he said. 

And how I wanted to believe him. 

I stared into the fire. Long ago, according to our 

legends, Thayla's voice had driven the Horrors off. 

She had sacrificed herself for her people, like any 

great monarch would. Perhaps Caimbeui was right. 

Maybe he had accomplished it. Maybe he had driven 

them back. For now. 

I relaxed a little. Maybe now there would be time 

to plan. To prepare. To warn those who needed to 

know. 

The telecom beeped, startling me out of my 

thoughts. 

"Who could be calling at this hour?" I wondered 

aloud. 

"It might be for me," he said. "I left this number." 

Oh, splendid, I thought. Just what I need, 

Caimbeul's little friends with my restricted number. 

"Hello," I said into the old-fashioned videoless receiver 

I'd had installed in this room. 

There was a long pause, then a loud burst of 

static. I jerked back, dropping the receiver onto the 

floor. 

"Aina," I heard. The sound filled the room. An 

impossibility. And, oh sweet mother, I knew that 

voice. 

31 


"Aina," it said. "I have come back. I have come 

for you." 

Then the line went dead. 

"What was that?" Caimbeui demanded. 

The room was cold. Colder than the dead of winter. 

Colder than the grave. For I knew from long experience 

that there were things worse than death. 

"That," I said, my voice shaking, "was the past 

Página 14


come back to haunt us. Harlequin. You didn't stop 

them from coming through on Maui, my dear. One 

of them is here. Now. And he's coming for me." 

32 

She is standing on a cliff overlooking the sea. The 

gulls dive for fish, crying with their broken voices. 

Below on the beach, a boy and girl play. They chase 

each other, leaving footprints in the sand that are 

washed away by the incoming tide. 

The children's high-pitched voices float up to her, 

but she can't make out what they're saying. Then, as 

she watches, the sea turns red and bleeds onto the 

beach. 

5 

"Don't be ridiculous," Caimbeui said. 

"Are you deaf?" I asked. "You were here. You 

heard it." 

"A prank, perhaps," he said. 

"That was no prank and you know it," I said. "I 

know 'that voice." 

I turned away, running my hands over my arms to 

warm them. It had been so long. A time out of mind. 

Even so, I would never forget that sound. The sound 

of Ysrthgrathe's voice. 

Like chalk on a blackboard. Like the whisper of a 

child. Like breaking glass. Like the dear departed. 

Whatever would be most effective. 

A fine, cold sweat broke out on my back. No, I 

33 


thought, I'll not give way to that so fast. I clamped 

down on the panic. He'd be expecting that. No, I'd 

have to be careful and deliberate. 

"It's only one," Caimbeui said. "We can deal with 

one." 

"It's not just one," I said angrily. "Don't you remember 

anything I told you then about him? I seem 

to recall that we did spend some time talking all 

those years ago. Or is your memory as convenient as 

it ever was?" 

"I thought we agreed not to discuss that time," he 

said. "But you keep bringing it up." 

"I'm not discussing that time. I'm asking you if 

you remember what I told you then about Ysrthgrathe." 

"That's a roundabout way of doing it." 

"Will you shut up and listen? Frag it, you are so 

oblivious to everything but yourself. Didn't you hear 

a word I said then? Oh, I give up." 

Página 15


I spun about and strode from the room. I had to 

get to my grimoire. There were preparations to be 

made. 

When the last of my defenses was in place, I began 

to relax a little. It concerned me that I might be 

making even more of a target of myself. Strong 

magic stuck out like a sore thumb these days. But it 

didn't really matter, he'd already found me. 

Caimbeui knocked on the door to my study. 

"Go away," I said. 

"Don't be difficult, Aina," he said. "Let me in." 

34 


"No, no, dear Harlequin," I replied. "I don't wish 

to trouble you." 

I heard him sigh. Loudly and dramatically so I 

would hear. 

"Let me in," he said. 

I walked over to the door and opened it. 

"Oh, it's the great Harlequin come to pay a visit 

to the poor unenlightened masses. Oh, please show 

us your bountiful insight. We are honored by your 

presence. May we kiss your hem?" 

"I was a bit ... difficult," he began. 

"No, you were an ass," I said. 

"Very well, an ass. You always did get sarcastic 

when you were upset." 

"How insightful of you," I said. "But you've got 

it a little wrong. I'm not upset. I'm scared. And if 

you had a bit of sense, you'd be frightened too." 

He began to circle my study slowly, gently touching 

the books, totems, scrolls, and other bits of arcana 

I'd carefully catalogued. Some was only 

theory, some was practical. I knew he had an impressive 

accumulation of his own, but I also knew 

that I had been at this longer. 

"What's this?" he asked, pulling a thick tome 

from a shelf. 

"That," I said as I walked over and plucked it 

from his hand arid stuck it back on its shelf, "is none 

of your concern. I'm certain you have five or six just 

like it at home." 

An annoyed and interested expression crossed his 

face. 

"I don't understand why you're so worried," he 

35 


Página 16


said. "You've dealt with him in the past. As I recall, 

Vistrosh told me the most amazing story about how 

you vanquished him." 

Rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands, I 

sighed. 

"Did he tell what really happened?" I asked. "Or 

was it turned into some of kind of ridiculous tale? 

Let me see if I can recount his version: 'And then 

Aina threw her arms wide to the skies and caused a 

blast of heavenly fire to consume the monster. The 

creature gave one last wail of angry despair and vanished 

into the void.' " 

Caimbeui dropped into my heavy leather wingback 

chair and put his feet up on my desk. 

"Yes," he said. "It was something like that." 

"Well, you know as well as I that that's not 

exactly how these things happen. Oh, certainly I 

managed to overcome Ysrthgrathe, but it wasn't the 

simple matter Vistrosh would have had you believe. 

It almost killed me and I sacrificed more than you 

can possibly imagine." 

"Like your grimoire?" he asked. 

"Yes," I replied. "I unmade myself. You remember 

what I'd done. All those scars. The years and 

years of blood magic. Everything. I gave it all up to 

send him back. To imprison him. And now he's returned. 

"Then I had so much power. Look at me now. 

What are you doing?" 

He had picked up my grimoire and was leafing 

through it, making interested noises every few 

36 


pages. I grabbed it from his hands, shocked at such 

a breach of etiquette. 

"And I don't expect you to be any help," I said. 

"You're too damn selfish." 

"The Enemy was stopped or we'd be dealing with 

more than one of them now. You're letting something 

that happened millennia ago affect you now." 

"Don't tell me the past has no hold over you, 

Caimbeui. We both know what a lie that is." 

"This is precisely the reason I left you," he 

snapped. "You pick and pick and pick." 

"That's right," I said. "I'm no Sally, or Susan, or 

whatever-her-name-is-this-decade who fawns over 

you like you were some sort of demi-god. Doesn't 

fragging a sycophant lose its appeal after a while?" 

He pushed himself up from the table in an angry 

rush. 

Página 17


"This bickering isn't getting us anywhere," he 

said. "What are you planning to do?" 

Hugging my grimoire close to my body, I walked 

to the window and pulled back the drapes. It had begun 

to rain, and every so often the craggy land was 

lit by lightning. Bare country, wild and untamed. 

"I've put up some protections, but I'm not sure 

how effective they'll be. I wish .. . Well, I might as 

well wish for the sun to rise in the west. What's that 

old adage? 'If wishes were horses, beggars would 

ride.' " 

Caimbeui came up behind me. I could see him reflected 

in the window. A flash of lightning; the desolate 

land outside. The darkness; Caimbeul's image 

in the glass. 

37 


"I think you should tell the others," he said. 

"Why don't you tell them? Your relations with 

them have always been better than mine." 

"Because, Aina, I'm not convinced. You are. You 

will be more effective. Tell them." 

"Tell them what?" I asked. "That I've had dreams 

and there has been one very strange telecom call?" 

"Don't dodge it," he replied. "They'll have to listen 

to you. The ones who matter will know what it 

means." 

I dropped the curtains and skirted around him. He 

was close enough that I could feel the warmth of his 

body. 

"Why do you want me to do this?" I asked. 

"What have you got up your sleeve?" 

He shrugged. 

"I suppose your reaction has something to do with 

it," he said. "In all the time I've known you, I've 

never seen anything unnerve you so much as that 

call. Your hands are shaking even now. And when 

you heard that voice I thought you might faint. And, 

Aina, you're not the fainting type." 

I smiled. I couldn't help it. He could still do that 

to me. Even in the worst moments, he had a knack 

for pulling it out of me. 

"You're forgetting about Dunkelzahn and that ancient 

business," I said. "I doubt they're likely to 

have forgiven me for that." 

"Probably not," he replied. "But you must try." 

"And where do you suggest I try first?" I asked. 

"Tir na n6g? Let's see ... I have such close relationships 

with the Elders there. Alachia in particular. 

Página 18

38 



Yes, we've become the best of friends since that 

nasty business with the dragons. Oh, I'm sure she'll 

help my cause. 

"And then there's Tir Tairngire. My relationship 

with Aithne is particularly strong. After Hebhel and 

Lily, I doubt he would piss on me were I on fire. Not 

that I blame him." 

"That was a long time ago," he said. "There are 

more pressing issues than things and people dead 

and gone." 

I made a slow circuit of my study. So many years 

of keeping track of the wisdom. Anticipating this 

time. Now that it was here, I was reluctant to act. 

No, afraid to act. 

"Once, a long time ago, someone said to me that 

memory is all we have. Even as we speak, there is a 

slight lapse in time between what we hear and what 

we understand. All our experience is a kind of lag. 

"Everything is memory, Caimbeul. Nothing has 

any meaning without it. 'He who cannot remember 

the past is condemned to repeat it.' See, even a human 

philosopher understood it. And he blinked out 

in a heartbeat. 

"Don't kid yourself, Caimbeul. The past is very 

much with us." 

I closed my eyes and let the past wash over me 

like the sea rushing over the shore. 

39 

Three birds are sitting on a branch. They are 

about to soar into the blue sky when an arrow 

pierces the hearts of two of them. 

The third bird flies away, frightened and lonely. 

She knows the hunter is after her. Will always be after 

her. 

6 

We have always been a meddlesome race of beings, 

we Elders. 

I suppose it comes from a long time of being privileged. 

Few have known of us. And none have been 

able to stop us from doing what we wanted. Oh, 

well, there was that business with the great worms, 

but even they must sleep eventually. 

What was that amusing little saying from the 

comix? "Who Watches the Watchmen?" I used to 

see it scrawled across the bottoms of bridges and on 

the sides of buildings during the late nineteen- 

nineties. 

So, though we'd been given a thrashing, while the 

Página 19


cat's away (or the monstrous serpents), the mice will 

play. And so we did. 

Myself, I have always preferred a low profile. 

None of the flash that has marked the passage of my 

40 


fellows. The tales that have floated about me were 

easily written off as fables. That wasn't by accident, 

for I have believed for a long time that our presence 

is more a danger than a boon. 

Perhaps had I been more vigilant, certain events 

of the past wouldn't have come to pass. 

I had been traveling to England. Why, I can't remember 

now. Although I believe it had something to 

do with that collection of stones in Wiltshire. There 

were rumors of power there. Tremendous magical 

power. It was whispered in the harems and in council 

rooms. In market places and among the nomads. 

There were always places of power and this was one 

of them. 

Stupidity. 

That's how I came to be there. Had I bit of sense 

in my head I would have left them all to die. Hacking 

their lungs out, puking up what they'd barely 

managed to down a moment before. 

Ignorant, superstitious peasants. 

I knew there was a reason I'd stayed in the east 

for so long. In the east I wasn't looked upon as a 

black devil. The color of my skin was hardly commented 

upon. 

But here among these backwards Englishmen with 

their pasty skin and bad teeth I was something to be 

feared, hated, and possibly killed. And the place 

they'd put me in might well do that. 

It was called the Tower, but, of course, it wasn't. 

More like several castles and towers collected together. 

Not that I'd had much of a chance to see any 

of it. I'd been brought here in the middle of the 

41 


night and hadn't seen much of the light of day since. 

Sometimes I wondered if anyone even remembered 

I was there. 

Once a day a jailer slid a plate of bread and porridge 

through the grate. I could hear him muttering 

catechisms under his breath. It would do him little 

good and likely lose him his head, given the political 

mood. But don't we all fall back upon the icons 

from our youth? The stories we recite to keep the 

monsters at bay. 

And that was how I knew I must appear. Oh, I'd 

lost the pointed ears, thank goodness. The more obvious 

signs of my elven condition were muted now. 

Página 20


Magic was at a low ebb, though for some reason belief 

in it had never been higher. There were more 

charlatans and mountebanks claiming to turn lead 

into gold than you could swing a dead cat at. And 

they did a great bit of that, too. To drive out the demons. 

Demons like me with my black skin and my white 

hair. My hair I could dye. Luckily, my eyes had 

changed to a brownish-gray color; otherwise I'd 

probably already be dead. What would they make of 

Vistrosh and his ceathral skin and pink eyes? I wondered. 

But here I was locked up tighter than a miser's 

hoard. 

And how had I come to be here? My own weaknesses, 

as usual. 

"Help us," I'd heard. 

I looked down and saw a young child, a girl, 

maybe eight. She wore a ragged tunic and her feet 

42 


were bare and dirty. What desperation drove her to 

ask for help from any passing stranger? Much less 

one who looked like me. 

"They're sick," she said. 

"Who is sick?" I asked. 

"Everyone," she replied. "Everyone except me." 

But she didn't look well herself. Her eyes were 

bright and glassy and as I drew closer, I could feel 

the heat of fever radiating off her. 

"Please," she said. Her hands reached out and I 

thought she might actually touch me, but she pulled 

away. 

"What makes you think I could do any good?" I 

asked. 

"Someone has to," she replied. "Or I'll be all 

alone. They'll ... die." 

I didn't want to help them. For as far back as I 

could remember I'd been trying to keep out of these 

things. To let Fate take her own course. It wasn't for 

me to decide. There were other matters that needed 

my attention. But as I looked into that pale feverish 

face another child came to my mind, and I found 

myself being led into the rude thatched hut. 

The air was thick with the odor of a low-burning 

peat fire. There was a hole cut in the roof to let the 

smoke escape, but that only helped a little. Pallets 

lined the edge of the room. On them lay several people, 

all of whom were in various stages of the same 

sickness. 

The grippe. 

Página 21


Why these people were so ill from it I didn't 

know. It was a common enough problem—not as 

43 


frightening as the plague or cholera, which could 

pass through a town and leave it devastated hi a matter 

of days or weeks. 

At my feet lay an elderly woman. I knelt down 

beside her and took her wrist in my hand. Under my 

fingers her pulse felt erratic. I was closer to the 

power here; the pull of it too tempting to resist. As 

my eyes closed I began to see the pattern of her life. 

Thin and threadbare. Bleak colors woven together 

with an odd shock of bright blue. 

It was so difficult to hold on to what I was seeing. 

The images were blurred and hazy, slipping away 

from me if I hesitated for a moment. But, healing 

her would be simple enough, I saw suddenly. It had 

been so long since I'd taken the risk. Since I'd 

wanted to. 

There was a faint sound. It broke my concentration 

and I turned toward it. There, shadowed in the 

doorway, stood the girl. For a moment her image 

blurred with one from my memory. I knew then I 

would help them, regardless of the risk. 

Again, I took the woman's wrist. Tapping into 

what little reserves I'd tucked away, I focused all my 

concentration into bringing back the weave of her 

life. The heat flew through me then, sliding into her 

body, burning out her fever and pain. Hot ribbons of 

health wove themselves into her body. 

I released her wrist then, exhausted by this minor 

act. I smiled a bit at this, I who had brought armies 

to their knees with a flick of my wrist, swooning at 

this child's play. 

And what did my generosity get me? 

44 


A private room in the bloody Tower. 

The people I helped weren't to blame. They 

couldn't have been expected to keep quiet about 

their miraculous healings, I suppose. Though I suspect 

the tale was embellished by the time it reached 

the ears of the clergy. 

The Protestants and the Catholics had been going 

at it ever since Mary came to the throne, but the one 

thing they agreed on was that anything smacking of 

witchcraft was to be dealt with severely. 

For some reason the local priest, who was the first 

person to see me after I was captured, didn't want to 

kill me right off. Perhaps it was my skin, or maybe 

he hoped to gain points with bishop. At any rate, I 

was taken to London and then sent to the Tower. 

Página 22


Where I remained for months. 

I'd heard that there were prisoners here who'd 

been forgotten for years. But I tried not to dwell on 

that. 

Spring passed, then summer. 

All Hallows Eve. 

Dark came early. Through my slit of a window, I 

could see the fine mist ushering a heavy fog. The 

flickering torches looked unreal and ghostly. A perfect 

night for the devil's work. If you believed in 

that sort of thing. 

I'd been'sitting in the dark for several hours. The 

worst thing about imprisonment was boredom. But 

this wasn't the first time I'd been in such a situation. 

Then I heard it. A faint sound from down in the base 

of the tower. 

Then footsteps on the stone steps. They were 

45 


coming to kill me, I knew it. After all this time, they 

had remembered and were dispatching me at last. 

The least I could do was go to my death on my feet. 

But somehow I couldn't force myself to move from 

the cold stone floor where I sat. 

The sound of voices. I thought they might be arguing. 

Then more footsteps. The lock was opened 

and the door swung in. 

I put my hand up against the sudden brightness of 

a lamp. A rustle of fabric. Any moment now I would 

feel the bum of the blade. 

"You may leave us now," a voice said. 

A voice I knew. 

I dropped my hand and blinked. It couldn't be, yet 

it was. 

Standing across from me, robed in heavy velvet 

and fur, was Alachia. 

"What are you doing here?" I asked. 

She frowned. "You never have learned any manners," 

she said. "Do you not know that you are to 

rise in the presence of a queen?" 

I snorted. "Blood Wood is long gone," I said. "Its 

ashes have been forgotten more times than either of 

us can remember. You're no more a queen than I." 

"You never were ambitious," she said. 

"No, just not foolish and vain." 

Her frown deepened. Even with such a withering 

expression on her face, she was still beautiful. The 

skin was as pale, the hair as fiery red, and the eyes 

Página 23


as blue. Not as stunning as she'd been, but part of 

that was due to the changes in the magic. Now her 

beauty was more human. 

46 


"You are an annoyance," she said. "But you are 

my cross to bear. Isn't that an amusing expression? 

Tell me, aren't you curious as to why I am visiting 

you?" 

I didn't answer. I knew it would annoy her. How 

odd that even after all this time we fell back into our 

old patterns. 

"Well, I'll tell you," she said. Her voice was gleeful 

and fairly danced with excitement. "In a fortnight, 

I am again to gain a throne. Admittedly, not as 

impressive as those I've left behind me, but it will 

do in the meantime." 

"What are you talking about?" I asked. 

"Haven't you heard?" she asked. "Mary is dying 

and Elizabeth is to be crowned queen. Don't you 

think Henry is turning over in his grave? Killing off 

that poor girl's mother because she couldn't give 

him sons. Brutal bastard." 

"What has that to do with you?" 

"Why, my dear, haven't you guessed yet?" 

I stared at her for a moment, then, through the 

dullness of my mind, comprehension. 

"Are you mad?" I asked. 

"What do you mean?" she said coyly. 

I was staggered. She'd been interfering for years 

in things that weren't our business—but this—this 

was too-much. 

"How do you propose to achieve this miracle?" I 

asked. "Don't you think people will see the difference 

between you?" 

"Ah, I have been planning this for years," she 

said. "It has taken an immense amount of time and 

47 


energy. Do you think that I just popped up yesterday? 

Oh no, I have been Elizabeth for quite some 

time." 

"But her servants, teachers, surely someone .. ." 

"A simple enough matter to arrange. A spell here, 

a spell there .. . and patience. Such patience as you 

have never known. And now, at last, I'm in a position 

where I can do something." 

I could only stare at her. It was madness—sheer 

and utter madness. How she could possibly think she 

Página 24


could maintain such a farce was beyond me. 

"Aina," she said, "you have always been so shortsighted. 

We can control what happens over the next 

thousand years. Make the world over in our image. 

Think of it—the power will come back again. Not 

this trickle, but a deluge of energy to rip loose the 

moorings of the world—unless we make certain of 

the proper order of things. Humans are sheep. We 

will always rule them. 

"The legends and tales you strew about aren't 

enough. We must have more. We must control them. 

This is our destiny." 

Even had I wanted to stand, I didn't think my legs 

would hold me. What she was proposing was monstrous. 

It went against everything I believed about 

our place. Our purpose. We had a duty to perform. 

We were to keep the world safe so that the knowledge 

would survive from age to age. 

She knew what I did—how could she discard it all 

for so clumsy a form of power? But then, power had 

always entranced her. And so much of her mind 

would never be known to me. She was far older than I. 

48 


And I have lived so long that Sisyphus's chore 

looked like a blessing to me. 

"You pervert what we are," I said. 

"This pious attitude is quite boring, Aina," she 

said. "I think I liked you better before you lost your 

faithful companion. He certainly would never have 

tolerated such an attitude. And he could goad you 

into so many things." 

I felt the blood draining from my face and blessed 

my dark skin. Cruelty was her hallmark. How could 

I have let my guard down for even a second? The 

energy drained from me then. I didn't have the 

strength now to battle with her. 

"What has all this to do with me?" I asked. 

She walked closer to me. The wide span of her 

skirts just touched the ragged hem of my cloak. 

"I want your assurance that you won't interfere 

with my plans," she said. "I know you could make 

things difficult for me and I won't have it. There has 

been too much time and energy devoted to this for 

you to create problems." 

"How did you know I was in England?" I asked. 

"That was a happy accident," she said. "For the 

last few years I've made it my business to keep 

abreast of any rumors of witchcraft. When I heard 

about a dark-skinned woman with white hair who'd 

been arrested for sorcery, well, I assumed it must be 

you." 

"Have you known all along that I've been here?" 

Página 25

I asked. 


"Of course," she said. "I just couldn't take any 

49 


action on it for a while. Besides, I wanted you out of 

the way until I decided what to do with you." 

I closed my eyes. Knowing Alachia, she could 

keep me here for decades before letting me go. By 

that time I might well have lost my mind. 

"What do you propose?" I asked. 

"Just what I said. You keep out of my way in this 

matter. I will act as queen to this tiny nation." 

"This is madness, Alachia," I said. "Why would 

you want this?" 

"Because I need to rule," she said. 

"And if I don't agree?" 

"I'll find someplace where I can leave you to rot," 

she said. "You won't die, unfortunately. But you'll 

certainly wish you had. That is, if you still have 

your sanity intact after all those years locked up and 

alone. It's really not much of a choice, is it?" 

She had me there. I couldn't stop her from what 

she was about. But I could certainly see my way 

clear to making her life difficult once she let me out. 

"Very well," I said. "I agree." 

She came to the throne on November 17, 1558 

and ruled for an astonishing forty-five years. And at 

every turn I made her way as difficult as possible. 

Oh I didn't act directly; that has never been my way. 

But I knew people on both sides, and it was a simple 

matter to sow the seeds of distrust and paranoia. All 

I had to do was stir the pot. Between juggling the 

French and Spanish, she was forced to look to the 

welfare of the country. 

50 


Besides, it was a source of constant amusement to 

me that she was referred to as the Virgin Queen. 

That wasn't the first, nor would it be the last, time 

she did such a thing. But the brazenness with which 

she acted in this matter always amazed me. And after 

that time, I always made sure to stop her whenever 

I could. 

51 

Do you think you'll escape me through the past? 

Do you think that by telling them you'll be safe? 

Don't you know that I've been waiting— 

Página 26

as patient as time itself? 


Don't you know you can never stop me? 

"I tried to stop her," I said. 

"What?" asked Caimbeul. 

I hadn't realized I'd spoken aloud. 

"Nothing," I said. With a quick snap of my wrist 

I pulled the drapes together and shut out the storm. 

"I suppose I should pack." 

There was the creak of leather as he settled back 

into my chair. 

"So," he said, "you're going to tell them. Where 

will you go first?" 

"The Seelie Court," I said. "It should be the least 

hostile reception." 

"If you can find them." 

This made me laugh. 

"Ah, Caimbeul," I said. "That will be the easy part." 

It was drizzling the next morning as we loaded 

our bags into Caimbeul's rental car. I'd set the alarm 

52 


and cast spells, and as I locked the front door I had 

the terrible feeling that this would be the last time I 

would ever see Arran. 

Damn them all, I thought. If they would only have 

listened. If they 'd stopped playing with things they 

only barely understood. Then I wouldn't have to 

leave my house and venture into matters I've spent 

hundreds of years avoiding. 

But I knew the worst of the bunch were the ones 

who knew the dangers and went ahead with their 

foolishness anyway. Damn them, too. 

Caimbeul had opened the passenger-side door and 

stood there waiting for me to get in. I dropped into the 

synthleather seat, sniffing the vinyl scent of new car as 

I did. After shutting the door behind me, Caimbeul 

came around the front of the car and got in on his side. 

"I made some plane reservations while you were 

still asleep," he said. "It was bloody expensive and 

I expect to be reimbursed." 

"I can't believe you're bringing up money at a 

time like this," I said. 

Out the comer of my eye I saw him shrug. 

"I know you're good for it," he said. 

Página 27


"So are you. You've got piles of the stuff hidden 

everywhere. What's a plane ticket to you?" 

"That's not it," he said, primly. "It's the principle 

of the thing." ' 

"The principle of the ..." And then I couldn't 

continue because I was laughing too hard. 

I contented myself with watching the passing scenery 

and playing with the vid, trying to get some de- 

53 


cent signal to come in. But all I found were walls of 

noise and static. Finally I managed to tune in a prehistoric 

station that was doing a retrospective of 

tum-of-the-century music. Snapping off the trideo 

portion, I let the sounds wash over me. I confess I 

liked the older flat-screen stuff: Nine Inch Nails, 

Cold Bodies, Sister Girl's Straight Jacket. Nothing 

like a little atonality with my angst. 

Every so often I would glance over at Caimbeul. 

Excuse me. Harlequin. I don't think that name will 

ever come trippingly to my lips. And I hate what it 

represents even more. 

Yes, I know you think you understand him. You 

might even think you know him well, but you don't. 

I've known him for longer than either of us cares to 

remember. And he wasn't as you see him now. That 

stupid painted face. Though he wasn't what many 

would call handsome, I have always found him attractive. 

Maybe even beautiful. Oh, I know that 

sounds peculiar, but there is an aspect of ugliness 

that is so shocking and strange it becomes beauty. 

And his wild hair, all gold and brown woven together. 

He'd let it grow long again, which I like. But 

he insisted on pulling it back in that ridiculous pony 

tail. It made me want to sneak up behind him with 

a scissors and cut it off. Either you wear it long or 

you don't was my way of thinking. 

His hands lay easily on the wheel. I knew they 

were smooth and feminine with calluses on the fingertips. 

There was a hint of yellow between the first 

and second fingers where he held those Gaullets he 

smoked. And he smelled of tobacco and clean linen. 

54 


And I wondered whether he remembered those 

sorts of things about me. The little details that only 

come from intimacy. 

"Will you turn that off?" he asked. 

"I like it," I replied as I leaned forward and 

nudged the volume button up a little. 

"I know," he said. "You always did have terrible 

taste in music." 

"No, I've always had broad taste in music. Unlike 

Página 28


you who only seem to like classical music and the 

occasional jazz group." 

"I prefer to think of it as a refined taste." 

"I know you do." 

We didn't say anything else and I went back to 

watching the kilometers slip by as the rain streamed 

across the windows. 

Edinburgh was crowded. Old ladies were crying 

and hugging uncomfortable-looking teens. Suits hurried 

by, oblivious to everything but their own sense 

of self-importance. I've never been too fond of corporate 

thinking. That whole bigger is better drek was 

what had led to most of the problems in the world, 

as far as I could tell. Okay, indoor plumbing was the 

one exception to this rule, but otherwise ... 

We found the gate for the flight to Tir na nOg. As 

we came around the comer, I saw that the usual security 

measures were in place. All our luggage was 

going to be searched. There would be the usual 

weapons scan and the endless procession of bureaucratic 

red tape. Like I said: corporate thinking. 

55 

Caroline Spectw 

The worst of it was that once we got to the Tir, all 

this would begin again. 

As we approached the head of the line, the elven 

official looked up from the display screen where he 

was sliding credsticks to check documentation. He 

gestured us forward, ignoring several people ahead 

of us. 

"May I see your passports and visas?" he said. He 

tried to keep it polite, but you could tell he wasn't 

going to take no for an answer. 

We handed over our sticks with our IDs and travel 

permits on them, and he asked us to step into a small 

room off the main corridor. As the door shut behind 

us I could hear the other passengers whispering to 

each other. You could cut the paranoia with a knife. 

"Is there a problem?" Caimbeui asked. 

The security drone didn't answer as he sat down 

at a display on the far side of a small formica table 

in the center of the room. The walls were a dirty 

white and one of the fluorescent lights flickered on 

and off erratically. I read his name off his badge: 

Clovis Blackeye. No wonder he was an officious 

prig. With a name like that I'd be a drekhead, too. 

He was gaunt and stoop-shouldered for an elf. His 

hair was tied back into a ponytail and was shot 

through with premature gray. A perpetual expression 

of misery lined his face and made his eyes look 

sunken and bruised. He knew he would never be 

anything more than a low-level bureaucrat. 

Sometimes there was no explaining UGE. 

Página 29

"I said, 'Is there a problem?' " 

56 



Clovis finally looked up from the screen. His 

beady eyes swung from Caimbeui to me. 

"It says here that you're visiting relatives in Tir 

na n6g. But it doesn't list who those relatives might 

be." 

"Is that necessary?" I asked. 

"How do we know you really have relatives in the 

Tir? Maybe you're from that other place, come to 

cause trouble." 

"That other place?" 

"Tir Taimgire. The fallen ones." 

I glanced at Caimbeui and he rolled his eyes. 

Nothing worse than a patriotic officious prick. 

"And perhaps we have relatives who don't want 

every low-level clerk knowing who their relatives 

are," I said. 

His flat piggy nose flared slightly. 

"That's not for you to decide," he said. "Now tell 

me or you don't get on that plane." 

I leaned forward across the table then and grabbed 

his collar. For a moment I thought he might resist, 

but the force of my will kept him from moving. It 

was as easy as a snake hypnotizing a rat. 

"Listen to me, little brother," I said in Eireann 

sperethiel. My accent might have been a bit off, but 

otherwise I was letter perfect. "You are playing in 

things far beyond your knowledge or concern. You 

wish to know who we are to visit? Then come closer 

and I shall tell you." 

I jerked him across the table and whispered a 

name in his ear. The blood fled from his already 

pasty cheeks. As he pulled away, I let him see me— 

57 


really see me. These are the kinds of tricks I hate— 

obvious displays of power—but he'd slotted me off. 

"Now you can well imagine how annoyed this 

person would be if they discovered their name came 

up in this sort of situation," I said. "So I would suggest 

that we all forget this unfortunate incident." 

Old Clovis was only too happy to oblige. He gave 

us back our papers like he'd just discovered they'd 

been tainted with VITAS. We were ushered onto the 

plane without further delay. I settled into the thick 

leather upholstered seats of the first-class section 

Página 30


and smiled at the attendant who handed me a glass 

of single malt scotch. 

"Was that really necessary?" asked Caimbeui after 

she moved away. 

"What?" I said, letting my eyes go wide and innocent. 

"That show you put on back there." 

The plane gave a little lurch as it backed from the 

gate. I glanced out the scratched window. Below me 

I could see the orange lights on the ground. 

"No," I said. "We could have missed the flight 

snaking around with him. But I didn't have the patience 

for it. Besides, he's going to be too scared to 

tell anyone. He believes in the omnipotence of the 

Elders. You could see it in his eyes." 

"But you showed him ..." 

"I showed him what would impress him the most. 

Some people are so literal." 

"I missed you." 

"What?" It was a strange and unexpected nonsequitur. 

And I couldn't believe my ears. 

58 


"Well, I didn't miss the arguing. But I missed you 

when you get like this." 

I didn't say anything to that. 

It wouldn't have made any difference anyway. 

59 

She's running. 

The forest is alive with sounds and smells. In the 

distance, the dying rabbit cries sound like a child's 

screams. The heavy scent of new-dug earth hangs in 

the air. Branches slap against her face, and no matter 

how she tries to push them away, they keep coming 

back. 

Something is behind her. She doesn 't know what it 

is—only that it will kill her if it can. Looking over 

her shoulder, she tries to see what it is. So she 

doesn't see when she steps off into space. 

She's falling now. 

Falling with nothing to save her. 

8 

I jerked awake as the plane passed into the Veil. It 

was a nasty jolt of reality, being sound asleep one 

moment and wide-awake the next. A tingling started 

at the nape of my neck and worked its way up my 

skull. 

Pushing the plastic shade up, I peered out the win- 

Página 31


dow. There was nothing but thick gray and white 

clouds like the smoke of burning leaves. I struggled 

against the effects of the Veil. The clouds tried to 

form themselves into shapes. What part of my sub- 

60 


conscious was being dredged up? I didn't want to 

know and pulled the shade down with a snap. We'd 

be on the ground in half an hour. I could hold out 

against the effects until then. 

"Pretty potent stuff," said Caimbeul. "The Veil. It 

makes me wish they would use some other sort of 

protection." 

I shoved a hand through my hair. It was virtually 

gone now. After centuries of having it long, I'd finally 

cut it all off. All that was left were spiky white 

sprouts about an inch and a half long. My head felt 

smooth and cool under my fingers. 

"Too potent," I said. "They're only aggravating 

things." 

"You've said that every time anyone's used magic 

on any scale." 

I didn't answer him, knowing that we'd just run 

over the same ground again. The engines whined 

and I felt the thump as the landing gear lowered. 

Then I shoved the shade up again. We broke through 

the clouds and I could see buildings below us. From 

here everything looked small and not at all real. Up 

here we were still safe. 

I closed my eyes then, breathing slowly and 

deeply to relax myself. I had my usual landing 

death-grip on the chair arms. Blowing up in a ball of 

fire was not the'way I wanted to end my unnatural 

life. My ears popped several times and I opened and 

closed my mouth to help. Then I felt it. 

The smooth calluses and the suede glide of 

Caimbeul's hand closing over mine. I didn't pull 

away. It was too comforting and familiar. I kept my 

61 


eyes closed, not wanting to see when we burst into 

a huge ball of fire. 

There was a sudden bounce and we were on the 

ground. Caimbeul's hand disappeared and I was left 

with only the memory of his warm touch. 

Once, years ago, I lived in the United States. 

I'd come to America during the eighteen-hundreds 

when news that the Sioux were using ritual magic 

drifted across the Atlantic to the fashionable parlors 

I frequented then. It was a topic of much conversation 

for a few months, until other, more interesting 

scandals pushed their way into idle gossip. 

But I knew the Sioux were playing with danger- 

Página 32

ous mojo. 


The reports told of self-mutilation to help the 

magic. Blood magic. It was too early for that sort of 

thing—unless they'd found a place of power. They 

were playing with forces they couldn't understand 

and wouldn't be able to control, even if by some 

freak chance they did work. 

I booked passage on the next available steamer 

and was making my way west in a matter of weeks. 

There was no time for me to admire the rawness of 

the country. Everything was new here. Fresh starts 

for anyone willing to take it. The weight of history 

had barely settled onto the land. 

But that is another part of the story. The time I am 

thinking of came later, in the late nineteen-thirties 

and early forties. I was living in Texas then. The war 

known as the War to End All Wars was barely cold. 

The embers of it still smoldered in the battlefields of 

62 


Europe. But apparently they weren't ready for them 

to be out yet. That little Austrian man stirred it all 

up again and the depths of his hateful vision 

wouldn't be known for another six years. But by 

then, it would be too late for us all. 

But in Austin we didn't know about any of that. 

The world came to us through newspapers, magazines, 

radio—and through the movies. 

It was a blistering hot summer. But that was nothing 

unusual. Most people left the city for cooler 

parts of the Hill Country. The ones who remained 

made do with fans, ice blocks, and shade. In the evening 

the temperature would drop into the high seventies. 

It was almost bearable. 

Once the initial shock of the war wore off, life 

went on as usual. For the most part. Most Americans 

thought they would be exempt from the conflict. After 

all, what did it have to do with them, this bloody 

war in Europe? 

And so, on this summer night with the heavy 

scent of lantana and moonflowers in the air, I went 

to the movies. Some people were afraid of being in 

closed places because of the polio, but that was 

never a concern of mine. 

The theater was dimly lit and I used a fan given 

away at the local Herbert E. Butts grocery store to 

push the sweltering air about. The lights went down 

and the newsreel began. Of course, the war in Europe 

was the first item. I watched as scene after 

scene of destruction flashed across the screen. Many 

things were being blown up in Poland and France 

and England. 

63 


Then we were looking at images of happily wav- 

Página 33


ing crowds. The little man rode through them making 

his straight-arm salute to the frantically waving 

masses. 

And then I saw her. 

At first I couldn't believe my eyes, but the shot 

held and I knew what I was seeing was true. It was 

Alachia. 

She was sitting in one of the cars in the rear of the 

procession. An expression of perfect happiness was 

etched in her face. A blond man with his hair slicked 

back and perfect Aryan features waved at the crowds 

while his other arm encircled her waist. He smiled 

down at her and she smiled back. They were gone in 

an instant, replaced by the image of refugees fleeing 

down some unknown road. 

The screen went black and then the Parade of 

Fashions appeared. Sweat rolled down my face but I 

was suddenly cold. So very cold. 

We rode the shuttle bus headed south toward Dublin, 

hooking up to Dorsett Street once we were in the 

city proper. 

We'd made it through customs relatively easily. 

There was no need to resort to the sort of tactics I'd 

used on that idiotic bureaucrat from before. Like 

many of the Dublin streets, this one turned and bent 

and changed names. We took a left onto Church 

Street and headed south toward the river. Four 

Courts was to our left. The dome of the central 

building was covered in the green patina that comes 

to all copper as it ages. It was a beautiful piece of 

64 


neoclassical work. All white columns and statuary at 

every corner. The fact that it was standing after all 

this time gave me a fleeting feeling of permanence. 

As we crossed Whitworth Bridge, I looked out the 

window. Below us the Liffey River flowed a grayjade 

color, the dark clouds of the late-October sky 

barely reflected in its depths. 

At the next stop, we left the tram and cut across 

West High Street. It was a strange experience, to see 

almost as many elves as humans walking about. No 

one gave us a second look. Oh well, perhaps one or 

two. We were dressed better than the average Dubliner. 

I know the reports out of the Tir have it that 

the land is green and milk and honey flow from every 

stream, but after all, this is Eire. 

Poverty has been at the throat of the people for 

generations. And goblinization hadn't changed that. 

Perhaps no one was starving, but all was not well in 

the Tir. 

At St. Nicholas Street we headed south and cut 

west before we reached St. Patrick's Park. I glanced 

back to see if anyone was following us. An old 

woman pulled a shopping cart filled with vegetables, 

but as far as I could see there was no one tailing us. 

Página 34


"How long since you've been here?" I asked 

Caimbeul. 

"Oh, I get about," he said, shrugging. 

"Meaning you've been here recently." 

He gave me hard stare. "Yes. I was here recently. 

I was invited to attend a wedding." 

"Whose wedding?" 

"I'd rather not say." 

65 


"Because I wasn't invited?" 

"Well, yes." 

"Well, I don't care about that," I lied. Weddings 

were highly symbolic events in the elven community. 

Full of alliances and power-jockeying. Not 

being invited meant I wasn't considered a power 

anymore. That would hurt me when I went to 

the Court. No doubt Alachia's hand at work once 

more. 

We worked our way across the maze of streets that 

led to St. Stephen's Green. Nestled next to ancient 

stone buildings were brick flats put up in the 

nineteen-hundreds next to chip-implanting shops. 

Dublin wasn't a flash city like New York or LA. She 

crept up on you and worked her charms in subtler 

ways. A hint of the past here. A bit of the future 

there. 

Once we were in St. Stephen's I relaxed a little. I 

was certain no one was tailing us: the old woman 

had turned off on Bride Street. Since then, the crowd 

thickened and thinned, but no one seemed at all interested 

in Caimbeui and me. 

"Where do you want to stay?" Caimbeui asked. 

"Stephen's Hall?" 

"Do they have a decent security rating?" 

"Good enough," I said. "It's not like we're going 

underground." 

The hotel overlooked St. Stephen's Green with its 

emerald grass and drooping willows. We checked in 

and followed the troll bell boy up to our suite. 

We left a wake-up call for six. 

* * * 

66 


The rains came at four. I woke to a crash of thunder 

and the sound of hail hitting the windows. For a 

Página 35


moment I was disoriented and thought I was back in 

the kaer. A suffocating darkness pressed against me. 

But then I saw the night sky as Caimbeui opened the 

drapes. 

"Where did this come from?" he wondered aloud. 

"If I were more superstitious," I said, "I would 

say it was a sign." 

"A sign?" 

"Yes. They know we're here. But it's more likely 

this is the Doineann Draoidheil." 

He didn't say anything to that. Knowing he was 

watching there at the window made me feel safe. 

And as I drifted back to sleep, I smiled. 

67 

Tonight she doesn't dream. 

9 

Bells. 

I swam up from the murky depths and realized before 

I opened my eyes that it was the telephone. 

Couldn 't they afford to replace these fraggin' antiques? 

I thought. Swatting at the phone, I managed 

to drag it from its cradle and sent the base crashing 

to the floor. Damn things, I never got used to them 

when they appeared and now that they were obsolete, 

I was still plagued with them. 

"Whazzit?" 

"Your wake-up call." The voice was computerized 

and pretematurally perky. I hate that. 

I let the receiver drop. It missed the base and 

thudded on the carpet. Burrowing further into the 

covers, I let the lovely blackness drag me down 

again. 

"Aina," said Caimbeui, pulling the covers off me. 

"Time to get up." 

I lay there for a moment not moving. It occurred 

to me that though we Elders weren't supposed to 

mortally wound one another, there was always a first 

time for everything. Instead, I rolled onto my back 

68 


and glared at him in what I hoped would be a frightening 

manner. 

"That won't work," he said. He was dressed in 

black. His hair was pulled back into that annoying 

ponytail. At least he'd laid off dyeing it red for a 

while. "I'm not even a little intimidated by your bad 

moods. I lived with them for years. They just don't 

impress me anymore." 

I muttered something unintelligible, hoping it 

Página 36


would be taken for a scathing remark. But it wasn't. 

He knew me too well. 

Stumbling to the bathroom, I hoped that there was 

at least hot water for a shower. 

We rented a car and made our way west from 

Dublin out of Dublin County through Kildare to Offaly 

and into Galway. A heavy mist lay over the land 

making the greens muted and soft. Much of the land 

had gone wild. I knew this was part of the Awakening. 

The land was going back to what it was before humans 

had put their mark upon it. Remnants of that 

earlier time existed before the Awakening. The 

Giant's Causeway in Antrim was one such place. 

Some said it was cooling lava that produced the 

hexagon-shaped stones leading from the mountains 

down to the sea, but I knew better. 

"How are you going to find the Court?" Caimbeui 

asked. "They could be anywhere." 

"Yes, but those who know where they are keep to 

certain places. We're going there." 

"To the tombs?" 

69 


"Yes, and other places." 

"You know how I hate the tombs." 

"Life is suffering, Caimbeul. Didn't you know 

that?" 

Because of the fog, it took us four hours to reach 

The Bun-en. The land here was wilder than other 

areas of the Tfr. Perhaps because the people who 

lived in this part of Ireland had never been far from 

their Celtic roots. Even before the Awakening, 

Gaelic was the primary language for large sections 

of Galway. 

As we passed, I saw fingers of gray rock clawing 

up through the thin soil. Dark green thorn trees 

twisted against the fierce ocean wind. Sheer cliffs 

dropped down to rocky seashores. 

The Burren was a flat plain of gray limestone 

rock. Deep fissures cut down into the slabs of stone, 

scarring the rock. The only things that grew there 

were wildflowers that sprang up between the cracks. 

I parked the car and we started up the Burren. 

Once there would have been tourists clambering 

over the outcroppings. Now there was a stillness that 

hung in the air and seeped slowly into my bones. 

"Come on," I said softly. 

We made our way, for once not bickering about 

how fast or slow one or the other was going. I 

stopped every so often to pluck flowers that grew 

from the crevices. I wove them into necklaces as we 

walked. I kept one for myself and handed one to 

Página 37


Caimbeul. He gave me a skeptical look, but slipped 

his into his pocket. 

70 


The mist was getting thicker and thicker as we 

walked. I stumbled over the uneven rock and wished 

I'd thought to bring a walking stick. Then we were 

upon it. A large fissure in the rock. It was large 

enough for one of us to slip through at a time. 

"Well," I said. "I'm going down. You can wait 

here for me if you want." 

Caimbeul gave a disgusted snort. 

"You think they'll listen to you without me?" he 

asked. 

I looked up at him then, deep into his forest-green 

eyes. We knew each other well, Caimbeul and I, and 

I knew this ploy for what it was. 

"Oh yes, dear Harlequin," I replied. "I think they 

will listen to me very well. They know who I am." 

It was cool in the cave. We were crawling on our 

stomachs down a long passageway with only a small 

light to lead us. I'd cast the spell once we'd found 

ourselves in this narrowing corridor and I couldn't 

hold my flashlight any longer. 

"Remind me to tell you how much I enjoy crawling 

through a cave in my very best shoes and coat," 

Harlequin said. 

"Don't complain," I replied. "It could be worse." 

"How so?" 

He ran into my heels and gave a little oomph. 

"It could be wet." 

"Oh, what a lovely thought." 

Just then I crawled around a comer and popped 

out into a large cavem. Stalactites and stalagmites 

grew down from the ceiling and up from the floor. 

71 


In the center of the cavern was a lake. Its surface 

was mirror perfect and black as night. 

I turned around and helped Caimbeui as he too 

crawled out. There was dirt and dust covering his 

clothes. He slapped at it, but it didn't help. When he 

looked up at me again, I could see the annoyance in 

his face. I put my finger to my mouth, then pointed 

at the lake. 

I walked away from him toward the edge of the 

water. The only sound was the crunch of stones 

under my boots. As I reached the edge of the lake, 

Página 38


I leaned over and picked up a small stone. Straightening, 

I spoke, 

"Hear me, Fin Bheara, King of the Daoine Sidhe, 

King of the Dead. It is Aina. I would speak with 

you." 

My voice rang out and echoed against the silent 

rocks. For a long moment there was nothing. No answering 

sound. Then, there was a grinding noise. 

The ground trembled and I stumbled a bit before regaining 

my balance. 

The water began to bubble and boil. Steam rose 

from the surface and soon blanketed the entire room. 

From the water rose a boat. It was made of wood 

and gold. A throne was affixed in the center of the 

deck. Sitting in it was the spirit who liked to be 

known as Finvarra. 

He was as I remembered, perhaps even larger than 

before. The power of the Awakening had seeped into 

his veins as well as mine. 

The boat moved toward the shore where I stood, 

cutting smoothly through the water, leaving only the 

72 


slightest wake to mar the perfect sheen. I could see 

no oarsmen or sails, but that is the way of faerie. It 

stopped about a meter from shore and rested there. 

"Greetings, Finvarra," I said. "You do me a great 

honor." 

He laughed. It was harsh and grating, and yet it 

sounded like music to me. 

"Aina," he said. "Sweet mother. How may I 

help?" 

"I would find the Seelie Court, Finvarra," I replied. 

"Though to hear some tell it, I am no longer 

considered a power in Tir na nOg." 

"Come down from there, Caimbeui," Finvarra 

said. "You make me nervous lurking about." 

I heard Caimbeui curse as he slipped and slid his 

way toward us. 

"You haven't answered my question," I said. 

"Where is the Seelie Court?" 

Finvarra leaned back on his throne and studied 

me. I returned the favor. His gray eyes were as 

piercing as ever and the sharp planes of his face 

were more cruel than kind. A thin gold circlet rested 

on his brow. Long thin hands rested on bony knees. 

His clothing, made of leaves and bark and animal 

pelts, reminded me of what we'd worn in Blood 

Wood all those centuries ago. 

Then I noticed that lying at his feet was a young 

woman. She was dressed in a tight purple dress with 

thigh-high black patent leather boots. Part of her 

head was shaved so the datajack she'd had im- 

Página 39


planted could be easily accessed. She seemed to be 

asleep. 

73 

Caroline Spector X 

"Up to your old tricks again," I said. f 

" "Tis nothing," he said. "A harmless amusement." m 

"What would Oonagh say?" I knew I had to play J 

along. 

"What she doesn't know . . . Besides, this is all 

rather off the point. You wish to know where the 

Seelie Court is currently residing." 

"Yes." | 

"Perhaps they don't wish to be found." ' 

"No. I suspect they don't. And I suspect I know 

why they don't want to hear from me." 

Finvarra smiled at me. His teeth were yellow and , 

very long. | 

"Now we're getting somewhere," he said. "Per- | 

haps I can help you. If you are willing to do some- ; 

thing for me." | 

"And what might that be?" I asked. "\ 

"A test," he replied. "A simple challenge of your 

will. My subjects will be more than happy to admin- , 

ister it. If you succeed, we take you to the Court. If -H 

you fail, well, that will be your lookout, won't it?" • 

"And who decides whether I win or lose?" J 

"Why that, dear mother, you will have to figure « 

out for yourself." • 

With that, the boat sped away from me. It left u 

barely a ripple in the water and the mist closed m 

around it, hiding it from my sight. I stepped forward, J 

the edge of the lake touching my toes. What now? I J 

wondered. j» 

"Well, that was helpful," said Caimbeul. !• 

I spun about, ready to give him a cutting remark J 

74 


when behind me something burst forth from the water 

and grabbed me. 

In a flash I was being pulled down into the blackness. 

The water was freezing and I hadn't caught a 

breath. I fought against the urge to inhale. My eyes 

were open, but I couldn't see much. I looked down 

and saw that I was being held by a each-uisge. My 

legs were helplessly stuck to its chest and forelegs. 

Its clawed hands were clasped about my thighs. The 

head was that of a horse with razor-sharp teeth. 

It would pull me down into the water until I 

drowned and then feast upon my flesh, except for my 

liver, which it would no doubt spit up at Caimbeul's 

feet. It was a prospect I didn't relish. 

I let myself go limp, playing dead, hoping this 

would slow its descent. It did. Then I jerked my 

arms apart and uttered the words. Between my hands 

a whirling of water started. It began to glow and lit 

Página 40


the each-uisge with blue light. The water spun faster 

and faster until it narrowed into a fine, laser-like 

point. I pointed it downward at the each-uisge's 

head. There was the muffled sound of a shriek, and 

then the creature's head disappeared. Its claws went 

slack on my thighs, but I was still stuck to its chest. 

My lungs were burning and spots floated before 

my eyes. The dead weight of the each-uisge was 

pulling me down. I had a panicky moment as I 

started to inhale some water. With every ounce of 

power left in my arms, I swam up to the surface. 

Just as I thought I would never reach it, I broke 

through. The air hurt as I gasped. I floundered for a 

75 


moment before Caimbeui grabbed me by my collar 

and pulled me from the water. 

He laid me, none too gently, on the stony bank. I 

coughed up water and hacked out some bile. My 

legs felt heavy, and I realized the each-uisge was 

still stuck to them. 

"Cut it off," I said. 

"That won't work. You'll have pieces of it stuck 

to your pants forever." 

"Well, it's better than dragging the whole thing 

along with me," I said, coughing up more water. 

"Take off your pants," he said. 

"Oh, fragging hell," I said. I unbuttoned my jeans 

and skinned them off. It took a while between the 

wet and the each-uisge. 

"And so that was the test?" he asked. 

"N-n-no," I stammered. My teeth were chattering 

and gooseflesh had broken out over my body. "T-tthat 

was a warning. They're serious about the test." 

"Well," he said, looking chagrined that he hadn't 

helped, "we'd better get you out of those wet 

things." 

He wrapped his arms around me. I let myself lean 

against him and take in his warmth and scent. It was 

good to be there, if only for a moment. 

76 

She can't move. Legs and arms like lead. But she 

hears ... things. 

Things rustling beyond her line of sight. 

Things with evil intentions. 

10 

"What next?" Caimbeui asked. 

I was sitting in the back seat of the car pulling dry 

clothes on. My coat and boots were ruined, so I 

Página 41


wadded them up in a towel I'd taken from the hotel. 

Under normal circumstances I wouldn't have indulged 

in that sort of petty larceny, but these weren't 

normal times. 

Caimbeui was driving. We were heading southwest 

away from The Bun-en. I pulled a heavy gray 

sweater over my head, then slid on black jeans. 

Sneakers were next, after which I climbed over the 

front seat to the passenger side. 

"Better?" he asked. 

"Drier, at least," I replied. "But that brackish 

smell is going to stay with me for a while." 

"Not just you." 

"My apologies," I said. "Next time a each-uisge 

decides to have me for a snack I'll be sure to tell it 

not to get you wet at the same time." 

77 


"I'd appreciate that," he replied. 

"De nada, babycakes." 

"You know I hate it when you call me 

babycakes." 

"Like I said, 'Life is . ..' " 

"I know. I know." 

We stopped in a small town south of The Burren 

for food. It was fast approaching dusk and I wanted 

to be out in the countryside as soon as possible. The 

air was tanged with sea salt and humidity. Though it 

wasn't that cold, the damp seemed to seep into my 

bones, making them ache. 

Leaving the car at the restaurant where we'd 

eaten, we walked to the edge of the town. The road 

out of town was little more than dirt and cobblestones. 

It had played hell on the suspension of the 

rental. I imagined Caimbeui was making a running 

ledger in his head of all the expenses of the trip. 

When this penurious streak had come on him I 

didn't know. 

"Look," he said, grabbing my arm and pointing. 

Off to one side of the road was a grove of trees. It 

was shaded purple and gray in the twilight. A fog 

had rolled in from the sea and made everything look 

fuzzy and insubstantial. Surrounding the grove were 

a series of tiny flickering lights that bobbed and 

floated three meters above the ground. 

Then I heard the faint, delicate tones of music. A 

flute and recorder, I thought. Perhaps a viola thrown 

in there. 

"Ignis fatuus," I said. "Will-o'-the-wisps." 

78 

Página 42



The flower necklace I'd made while we were 

walking The Burren was waterlogged, but still serviceable. 

I'd rescued it from my coat after we'd 

reached the car. Now I put it around my neck. 

"I can't believe you're using that," Caimbeui said. 

"Whatever works." 

"Primrose necklaces to reveal faeries?" 

"Yes," I said. "And you'd better put yours on. I 

don't want to lose you." 

He snorted. 

"I know it hasn't occurred to you before. Harlequin," 

I said. "But you don't know everything. 

Some magic isn't complex—some is made up of 

simple things. And sometimes, that's the most potent 

magic. Because it's so obvious that everyone overlooks 

it." 

"But I thought this was to allow humans to see faerie," 

he said. 

"Oh, come now," I replied. "How many humans 

were ever able to see faerie without their permission, 

help or no? No, this magic is from before human 

memory." 

He pulled the necklace from his pocket. It was 

wilted and droopy. With a sigh, he slipped it over his 

neck. It hung there limp and pathetic, faded green 

and pink against his black leather jacket. 

Sucker. 

I hid my smile and went back to following the 

lights. Every time I thought we were about to catch 

up, they moved away. This went on undl my patience 

began to wear thin. Then, all at once, we were 

at the top of a hill. 

79 


A group of oak trees stood to one side, their 

leaves mostly gone. A circle of toadstools ringed 

around the trees. Inside the ring, the lights flickered 

and bobbed about. They melted and changed shape, 

and eventually I saw what I had come for. 

Dancing around the ring were an assortment of 

the strange and fearful creatures of faerie. Please, 

no laughing. I know that in recent times the idea of 

faerie has come to mean something other, and much 

more pleasant, than what it really was. But since the 

Awakening, I suspect that Disney notion has flown 

out the door. 

For the most part they were dressed in rags or 

pieces of plants. Their thin, sinewy bodies were 

pulled and bent into grotesque shapes. With their 

Página 43


mouths opened to smile, they revealed rows of 

sharp, pointed teeth. Some sported wings while others 

had antennae flowing back from their brows. 

They all had the pointed ears that we elves share. 

Giving rise, no doubt, to the rumors that they are our 

descendants. 

Spriggans danced with leprechauns while fir 

darrigs tripped the unwary. Goblins and pixies tried 

to swing each other out of the circle. They whirled 

and danced and laughed. The shadows they cast 

flickered and strobed. It was Dante's vision of Hell. 

One of the dancers broke from the group and ran 

over to us. It grabbed my hand and pulled me forward. 

"Welcome, mother," it said. "We've been waiting 

for you." 

"What of my friend?" I asked. 

80 


"He is of no account right now." 

We were in the center of the ring. The sharp, wizened 

faces of the faeries jerked in and out of 

shadow. I had thought they were much smaller than 

me at first, but now I saw we were the same height. 

Or perhaps I was shrinking. Like Alice. 

My feet moved along with the music now. I 

looked down and saw my jeans and sweater were 

gone, replaced by a long flowing gown made of 

silver silk. We spun around and around and suddenly 

.. . 

I am on the deck of a large ship. It floats in the 

sky. Magic propels it. Magic that brings both good 

and evil to this world. 

I'm dancing here. 

Dancing with trolls. We sail through the dark 

night sky, laughing and dancing like children. One 

of the trolls is old and wizened. He wears a long 

robe embroidered with patterns. His flesh is wrinkled 

and thick like an elephant's. But he is kind. 

And he is my friend. 

The faces of these trolls flash before me, the 

memory of them clear and bright as day. I'd thought 

I'd forgotten them. But no, that was just a story I 

told myself. 

Now I'm standing'on the deck of the ship. It is the 

afternoon. The ship is in the middle of a battle. The 

trolls are fighting, but where is my friend? I go to 

look for him. 

I find him below-deck lying in a pool of blood. 

He's broken his leg. I have some knowledge of heal- 

81 


Página 44


ing and I try to help him. But I've brought more than 

my healing magic along on this trip. I've brought 

him: Ysrthgrathe. 

I know what happens next. I've played it out in 

my head so many times that I think I've grown 

numb from it. 

But I'm wrong. 

There are some things you never get used to. 

The faeries danced around me, laughing. Cruel 

tricks are their stock and trade. 

"Did you like the dance, mother?" one of the 

spriggans asked. 

I couldn't answer because there was no breath in 

my chest. Tears stung my eyes. But I kept dancing. 

I couldn't stop. 

82 

There's a car. She's driving it through rain-slicked 

streets. The headlights make yellow beams against 

the oily pavement. There's no other traffic. Everything 

is deserted. 

She stops for a red light. There's a tap against the 

passenger-side glass. She looks up. A pockmarked 

face appears at the window, broken fingernails trail 

across the wetness down to the door handle. Too 

late, she realizes that the doors are unlocked. 

She can't keep him out. 

11 

Where was Caimbeui? 

I couldn't stop dancing now. This was part of it. 

Part of the test. And perhaps a bit of revenge at the 

same time. I know they thought they had just cause, 

but that was part of the past, too. 

I looked down and saw that my dress had changed 

again. Glamour. Nasty tricks of the first water. I 

wore a long white dress made of rose petals. Not unlike 

the ones Alachia had favored in Blood Wood. 

I open my eyes. The faeries are gone. 

about, I notice that the trees have died. 

nothing more than hollowed-out stumps. 

83 

As I look 

They are 

It's cold. 


Colder than it should be this time of year. Or anytime 

in Tfr na n6g. 

Looking up, I see that the sky has turned the color 

of old oysters. And the air smells of burnt flesh. 

Página 45


I start to run down the hill, back to the town 

where Caimbeui and I left the car. The fields I run 

through are fallow, dead, and brown. Where there 

was once a cobblestone road, now only small jagged 

pieces of stone show against the dun-colored earth. 

A stillness hangs in the air. But this is not the silence 

of a quiet afternoon. 

The buildings I pass are crumbling. Finally, I come 

to the tavern where we stopped for lunch. No vehicles 

are parked outside. The windows are boarded up, 

but the door hangs open, listing on one hinge. 

I go inside. 

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the 

dark. Broken chairs litter the floor. Glass crunches 

under my feet. There's no one here. 

I walk outside again. 

All around me, everything crumbles to dust. 

And I am alone. 

Tears streamed down my face. The spriggans 

grabbed my hands and spun me about harder and 

faster. The world revolved around me until all I saw 

was a blur of light and motion. Shutting my eyes, I 

tried to block it out. 

I open my eyes. 

We spin about under the azure sky, hands locked 

with one another. 

84 


"Faster," he says. 

"You'll make yourself sick," I reply. 

"Faster." 

So we turn and turn until we both fall down onto 

the soft grass. 

"The sky is spinning," he says. 

I put my hand on his forehead. He is warm, but 

not unusually so. My hand looks so large against his 

tiny forehead. I can hardly believe that this creature, 

this small boy, came from me. 

He pushes my hand away, impatient again to be 

going. In a flash he is up and off and running. 

Chubby legs pump and I see he's beginning to lose 

his baby fat. In another few months he'll be a little 

boy, a baby no longer. And I find I can't bear the 

idea of his growing older. I would keep him like this 

forever. 

From high in the sky, a bird cries out. I look up, 

shadowing my eyes with my hand. It begins a slow 

Página 46


descent, circling around and around. Black with yellow 

wing-tips. 

I hear a shout and turn. The sky has turned dark 

as ink and rain slices down. 

Standing next to our small stone house are my son 

and an old man. Somehow I have missed something. 

Something important, something I must understand. 

Then the man drags my son into the house. The door 

slams shut. An eternity passes, and then a crimson 

pool seeps slowly under the door. 

Tears ran down my face. 

"Mother, did we make you weep?" asked one of 

85 


the spriggans. He looked at me with a concerned expression, 

then burst into laughter. 

"No, no," said another. "She only cries for her 

dead children. The rest of us must shift for ourselves." 

"That's enough of this nonsense," I said loudly. I 

was having trouble breathing. After all, I was getting 

awfully old for this sort of thing. "This is a ridiculous 

game. Tell me what I need to know. Now." 

This caused nothing but giggles from them. 

"You know it's no good demanding anything from 

us," they said. "We always do what we will. Disobedient 

children." 

And then they spun me around faster. 

The room is spinning. The fire in the hearth is hot 

and I feel as though it's burning my bare skin. I'm 

burning up. Hotter and hotter until I think I'll go 

mad from it. Maybe I already have. 

Pain blossoms bright inside me. I shut my eyes 

and see red against black. Hands touch me trying to 

soothe, but it is no use. There are some things for 

which there is no balm. 

Then the pain is over. They bring me something 

bundled up. 

I hold my arms out to receive this gift. I pull back 

the blanket. Inside is a horrible apparition. 

"This is not my baby," I cry. "What have you 

done with my baby?" 

They take the bundle away from me. 

"It's a changeling," says one in a voice she thinks 

86 


is too soft for me to hear. "The faeries have stolen 

her baby." 

Página 47


"You can't blame us. Mother," said the spriggan. 

"That was your own doing." 

"Oh, be quiet," I snapped. The spriggan skulked 

away. 

Sweat ran down my face. I was growing tired of 

their games. 

"Tell me where they are," I said. 

"Patience, Mother," they replied. 

I'm running away. The earth rushes below me as 

I fly. Cradled in my arms is a child. This is no 

changeling, but my own flesh and blood. 

At last we come to our home. Inside, the air is 

stale and musty. But that doesn't matter because we 

are home and safe. 

The storms come. Rain pounds against the roof 

and makes the windows "rattle. But we don't mind, 

we're warm and dry. Then I remember, someone is 

coming. Coming for us. 

The door slams open. He is here. But he's not the 

real threat. I don't realize this until it's too late. 

Foolish foolish woman. 

Something jerked me. 

Someone. 

Caimbeui had hauled me from the dance. Looking 

down, I saw I no longer wore the petal gown. Just 

my own gray sweater and black jeans. Orange 

streaks colored the sky to the east. 

87 


"Why did you do that?" I asked. 

"I just now found you." 

"What?" 

"You went running off, and I couldn't find you for 

three days," he said angrily. "Do you think I enjoyed 

tramping all over this jerkwater place? I used up a 

hell of a lot of goodwill trying to figure out where 

they took you. Not to mention the energy." 

"Thanks," I said. 

"Thanks? Thanks. She said, 'Thanks.' Is that it?" 

He was beginning to annoy me. I was searching 

the ground trying to see if they'd left anything behind 

for me to go on. And all he was doing was 

blathering away. 

"Yes, thanks for coming after me. What do you 

want. Harlequin?" 

Página 48


"Perhaps some gratitude," he said. "I've been all 

over Connaught looking for you. It's taken a hell of 

a lot of casting to locate you." 

"I hope you're up to some more," I said. 

"Why?" A suspicious look crossed his face. 

"Because the only way I know now to reach the 

Court is by calling up the Hunt." 

He looked a little pale. I was glad to see he still 

had some respect for the old ways. 

"The Chasse Artu?" 

"Yes," I said, feeling a little happier at the 

thought. "The Wild Hunt. It's been so long since 

I've called one, let alone two. We really must make 

preparations." 

"Are you mad? You can't possibly call up the 

Hunt yourself," he said. There was a frightened look 

88 


in his eye. "It would take more power than you or I 

possess, even combined, not to mention the time involved." 

I smiled. "Of course I can't call up the entire Hunt 

myself. No one could. But I can bring up the steeds. 

Come along. I'll sleep while you drive. By the way, 

where are we?" 

89 

There is a barren plain. No grass grows here. No 

tree mars the vastness of land. Only the long unbroken 

earth stretching out beneath the sickly yellow 

sky. 

A moon hangs large and low. It casts a green glow 

and turns her skin the color of illness. 

Of death. 

12 

When I woke, it was getting near dark. The sun 

rested low on the horizon, showing its face for the 

first time since we'd come to the Tir. Caimbeui had 

turned the vid to some music station as he drove. 

The vid flickered and changed, turning his pale face 

a rainbow of colors. 

It took me a moment to orient myself. I felt 

groggy and irritated at the sensation. My scalp 

itched and my eyes felt gritty. A few hours of sleep 

to make up for the three days I'd missed weren't 

enough. 

"Where are we?" I asked. 

"Just south of Galway City," he replied. 

Página 49


"Has it changed much?" I asked. 

"Has what changed?" 

"Galway City." 

90 


"Compared to what?" 

"Compared to what it was before the Awakening." 

"A bit," he said. "The old ways have taken hold 

pretty firmly there." 

I pulled my bag out from under the front seat and 

began rummaging through it. Gum wrappers, cigarettes, 

shoelaces—then I found it: a small tin whistle. 

It rode on a thin copper necklace that I slipped 

over my head and nestled down between my breasts. 

I looked out at the passing countryside. 

It had gone wild here. No fences marked property 

lines. The roads were mostly unpaved, little more 

than dirt ruts. It reminded me of a time long ago, 

long before this world. Back when another world 

was young. No, it was me who was young then. 

I remembered what happened in that place so long 

ago. How could I ever forget? And now it seemed 

that the mistakes of the past would be repeated. This 

world would be torn apart unless I stopped them. 

Unless I stopped him. 

Just as the sun was setting, I saw the place. Stone 

tombs silhouetted against the red sky. 

"Pull over here," I said. 

Caimbeui slowed the car. 

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I can't feel anything 

..." 

"It'll do. This place is lousy with caims. The 

whole area is Awakened." 

A blast of cool air hit me when I opened the car 

door. The magic was heavy here. It made the hair on 

the back of my neck stand on end. Then I noticed a 

strange feeling I hadn't had in a time out of mind: 

91 


excitement. Things couldn't be worse, yet I felt alive 

for the first time in years. Had the centuries finally 

worn me down? I knew they had for some of the 

others. Some until they resorted to terrible means to 

stop the emptiness. 

'But I had a reason to live. I knew my purpose. It 

was a sacred task. To keep the world safe. To protect 

Página 50


it. To protect the people in it. Or so I'd told myself. 

As I started for the tombs, Caimbeui grabbed my 

arm. 

"Are you certain this is the only way?" he asked. 

I turned and looked at him. In the flat red twilight 

his face looked like the very vision of Lucifer. A 

dark, yet beautiful, angel. 

"Why, Caimbeui, I almost think you care," I said. 

He frowned. "Don't be flip," he said. "If Ysrthgrathe 

has found you . . . how can you be safe?" 

I reached up and touched his face. I can't describe 

how it felt, only that it felt like him. Like Caimbeui. 

My flesh remembered his as surely as it might remember 

the smoothness of velvet or the scratch of 

sandpaper. 

"Nothing is safe anymore," I replied. "Besides, 

I've been alive for so long, it might be good to rest. 

Don't you ever want to just ... stop?" 

"No," he said. An angry look crossed his face, 

and he pulled away from me. "It's always better to 

be alive. Life is better than death." 

I wanted to stay and argue with him, but there was 

no time. It almost made me laugh. After so many 

years, to have no time. 

Instead, I turned and began walking to the caims. 

92 


The sun had disappeared and the sky was fading 

from scarlet into plum. The wind had died down, 

and the air was still. No birds sang. No leaves rustled. 

No animal noises carried to me. 

Once I reached the cairns, I turned to see if Caimbeui 

had followed me. He was a shadow against the 

fading light. I held my hands out to him and, after a 

moment, he took them. Though I didn't need him to 

call up the Hunt, I wanted him to be there with me. 

I closed my eyes and relaxed. In my youth, I had 

learned magic as part of the fabric of life. I saw it 

not as a force to be manipulated, but as integral to 

life itself. A thread broken here could cause something 

there to unravel. Pulling threads together could 

create something where there had been nothing. 

But the mages today saw magic as something else. 

Their way of seeing the world was strange and alien 

to me. I objected to any kind of cybernetic enhancement. 

Machines can't create. They can only do what 

they're told. 

As I began to chant the words to the spell, I 

opened my eyes. The moon was dark and the stars 

had yet to appear. I couldn't see Caimbeul's face, 

but could just make out the shape of him before me. 

Página 51


My eyes adjusted, and gradually I could see 

again. The granite of the cairns glowed ghostly pale. 

Caimbeul's face looked as though it floated in the 

air, unattached to his body. He joined me in saying 

the words to the spell. It was a strange duet, our 

words conjuring up the Hunt. I blew the whistle, 

and it made no sound that either I or anyone else in 

this world could hear. 

93 


At first there was nothing but our voices breaking 

the silence. Then the wind began. It howled across 

the open fields and whistled through the tombs. 

Caimbeul's hair was pulled free of his ponytail and 

whipped across his face. The ground began to tremble. 

The magic flowed through me. Into me. It filled 

me and shook me. My muscles screamed with the 

agony of trying to hold this power. To mold it to my 

will. Sweat broke out across my face. It ran down 

my back and streamed over my breasts. 

It was terrible, this force. This chaos and madness 

which threatened to engulf me. It wracked my muscles. 

I felt as though it would rip me apart. Tear 

from me my soul. That it would allow the insanity 

of the past to come and claim me again. 

In the distance I could hear the thundering of 

hooves. I raised my voice, barely able to hear myself. 

Barely able to force the words from my throat. 

Caimbeul's words were snatched away by the wind 

as he uttered them. 

The magic trembled in me, flew around me, 

pulled at the world and drew things from me. Terrible 

things. Apparitions from the past. Nightmares 

from the future. We stood there, trembling, and 

chanted the old words. Words of power. Until our 

voices grew hoarse and our throats were raw and our 

legs would barely support us. 

At last we stopped. 

Abruptly, the air was still and silent. 

I released Caimbeul's hand and turned. 

94 


Below us, at the base of the hill where the cairns 

stood, was what we'd called. 

They looked up at us expectantly. Their eyes reflected 

red iridescence. Black coats melted into 

black night. 

In the distance, I heard the howling of the hounds 

and wolves. The gabriel ratchets. Their cries were 

lonely, as though they realized that they'd been 

abandoned by the steeds which led them. At their 

head was a tall, cloaked form. Though I knew that 

this was the apparition who tended the beasts, its ap- 

Página 52


pearance was so close to Ysrthgrathe's that, for a 

moment, I thought my enemy had come for me. 

A long, bony arm appeared from the depths of the 

apparition's cloak. It beckoned us. I glanced for a 

moment at Caimbeul. His lips were set in a hard 

line. 

"You don't have to come," I said. 

"What?" he replied. "And miss all the fun?" 

At the bottom of the hill we were gestured to two 

horses. These were the horses of the ancient Tuatha 

de Danaan. Created from fire, not earth, and able to 

live for hundreds of years. I had not ridden one in a 

thousand years. 

As we tried to mount the horses, they began to 

dance away and reached back every now and again 

to nip us with their long, yellow teeth. I grabbed a 

handful of long mane to help pull myself up. I hoped 

I would have enough strength left in me for the ride 

I knew was ahead. 

95 


There was no noise as we mounted. No rattle of 

harnesses. No sound at all. I turned to the master of 

the horses, who stood looking at me. "To the Seelie 

Court," I shouted over the din. The apparition nodded. 

Just then, I had a strange tingling sensation, as if 

someone unseen was watching me. I looked around, 

and there, in the distance, atop one of the far hills, 

were the hounds, stags and wolves. They swirled together, 

writhing like a thousand snakes, and disappeared 

from my sight. I shuddered at their terrible 

power. 

The horses lunged forward, jerking us in our 

seats. From then on we were no longer in control. 

As if we ever truly had been. 

We thundered down bare fields and into muddy 

flats. Fences were hurdled without a falter. Streams 

and meadows slipped away. Sparks flew as hooves 

struck rocky expanses. Lather foamed up on the 

horses, but they never slowed. My cheeks became 

chilled and chapped; my hands ached from holding 

onto the reins. Tears streamed from my eyes. 

We overtook cars on the road, causing accidents. 

Still we did not slow. 

Then we were at the shore. We pounded across the 

sand, plumes of it spraying into the air. Then into 

the tide, never slowing as we rode up and over the 

water. Galloping across the top of the ocean as 

though it were a puddle. 

Across the water I saw a misty turquoise glow. As 

we came closer, I saw that there was an island sur- 

96 

Página 53



rounded by this light. In moments we were on the 

beach thundering across the sand. 

This was not one of the Aran Islands, for we had 

passed those as we sped across the bay. This was 

one of the isles of fable. From legends I had helped 

create and had forgotten in the long expanse of time. 

This place must be Hy-Breasail, the island believed 

to rise from the sea only once every seven 

years. I barely had time to realize this before the 

Horses surged across the beach and went crashing 

into the forest. 

A path opened up before us. Whether it was there 

to begin with or the Horses created it as they went, 

I cannot say. The trail began to climb upward. We 

plunged on through the forest, shattering the silence 

with our passing, At last we burst forth into a great 

open plain and stopped. 

Though it was autumn in Tir na n6g, here spring 

held sway. I could smell it in the air, could feel the 

warm and gentle caress of the breeze. It was balm to 

my sore, chapped face. 

I looked about and saw a castle perched on a cliff 

above us. So much a part of the island it was that 

there was no telling where the castle began and the 

rock it sat upon ended. As I watched, lights appeared 

on the pathway below the castle. They bobbed and 

floated downward toward us. 

Closer and closer they came, and we waited for 

them, silent and patient. 

At last they appeared on the edge of the clearing, 

riming it in gold and silver light. 

Such a congregation of the Sleagh Maith. It al- 

97 


most made me forget my own mission, so good was 

it to gaze upon them again. The sprites and spriggans, 

brownies and hags, boogies, leprechauns, 

gnomes, and goblins all clustered around, throwing 

their crooked shadows against the rocky cliff behind 

them. 

I could hear their shrill cries and nasty whispers. 

They knew who I was even if there were those who 

would have it otherwise. There was but a moment 

for these impressions. They parted and a procession 

of elves appeared. Each was dressed in tight-fitting 

dun-colored leather garments. Some bad tattoos 

marking their arms and faces. Others had datajacks 

glistening in shaved skulls. I ignored them as they 

surrounded us. 

I glanced over at Caimbeul. He was a bit paler 

than normal, but after the night we'd had so far, that 

was to be expected. He looked up at me and gave a 

little smile. I found myself smiling back, oddly 

Página 54


happy at that moment. 

"This is hardly a laughing matter," came a voice 

from beyond the edge of the faerie light. All the 

elves and faeries bowed down immediately. I 

squinted into the darkness. A ghost-like form moved 

forward. As it stepped into the ring of light, I saw 

that it was a woman. She was dressed in a white 

flowing gown. Her fiery hair was pulled back severely 

from her face, but left to cascade down her 

back almost to her heels. The brilliant blue eyes 

were unchanged. The skin as pale and white as milk. 

Alachia. 

98 


Silence stretched out between us. I hadn't seen 

her in the flesh since 1941. 

"So," she said at last. "You've come. And the 

hard way, too." 

"Well, we can't all have the prerogatives of age. I 

wish to speak to Lady Brane Deign," I said. "She 

rules here now." 

Alachia smiled. It was chilling. 

"Power is a fluid thing," she said. "You'd do well 

to remember that." 

Once that sort of remark from her would have 

frightened me. But that was far in the past. Now 

there was a larger threat at work. Not just to me, but 

to the survival of the world. And then, I was older 

now, too. 

"Perhaps you should mind your own advice," I 

said. "You've let so much pass through your own 

hands." 

"Caimbeul," she said brightly, ignoring my last 

remark. "How good it is to see you again. But really, 

you need to improve your choice of companions. 

You know what they say about the company you 

keep." 

She slipped past me and took his arm, leading him 

away from me toward the castle. 

"Do come, Aina," she called over her shoulder. 

"We mustn't keep Lady Brane waiting." 

I watched her lead him into the night until all I 

saw was the white blur of her dress. 

99 

She opens her eyes. The world is upside-down. 

No, it's her perspective that's off. But isn't that always 

the way of it? 

Sitting up, she sees that she's been lying on the 

ground. The fall leaves covering her rustle and slide 

away, revealing her naked body. How she came to be 

Página 55


here in this wood she doesn't remember. But she 

thinks she should know. 

Then comes the pain. 

It burns and stings like a thousand hornets. Her 

skin is on fire and she cannot stop it. As she looks 

on, small, round welts appear on her flesh. Sharp 

points burst through the welts, puckering the skin. 

Thorns. 

13 

No mortal being could have traversed the path to | 

Lady Brane Deigh's castle. But then, it wasn't de- | 

signed for mortals. The Sleagh Meath loved any- | 

thing that might confuse or baffle mortals and so If 

took great delight in the corkscrew turns, disappearing 

paths, and other annoying tricks to fool the unwary 

traveler. 

But I had seen all these games before. The Seelie 

Court was but another incarnation of something 

100 


much older and more sinister. How many of them remembered, 

or even knew, the full story? 

Politics was a tricky business, and I'd done my 

best to stay out of it for most of my life. But now it 

seemed I had no choice. I was the only one who appeared 

to be willing to take the chance. No, I was 

the only one willing to see the threat of the Enemy 

for what it was—the ruination of the world. 

I had to grasp hold of this thought because all my 

old fears came back to me in this place. Once I foolishly 

thought that power would protect me from 

harm. How I discovered the error of that belief is another 

tale. 

For now, I kept up with Alachia's lead. She glided 

over the rocks as though they weren't there. Each 

turn was taken with a casual nonchalance, and all 

the while I could hear her keeping up a steady banter 

with Caimbeul. 

I knew their history was a long one, and I wondered 

if she knew how much my life had been entwined 

with his. And how far back it extended. Part 

of me hoped she didn't know, relishing the secret. 

And a part wanted her to know. Wanted her to know 

that even when she wielded so much power that 

most of my people trembled before her, I had won a 

small victory over her. 

But there was no more time to wonder over such 

childish things—we had reached the gate of the castle. 

Alachia waved and the gates swung silently inward. 

The courtyard was bathed in the light from 

thousands of floating will-o'-the-wisps. They flut- 

101 

Página 56



tered around us, rising and falling with the breeze. It 

was like walking through a rain of stars. 

Then we were moving up the wide, white, marble 

steps leading to the great doors. Made of oak and 

tall as a two-story house, they were banded in brass 

in deference to the faerie hatred of iron. As the 

doors opened, a radiance spilled forth. I stepped into 

the brilliance. 

The great hall of the castle dwarfed any I had seen 

before or since. This was no mean feat given what 

I've seen in my time. I could feel the magical energies 

flowing through this place. The magic to pull 

Hy-Breasail from the sea, to create this castle upon 

it, to gather the members of faerie who still remained 

here on Earth, and to pull back those who 

had left for other planes. An impressive feat indeed. 

At the far end of the hall, I saw a group of elves. 

Alachia moved toward them with her usual singlemindedness. 

As she approached, the group parted 

and allowed her to pass. I squeezed in just as they 

closed ranks again. 

Standing at the center of all this attention was a 

tall elf wearing a black leather breast plate over a 

long white dress. Her fine hair was bobbed off short, 

one side shorn away so short I could see the fragile 

shape of her skull beneath. Her skin was the color of 

amber and I saw that her eyes were blue, transparent 

and glittering as ice. Though she was only as tall as 

Alachia, there emanated from her a power that I 

found compelling. The same sort of power that 

Alachia had once wielded so many lives ago. 

102 


She glanced at Alachia, then at Caimbeui, and finally, 

at me. 

"Lady Brane, may I present Aina Sluage," said 

Caimbeui. Alachia shot him a hateful look, but 

didn't say anything. 

I stepped forward, but didn't bow. Though I knew 

she was made as I, she was only a child compared to 

me. Just as I was a child compared to Alachia. And 

even if she did hold sway over this court, she did so 

at the sufferance of myself and the other Elders. So, 

instead of bowing, I offered her my hand. For a moment, 

I thought she might not take it, but then her 

smooth, cool hand was in mine. I felt an odd shock, 

and then our eyes met. 

Yes, she was fit to rule, I saw. Though I had abstained 

from participating in the new politics between 

the Tirs, I was glad to know that there was 

someone strong enough to deal with whatever was to 

come. The only question was: Could I convince her 

that the threat was real? 

"I have heard your name," Lady Brane said. Her 

voice was sweet as summer wine. "When I was 

younger I almost thought you were a ghost, invented 

Página 57


to scare children." 

So that was to be the way of it. Well, I'd handled 

worse in my time,. 

She released my hand, then beckoned me to her 

side as she turned to leave the group. I heard the 

murmuring of the others as we passed, but I ignored 

it. Alachia's face was even paler than normal and I 

saw her eyes narrow as we passed. Good, I thought. 

Let her worry a bit. I suspected the nature of the 

103 


poison she had managed to spread about me while I 

was gone worrying about more important matters. 

"You've created quite a stir," she said. "Calling 

up the Hunt's horses. A most impressive feat. And, 

from what I understand, only you and Harlequin 

were present." 

"That is correct," I said. "There are those of us 

... who are of an age ... who have found such 

things to be ... within our grasp." I looked around 

for Caimbeui, surprised to see him hanging back. It 

was so unlike him. 

She stared ahead, leading me toward the back of 

the hall. I caught the scent of her perfume. A complex 

scent: grasses, sandalwood, and a few other 

notes of which I couldn't be certain. Elusive. 

"And why did you call the Chasse Artu?" she 

asked. 

"I have been away a long time," I said. "I needed 

to find the Court." 

"Yes," she replied. "I thought as much. No other 

way would have found us so quickly. We have been 

careful for a while now. But you come to us with the 

toss of a spell so powerful it would take half my 

court to cast it. I see some of what I've heard is 

true." 

We had come to the back half of the hall. A great 

feast was laid out. Row after row of tables were covered 

with white linen, fine gold eating utensils, and 

bone china. Garlands of flowers were swagged onto 

the tablecloths. Most of the tables were filled with 

members of the Sleagh Meath and Awakened elves. 

104 


Invisible hands served and took away platters of 

food and jugs of wine. 

Lady Brane led me to a raised table in the center 

of all the others. She took a seat and motioned me to 

take mine next to her. As I sat down, I noticed 

Caimbeui finding a place down at Alachia's end of 

the table and I wondered how best to approach the 

reason for my visit. I didn't know precisely what lies 

Alachia had spread about me. My cup was filled 

Página 58


with wine, and food appeared on my plate. I didn't 

eat. Couldn't. 

Lady Brane, however, was having no such problems. 

She drank heavily from her cup and tucked 

away the feast like she'd been starving for a year. 

All this was done with a grace and delicacy that 

made it look like the most delightful thing I'd ever 

witnessed. 

"You aren't eating," she said with a little frown. 

"Is the food not to your liking?" 

I pushed a pea with my fork and shook my head. 

"No, thank you. I'm not hungry. Lady Brane," I 

said. "I am not a threat to the Seelie Court, nor to 

you." 

She turned and looked at me, her expression unreadable. 

"And what makes you think I find you threatening?" 

she asked. 

"I just assumed that you had been told . . . 

things," I said. Good, Aina, I thought, stick your 

foot in it right off. 

She picked up a pear and bit into it. I could smell 

the sweet aroma of it. It took her a few moments to 

105 


finish off the pear. Daintily, she dabbed at her mouth 

with a napkin before speaking again. 

"Yes," she said. "I have heard stories. From several 

sources. You have not endeared yourself to 

many of the Elders. But there are other, more powerful, 

voices who seem to value you. So, I decided 

I should see for myself what sort of creature you 

are." 

"What sort of creature?" I said. "That hardly 

sounds impartial. Unlike Alachia, the politics of men 

have little interest for me. But your court deals with 

matters that do concern me. Magic and mysticism 

have long been intertwined for our people." 

She shrugged. "Perhaps some of what I've heard 

does concern me," she said. "I am proud of being an 

elf and I am proud of our Tir. It has come to my attention 

that you have chosen others over your own 

kind in past disputes." 

Alachia's fine Italian hand at work, no doubt. 

"Yes," I said. "There was a time when I had to 

make that painful choice. But there were reasons for 

my choice and I was not the only one who made that 

decision. I, too, am proud of my people. But we are 

not perfect, nor are we always right. I am not blindly 

devoted to every act. And those matters have no 

bearing on the dangers before us now." 

Lady Brane took a sip from her glass, then swirled 

the contents around as she stared into them. 

Página 59


"Yes," she said at last. "These dangers. How is it 

you know of them and the rest of us do not? Are you 

so special? So powerful?" 

Yes, I wanted to say. Yes, / am special. I haven't 

106 


forgotten why I am here. I haven't forgotten the past. 

If that makes me special, then so be it. As for power, 

how could I have survived for almost eight thousand 

years without it? But of course I said none of this. 

She would discover in her own time what a curse 

immortality was. 

"Perhaps it would be easier if we were to discuss 

this in a less public place," I said. "There are some 

things that should only be spoken of in private." 

"You're right," she said. "I was hoping only to 

come to a quick resolution of this matter." 

"That is my most fervent wish," I said. 

"Very well," she said. "Come with me. You, Harlequin, 

Alachia, and I will discuss this matter." 

I rose, and without even a backward glance at 

Caimbeui, I followed her from the hall. It had been 

a long time since I'd had to call upon the good 

graces of my fellow elves. I suspected the reception 

to what I was about to say would be chilly indeed. 

107 

She opens her eyes. Darkness suffocates her, 

pushing against her like an old lover. Putting her 

hands up, she feels the smoothness of satin. She 

pushes, but there is resistance. A hardness under the 

soft fabric. 

A spell. There is light. 

This is no kaer. This is a coffin. 

And she's been buried alive in it. 

14 

Lady Brane motioned for me to sit. The room was 

an odd mixture of magic, antiques, and hardware. 

Though I dislike the technology that Caimbeui so 

adores, even I was impressed with the array of 

hyper-edged toys. Any shadowrunner would have 

been drooling at the chance to get his hands on Lady 

Deigh's high-tech toys. 

I didn't sit. Instead I wandered about the room, 

looking at the collection of elven artifacts. Encased 

in a glass box was a long silver sword whose hasp 

was plated in gold and set with cabochon emeralds 

and rubies. So, this was where the Sword of Nuadha 

had finally come to rest. I thought it had been lost 

long ago. 

Next to it was a plain cup roughly carved from 

Página 60

108 



hom. It should have seemed prosaic, sitting there 

next to the glory of the sword, but it was the other 

way round. The Sword of Nuadha seemed coarse 

and obvious. 

I'd just stepped over to a lovely painting of 

Caimbeui in some costume I didn't recognize when 

he and Alachia came into the room. Lady Brane 

smiled at her and she smiled back. My heart sank 

when I saw this. Already I was at a disadvantage. I 

could only hope that Caimbeui would provide a 

strong argument for my position. 

"Now that we're all here," began Lady Brane. 

"Shouldn't we start?" 

"You are the only Elders?" I asked, more than a 

little shocked. 

"No, of course not," said Lady Brane. "But the 

others have agreed to let me handle this situation as 

I see fit. They have deferred to Lady Alachia and 

me." 

I glanced over at Caimbeui, who kept his face 

blank. And I wondered if he knew this would be the 

situation going in. 

"Very well," I said. "It's really quite simple. The 

Horrors have returned." 

Alachia let out a silvery laugh that I just knew 

would enchant any man who heard it and which set 

my teeth on edge. 

"You are still so melodramatic, Aina," she said. 

"Good heavens. It is far too early for them to have 

returned." 

When I answered and my voice was calm, it sur- 

109 


prised me. For as long as I could remember, Alachia 

had the power to anger me with her flip comments. 

"I realize that you are far older than I," I said. 

"But my experience with what you so blithely refer 

to as the Enemy is hardly inconsiderable. Even you 

would have to admit that." 

She gave a small nod of her head, the best acknowledgment 

I could hope for. 

"Caimbeui came to me the other day and told me 

of his recent experience with them." 

Alachia and Lady Brane looked at him expectantly, 

and he preened a bit under the attention. 

Página 61


What an ego. But he did manage to tell them about 

Thayla and the bridge from the astral planes and 

how he had stopped them. 

"Well," said Alachia. "There you have it. 

Thayla's there protected by one of those hirelings, 

and we're all quite safe." 

"Are you completely mad?" I asked, losing my 

temper at last. "Hasn't anything he's said sunk in? 

Oh, I expected him to be full of beer and sausages. 

He's always had this messiah complex, but you 

know better. If they don't get through that way, 

they'll find another. They're coming back now because 

they can. Look at what happened in Maui." 

And then it dawned on me. I almost hit myself for 

being such a fool. Of course, she knew the dangers. 

But she didn't care. I thought back over our history 

together and realized that Alachia had been at her 

most powerful during the times when we faced the 

Enemy. Her dark knowledge had been as much a 

bane as help. But it hadn't mattered because we 

110 


would do anything to survive. And I knew what she 

wanted was for that time to come again. She was 

tired of waiting. 

But perhaps I could reach Lady Brane. 

"Lady Brane," I began, "I know you have heard 

terrible stories about me. Some are even true. But 

that isn't what is important here. What is important 

is that I'm telling the truth. I know better than most 

the evil these creatures will unleash should they 

come through before we are prepared. They will lay 

waste the world and everything in it. And this time 

we aren't prepared to stop them. We haven't the 

power." 

"You seem powerful enough," said Lady Brane. 

"You call down the Hunt, or part of it, at least. You 

live beyond the rule of either Tir. You consort with 

the Great Worms as though you were one of them 

instead of one of us." 

"Now, now," said Alachia. "Let's be fair. Aina 

has always been very forthright about what she believes 

in. She has never challenged the authority of 

the Tirs. Nor has she sought temporal power for herself. 

I prefer to think that she has been terribly misled 

and will someday see her error and come back to 

us." 

I looked at Caimbeui, trying hard riot to lose what 

little I'd had to eat in the last few days. The expression 

on his face was shocked, then suspicious. Yet, still he 

didn't speak up. What was wrong with him? 

"Alachia is right, of course," said Lady Brane. 

"What other proof do you have that the Enemy is 

near?" 

Ill 

Página 62



"Dreams," I said, hoping she would understand 

the importance of this. "And the certain knowledge 

that one of the most powerful of them is already 

among us." 

"And where is this dread creature?" asked 

Alachia. 

"I know not," I said. "Only that he is here now. 

He has contacted me." 

"And why would it bother to come for you?" 

"Because," I said. "It knows me. I am the one it 

wants." 

"And you are so special?" 

"Yes," I said. "You should remember. It was the 

monster who marked me so many millennia ago." 

I thought I saw Alachia go a little paler. Lady 

Brane seemed a bit confused, and I suspected there 

was much that Alachia had left out of her history 

lessons. 

"How do you know for certain that it is this one?" 

Alachia asked. "This could be the work of another 

Elder. You have your enemies, my dear." 

My eyes narrowed. "I know of no enemy of mine 

who would use such matters for the Game. That 

would be a gross breach of etiquette. No, it is he." 

"But what would you have us do about it?" 

Alachia asked. "It seems that this is really your 

problem." 

"Now, perhaps," I said. "But it means they can 

get through. We are not safe any more. We must prepare 

for them, and also curtail our use of magic." 

Lady Brane came out of her chair. "Stop using 

magic? Now I think you are the one who is mad," 

112 


she said. "I hardly think one of these creatures is a 

serious enough threat to us. You are terribly powerful. 

Why don't you just kill it?" 

"I've tried," I said bleakly. "I thought I had rid 

the world of him long ago. But I was mistaken. That 

is why it is vital for us to put a stop to them now— 

before they get a better foothold in the world." 

"How are you going to stop everyone from using 

magic?" asked Lady Brane. 

"It isn't small magics that are the danger. It's the 

great acts that draw them. The Great Ghost Dance. 

The Veil, I'm certain, is creating a pull. While it will 

protect you from them, it will also bring them like 

carrion to a carcass." 

Página 63


"Not a very appetizing thought," muttered 

Alachia. 

"You know what a danger they are," I said. "Why 

haven't you told her?" 

"I have told her. But I've also told her we dealt 

successfully with them before." 

Caimbeui and I both laughed—harsh and sarcastic. 

"Did Alachia tell you what was done to survive?" 

I asked Lady Brane. 

"Not yet," Alachia said coldly. "What difference 

does it make now? We survived." 

"Do you thi'nk Aithne would agree with you?" I 

asked. 

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. But he would no doubt 

agree with me long before he would agree with 

you." 

I turned away and walked to a small tray set up in 

113 


one comer of the room. Bottles filled with amber, 

gold, and red liquid glowed softly. I picked one at 

random and splashed a healthy amount into one of 

the cut crystal glasses. It bumed going down. Irish 

whiskey. 

"I have a proposal," said Lady Brane. "Though I 

am inclined with Alachia to think you are overestimating 

the threat of this creature, I do not wish to 

completely disregard your warning. You are, after 

all, one of the Elders. And you have not meddled in 

our affairs unnecessarily. 

"So I suggest that you go to Tir Tairngire. Though 

we are at cross-purposes with them in many things, 

this matter could certainly constitute a danger that 

concerns the entire elven nation. If you can convince 

the Elders there that the threat is real, then I shall 

lend you any support you might need." 

A politician's answer, but better than none. Or an 

unequivocal "no." 

"Thank you, Lady Brane," I said. "I see the Tir 

chose well in you." 

A little flattery never hurt. 

"Yes," said Alachia. "I knew you would do the 

right thing. And Aina, do say hello to Aithne 

Oakforest for me." 

114 

The sky is blue as a robin's egg. Blue as only a 

summer's day can be. Blue as the eyes of her child. 

Where is her child? He should be here. No, that 

Página 64


was long ago. He's dead now. 

Then why does she hear his voice? 

Momma, she hears. Momma, where are you? 

Here I am. 

Then she sees him. The rotting corpse shuffling to 

her with outstretched arms. And she runs to embrace 

him. 

15 

"Well, that went pretty well, I thought," said 

Caimbeul. 

We were sitting in the Dublin International Airport 

waiting for our flight to Tir Tairngire. Well, we 

weren't going directly to the Tir. I wanted to stop 

over in Austin and take care of a few things there 

first. Rubbing my eyes, I tried not to snap at him. 

How he could have thought things were going well 

was beyond me. 

Oh, we were certainly given the royal treatment. 

But underneath I could feel the tension. The hostility. 

Things were changing and the Seelie Court knew 

115 


it. They just didn't want to face what was happening. 

And he'd said barely a word the whole time. 

But isn't that always the way of it? We hate 

change. Consider it the enemy. Yet it is the one constant 

in our lives. 

I pushed an impatient hand through my hair, 

which had grown out just enough to be a nuisance. 

Sticking out every which way. Even in these dire 

times, I was vain enough to be concerned about my 

appearance. Or maybe it came from spending so 

much time alone with Caimbeul. 

Had it really been almost two hundred years since 

we'd been together? I wondered at the thought that 

time could slip away so quickly. Why didn't I do 

something to stop it? I shook my head. 

Stop what? Stop us from hurting each other? Stop 

us from being who we were? 

"Something wrong?" Caimbeul asked. 

"No," I replied. "Nothing much. I was just... remembering." 

His eyes were bright and curious. Oh, Caimbeul, 

you wicked creature to make me remember such 

things. 

"Paris?" he asked. "That cafe on the Rue Saint- 

Jacques ... what was it called?" 

"Well, Monsieur Rimbaud called it 'L'Academic 

d'Abomphe.' But I can't remember what it was re- 

Página 65

ally called." 


He laughed. "I almost had a heart attack when I 

saw you there. You were wearing the most peculiar 

outfit . . ." 

"It wasn't peculiar. It was the height of fashion. 

116 


Besides, I had to keep people more concerned with 

my dress than my nature. Unlike you, it hasn't always 

been easy for me to pass through human society. 

The color of my skin made it difficult at best. 

And my hair ... I guess those are things people 

might remember." 

"I remember," he said. His voice was soft, and 

suddenly it was as if we were all alone. That was a 

gift of his, making you feel as though you were the 

only person in the world. "The dress you wore was 

gray silk, shot through with jet beading. You had a 

hat on which had an enormous feather on it. Ostrich. 

Or was it peacock?" 

"Peacock," I said softly. 

"And you were drinking absinthe. I remember it 

looked as though you were embracing a lover when 

you drank." 

I shut my eyes ... 

The first clear day of April. Paris, 1854. I sat in a 

cafe on the Rue Saint-Jacques. At the time, I didn't 

know its name. After a while, I wouldn't care. I had 

found something powerful enough to distract me 

from the horrors of living: absinthe. 

My own sweet mistress. My dearest friend. The 

green fairy in the bottle who would steal a little bit 

of my mind every day. And how I adored it. 

The rituals I'd built up. First, a stop at the bank 

where my pounds would be converted into francs. 

Then on to the small bakery for a pastry before I 

went to my first real appointment of the day. I told 

myself that as long as I ate something before I drank 

117 


I was fine. Hence the obligatory croissant, most of 

which I threw away on my way to meet my little 

friend. 

That's what I called it: ma petite amie. Perhaps I 

should have said mon amour, for that was indeed 

what it had become: my dearest friend, my closest 

confidant, my love. And, just like all lovers, we had 

our rituals. 

There were a number of cafes that sold absinthe, 

and I was well-known at all of them. In the spring 

and summer, I would settle myself at one of the 

outer tables. To take the air, of course. The air was 

very important—far more healthy than the smoky at- 

Página 66


mosphere indoors. In the winter, well, I just endured 

the smoke and noise. The things you will go through 

for a loved one. 

After I sat at a table, a waiter would come over 

with the jade bottle, a water jug, and a glass. He 

would line them up neatly in front of me, then fill 

the glass with water. I tipped generously, and they 

knew what I wanted. 

From inside my reticule, I would pull my silver 

absinthe spoon. It was slotted and diamond-shaped, 

intricately carved with flowers and scrolls. The 

spoon was placed over the glass. Plucking a sugar 

cube from the jar on the table, I would place it 

neatly atop the spoon. 

Next came the moment I liked the best. First, I 

uncorked the bottle. The aroma of the absinthe 

floated to me. Licorice-scented and bitter. 

Then I slowly poured the absinthe over the sugar. 

It dripped through the spoon into the water, swirling 

118 


the color of new leaves, turning the water cloudy 

like a stormy day. The sugar cube sometimes 

wouldn't completely dissolve, and I would take it 

into my mouth, sucking my first bit of ecstasy from 

it. 

When it crumbled into nothing, I would take the 

spoon from the glass, then slowly lift the glass to my 

lips. What wonders will it show me this day? I would 

think. What sweet remembrances from the past 

would come to me? What memories would be created 

to fill my mind and keep me from the truth? 

And as I felt the warmth rush through my veins— 

sliding into my mind, seducing my thoughts—I 

would smile. Sometimes men would come to me and 

tell me how beautiful my smile was. So I would 

smile at them until they became nervous and went 

away. 

And so, on that clear spring morning in April, 

when I saw Caimbeui for the first time in many a 

century, I thought, at first, that he was a product of 

my imagination. That I had conjured him up from 

the pretty places I went in my mind. 

"Hello, Aina," he said. 

I smiled. He smiled back. I didn't say anything; 

neither did he. 

He didn't go away. 

"I suppose it really is you," I said at last. 

"I'm wounded," he said as he touched his chest 

over his heart. "Have you forgotten me so easily?" 

I poured more water into my glass and put the 

spoon on top. 

Página 67

Sugar cube. 

119 


Absinthe. 


"No," I replied. "Not so easily. Would you care 

for some?" 

He took his pocket watch out of his waistcoat and 

opened it with a little click. 

"Isn't it a bit early for this sort of thing?" he 

asked. "I hadn't figured you for the type." 

The sugar cube crumbled in my mouth. My 

tongue was already numb and felt a bit grainy. Wonderful 

numbness. 

"What type is that?" I asked. "The type that indulges 

in pleasure? Think of it, Caimbeul. All the 

years and years stretching ahead of us. All the ones 

behind. And it doesn't mean anything. Nothing we 

do matters. It all keeps happening again and again. 

I've spent plenty of time worrying about what has 

happened. And far too much concerned with what 

will happen. So, now, I don't care. 

"This"—I raised my glass—"gives me a brief 

taste of happiness. I have had far too little of that." 

Silently, I toasted him, then drank. Ah, nectar. I 

was borne up by angels into clouds of gossamer and 

silk. 

He said nothing then. Just sat down there with me 

as I drank, then walked me home as the sun sank full 

and red into the gray twilight. 

Every day he came and sat with me as I drank. 

Sometimes, I would go to a different cafe, but he always 

managed to find me. 

One day I woke and discovered that I no longer 

wanted to go to the cafes. Caimbeul's presence had 

muddied the pleasure of the absinthe for me. I hated 

120 


him for it. I dressed hurriedly, rushing out without 

my hat. 

He was waiting for me at the cafe on the Rue 

Saint-Jacques. 

"I hate you," I said. 

"I know." 

"You've ruined everything." 

"Perhaps." 

I stood there, frustrated, not knowing what else to 

Página 68

say. 


"Would you like to go for a walk?" he asked. 

I narrowed my eyes. "Why?" 

"Because it's a beautiful day," he replied. "And 

I'd like you to come with me." 

I saw the waiter coming toward the table with the 

absinthe and water. My hands started shaking and I 

felt my mouth go dry. Caimbeul and I didn't say 

anything as the waiter put them on the table and left. 

"Well," he said. "Are you coming?" 

I looked at the absinthe. Ma petite amie. My life, 

Just one more, I thought. 

I could feel my mouth pucker, anticipating the 

bite of the sugar, the anise bitterness of the absinthe. 

Caimbeul held his hand out to me. Slowly, very 

slowly, I took it. 

"Why did you stay?" I asked Caimbeul. 

"When?" 

"When you found me in Paris at that cafe. You 

could have left. It might have been better if you had. 

It was certainly out of character." 

He looked out at the drizzling rain. The sky was 

121 


overcast and made the greens outside brilliant and a 

little surreal. 

"I suppose it was the shock of seeing you there. 

You looked so ... human. It surprised me. I had always 

thought of you as indestructable. No matter 

what knocked you down, you just kept getting back 

up. But there, in that place, you weren't ever going 

to get up again. I just couldn't stand to see the waste 

of it all." 

The light from the fluorescents gave his skin a 

corpse-like pallor. It seemed almost incomprehensible 

to me that I had once held him in my arms. I felt 

like that had happened to a different person. A different 

Aina. 

"Did I ever thank you?" I asked. 

He turned toward me and smiled. The smile was 

crooked and made his face look lopsided. And I 

found it utterly endearing. 

"Yes," he said. "You did." 

"Good," I said. 

And we sat there wrapped in our memories until 

Página 69


the announcement came for our flight. 

122 

You have been hiding from me, Aina. 

You must know there is nowhere you can run 

where I cannot find you. 

No place that will afford you sanctuary. 

I am coming. 

Coming soon. 

16 

The international flight was cramped and exhausting. 

I jerked awake from another dream about Ysrthgrathe. 

He was in my mind again. Invading my 

thoughts and dreams just like he had all those years 

ago. It made me feel unclean. Like something slimy 

had crawled across my skin. 

Caimbeui was asleep next to me. He snored a little 

and I gave him a bit of a push to make him stop. 

I wanted to wake him and tell him about my dream, 

but I didn't. I had learned long ago that it was better 

not to involve anyone else in matters concerning 

Ysrthgrathe. - 

Outside it was dark. I found flying to be strange, 

as though I were suspended in time and space. Another 

manifestation of my distrust of technology. 

Perhaps all this metal and cold, analytical thought 

reminded me too much of the Therans. The result of 

123 


their devotion to purity had ruined so many. Like the 

Huns, they thought nothing of conquering and laying 

waste to any and all who opposed them. And like the 

Romans, they swallowed whole civilizations and digested 

them into unrecognizable pieces. They so believed 

in their own purity that they sacrificed the 

world. 

But all of that time was gone. I had to stop letting 

it pull me into the past. What was important now 

was the future. I had to save it. 

We landed in the Atlanta airport and made our 

connecting flight to Austin without any real delays. 

Oh, there's always some sort of drek that pops up 

when you enter the Confederated American States, 

but I still had a few connections of my own. A few 

hours later, we were catching a cab from Robert 

Mueller Airport to my sometime-residence in the 

western hills of Austin. 

"I don't remember this place," said Caimbeul. 

He walked about the room pulling dust covers off 

the furniture and sneezing as dust flew up his nose. 

The house smelled stale and I was opening windows. 

The clean, sweet scent of fall floated into the 

room. It was warm here, even in late October. I like 

that about Austin. 

"I didn't come by it until nineteen thirty-four," I 

Página 70


said. "As I recall, you were out of the picture by, oh, 

about fifty years." 

"We did fall out of touch," he said. "I'm sorry 

about that." 

124 


"I'm not," I said. "We had said so many things by 

then. Things neither of us could take back. No, it 

was better that we got away from one another." 

He opened the French doors leading to the balcony 

that wrapped around the front of the house 

overlooking the beginning of the Hill Country. Cedar 

and mesquite trees grew low and crippled by the 

fierce summers. It was as close to an alien landscape 

as I could imagine. Even now, when technology 

tried to cover every centimeter of earth, I believed 

that this land would reclaim itself if given half a 

chance. 

"I like it here," he said. "It reminds me of another 

place—before ..." 

"Before the Enemy came," I finished. "Yes, it 

doesn't look the same, but it feels the same. Wild 

and untamed. There used to be more development 

here, but since the Awakening, it has gone back 

somewhat. 

"After the Great Ghost Dance, the water spirits 

inhabiting the Barton Creek Watershed rose up and 

drowned a number of developers. They were having 

some kind of big ground-breaking on yet another big 

project. Apparently, the water spirits didn't like the 

idea, because they carried off the great-greatgrandson 

of Jim Bob Moffett and several of his 

banker friends. 

"There hasn't been much development since then, 

and the people who were living in property that 

was polluting the creek found themselves being 

tormented by water spirits. Most of them have 

left." 

125 


"Why are you still here?" Caimbeui asked. 

"Professional courtesy." 

We'd stopped for groceries on the way in, and after 

a quick meal of eggs and soylinks, we retired 

back to the balcony. Luckily, my freezer was still 

working and I had a supply of unground coffee 

beans laid in. We watched the brilliant red sun go 

down while sipping Kona blue and cognac. 

"Why are we here?" Caimbeui asked. I had been 

waiting for him to get around to it, but I was surprised 

it took him so long. Perhaps he had gained 

some patience over the years. 

"I wanted to get in touch with Thais," I said. 

Página 71


"When last we spoke, he was in this area." 

"Thais?" 

"My child." 

After I left Europe and Caimbeul's warm embrace, 

I came to America. I was achingly lonely for 

him, a fact that, in retrospect, seems rather foolish 

and trivial. But there it was. The rumors of the Great 

Ghost Dance had brought me here, or so I told myself. 

What I was really about was trying to forget 

Caimbeui and make something new out of my life. 

I took a westbound train from New York to Saint 

Louis. Then I caught a stage to Sioux Falls. I knew 

Wovoka (he also used the Anglo name Jack Wilson, 

I recall) had convinced the Sioux that they had to 

use the great ritual magics to rid themselves of the 

whites and bring down retribution on their heads. 

He was right, of course, but wrong about the time. 

126 


The world wouldn't have enough magical energy in 

it for another hundred and thirty years. 

But what concerned me was the news of his "visions." 

He claimed that God was sending him messages. 

I suspected there was another explanation, 

one I hated to consider: Thais. 

I thought I'd stopped this passion of Thais's for 

popping up and causing mystical visions in magicalthinking 

cultures, but he was at it again. As I rode 

on the stage, my spine feeling as though it were being 

pounded through the ill-sprung seat and dust and 

dirt settling into everything I owned, I hoped I was 

early enough to put a stop to things before they blew 

out of hand. 

By the time I reached Batesland, news was already 

making its way east about the massacre at 

Wounded Knee. I was too late. 

It didn't stop me from looking for Thais. I knew 

I needed to rein him in again. How I hated the 

thought of another confrontation with him. 

"I was wondering when you would come." 

Thais. 

He was hidden in the shadows of a low-hanging 

outcropping of rock. I wanted to see him, but, as if 

he knew that was my wish, he remained back in the 

darkness. 

The wasted scenery of the Badlands spread out 

around me. It reminded me too much of how the 

world was after the Scourge. And to see Thais here, 

in this ruined place made me sad and angry at the 

same time. I'd told Thais that the world was not the 

127 


Página 72


one he had grown accustomed to. That he must learn 

to change—but he refused. 

My child. 

Even after all these many centuries, I still worried 

about him. Wanted to know that he was safe. Would 

he ever forgive me for bringing him into a world 

that would never understand him? 

"Hello, Thais," I said. "I see you've been busy." 

Thais shrugged and looked a bit bewildered. "I 

don't understand," he said. "The magic should have 

worked." A frown crossed his face and I wanted to 

hold him and comfort him, but I knew that would 

not be allowed. It frightened me sometimes, how 

much he grew like his father. 

"Magic isn't as powerful now," I said. "You know 

that. Why did you lead them to this destruction?" 

"They loved me," Thais said. "It was just like in 

the old days. They looked at me and they didn't see 

a monster—they saw me. I was trying to help them. 

All they wanted was to have their land back. I could 

give that to them." He looked mournful. It made my 

heart ache. "I should have been able to give them 

that." 

"Once," I said, "you might have. But no more. 

Those days are gone. Thais, you must stop this. I 

know what you've been doing. Those stone heads 

they dug up in the bed of the Trinity River. From the 

Pleistocene. I heard them described as obviously not 

human. My god, Thais, it was you. How could you 

have let them see you revealed? 

"And what about Indochina? At least you tried to 

disguise your shape, but a seven-headed snake god? 

128 


I've told you that we aren't to interfere. There's too 

much at risk. What if they'd discovered what you really 

are? They might have killed you." 

"I'm as hard to kill as my parents," he said, bitterly. 

"I am what you've made me. There is no place 

in this or any other world where I may live peacefully. 

Why did you make me?" 

I looked away. Thais was right, of course. He 

never should have been born. But I was mad at the 

time. Out of my mind with remorse and grief. Selfish 

Aina. 

"You must not do this again," I said. "It will only 

end in ruin. If not for you, then for your followers. 

Even now, when the magic is at a low ebb, you still, 

by your nature, have some power. Why don't you 

use it responsibly?" 

"Oh, that's rich," he said, laughing harshly. Even 

so, it made me want to hold him and gaze into his 

eyes. Such power in my child. "You—talking about 

Página 73


responsibility. You don't have the right." 

"Mark my words, Thais. These tragedies will continue 

if you don't do something about it." 

"What would you have me do. Mother? Exile myself 

to some mountaintop the way you did? Hide 

myself and live in isolation until the world is something 

else again? I need them and they need me. You 

cannot imagine how I feel when they look at me and 

love me. When they fall to their knees and beg for 

my blessing and I give it to them. I was born to be 

a god. To be adored and worshipped. You can't take 

that away from me." 

129 


"I'm not trying to take anything away from 

you ..." 

"You took my father away." 

"Don't be a fool, Thais," I said. "That was an accident 

of birth." 

He shrugged and looked away. I knew there was 

no use discussing this further. Thais had shut off 

from me, and nothing I could do or say would make 

any difference. How I wished that things could be 

different between us, but I knew I could as much 

wish for the moon for all the good it would do me. 

And so we stood there, in that bare and barren 

place, divided by worlds and walls and the past that 

could never be undone. 

130 

She floats in a warm embrace. Hands touch her. 

Stroke her. Caress her until she trembles. Opening 

her eyes, she sees a faceless man. This doesn't 

frighten her—it's what she wants. To fall into the 

comfort of anonymity. 

Safe and nameless. 

17 

"How are you going to contact Thais?" Caimbeui 

asked. 

"A summoning," I said. "His nature is such that 

he won't be able to resist. I wish it hadn't come to 

this, but we haven't spoken in so many years. Since 

that terrible time after Wounded Knee." 

"Why didn't you just call him up while we were 

in Tfr na n6g?" 

"Too many enemies there," I said. "And Alachia 

doesn't know about Thais. At least not as far 

as I know.'I would keep it that way. There are 

some things she should never know. And I want 

Página 74


him to be on my ground. Not his; not someone 

else's." 

A wave of exhaustion swept over me. Suddenly, I 

wanted nothing more than to go and sleep for the 

131 


rest of my natural life. But I didn't have that choice. 

There was too much at stake. 

I got up and walked back into the house. 

Caimbeui drew the drapes as I turned off all but 

one light. Though it made little difference to my 

casting, I preferred less light. That way I could concentrate 

on what was happening with the spell rather 

than my surroundings. 

"This would be a lot simpler if you let me help," 

said Caimbeui. 

The edges of the room faded back into shadows. 

The few pieces of furniture still covered in sheets 

looked ghostly against the far walls. The night 

noises were muffled by the drapes. Occasionally, I 

could still hear the drone of a low-flying Lone Star 

Security chopper. 

"Are you ready?" I asked. I wasn't sure which of 

us I was asking. 

Caimbeui nodded and stepped back into the shadows. 

I knew if anything untoward happened, he 

would take care of me. 

Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I let 

myself relax and block everything out but the spell 

I was about to perform. 

I saw Thais in my mind. As he was when he was 

born, then later when I finally met him again. Grown 

up and changed into something so like me, and so 

like his father, that I wept until he made me stop 

with his voice and eyes. 

That was Thais's gift, after all. 

As I pictured him in my mind, I let myself slip 

132 


into astral space. There was the usual nauseating tug 

as 1 slipped between the veils. The ribbons flowed 

around me and into me until I couldn't tell the difference 

between them and myself. I was filled with 

the power. Exhilarating and fierce. This was what 

I was bom to. I never doubted myself here. Here I 

knew who and what I was. 

The veils parted as I remembered my task. I 

reached out my will, calling Thais to me. Commanding 

him to come to my summons. 

Time passed interminably slow. Then sped to 

light. 

Página 75


I float then fall. 

The universe is around me. Inside me. I am the 

universe: waiting and watching. 

Across worlds I come. Through the blazing heat 

of a thousand suns. From the Void. Into the darkness. 

From the darkness, I pull light. 

My child. 

Some things you cannot resist. The bond between 

a mother and child. 

The brilliance of Thais blinds me as I pull him 

closer and closer. 

Come to me, child. 

And he cannot refuse. 

Then we are falling. Falling through space and 

time. Back to earth. 

"What do you want?" 

Thais was standing in the center of the room. A 

133 


circle of blue energy surrounded him. I waved it 

away and he relaxed visibly. 

"Was that really necessary?" he asked. 

"Would you have come if I asked?" 

He shook his head. "You abandoned me long ago. 

Why should I do you any favors now?" 

I had hoped that old hurt had passed. But no, I 

was not to be forgiven any of my sins. Thais was 

still a child in so many ways. I had protected him 

too well. 

"Very well, Thais, consider it a demand then," I 

said wearily. "I haven't the energy to fight with you 

about this now. There are other, more important, 

matters at hand." 

Thais slid along the floor and pulled himself up 

onto the couch with his powerful arms. His thick, 

snake-like tail wrapped around his torso once, then 

hung down off the edge of his seat onto the floor. 

"What does the Great and Powerful Aina want of 

me today? Perhaps I should go to the Wicked Witch 

of the West and retrieve her broom. Maybe I'll 

throw water on her and watch as she melts into 

brown sugar. Or there is always popping down a rabbit 

hole . . . Which will it be?" 

"Mind your manners, junior," said Caimbeul. 

"That's your mother you're addressing." 

Página 76


Both Thais and I turned toward him, openmouthed. 

He shrugged. 

"I think you've coddled him, Aina," said 

Caimbeul. "You've always protected him from ... 

the world." 

"Coddled?" Thais said. "You call being bom a 

134 


monster coddled? Look at me. Why did she make 

me? It was her selfishness ..." 

"Oh, grow up," snapped Caimbeul. "This isn't 

about you. ..." 

"Thank you," I interjected. "But why don't you 

let me get on with it?" 

"Very well, but—" 

I held my hand up and Caimbeul fell silent. A 

tight expression set on his face and I knew he was 

angry. It made me feel very warm inside. 

I turned to Thais. 

"Ysrthgrathe is back," I said. 

Thais didn't say anything. 

"Has he contacted you?" I asked. 

"Why would I tell you if he had?" he asked. 

"Thais, he's a liar. He spreads his misery that 

way. I know you want to believe . . . only the best." 

"You don't know what I want," Thais said. "Why 

should I trust you more than him?" 

"You know what he is," I said. "I've never kept 

that from you. There is more at stake here than your 

grudge against me. If he is back, then the world is at 

risk." 

Thais rolled his eyes. 

"It's always so dramatic with you, Mother," he 

said. His voice was that of a smirky, sarcastic 

fifteen-year-old. "How is it that you're always on 

hand to save the country, the planet, the universe? 

Don't you ever get tired?" 

"Yes, Thais, I get very tired. I am intensely weary 

right now." 

His tail twitched and tapped against the floor. The 

135 


scales that covered his skin were iridescent and 

gleamed in the low light. I wondered what happened 

when he had to shed his skin. So many little details 

about his life I didn't know. 

Página 77


"Very well," Thais said. "I'll tell you. He is here, 

on this plane. He contacted me a few days ago. But 

he didn't come to me in person—I had a dream. It 

was so vivid, unlike any other dream I've ever had. 

"He explained ... everything. He told me why 

you hated him. Told me the truth." 

Caimbeui made an ugly noise and I looked over at 

him. A frown pulled at his mouth and he gave me a 

Why-the-frag-don't-you-just-shut-the-littlewackweed-up? 

look. I doubted he'd ever had children. 

I couldn't expect him to understand. 

Thais had uncoiled himself from the couch and 

was slithering along the floor to the doors leading 

outside. 

"Where are you going?" I asked. 

"Outside for some fresh air," he replied. 

I followed him. The temperature had dropped 

more than I expected. I rubbed my arms as gooseflesh 

broke out. We stayed there for a long time, 

wrapped in night sounds. 

"Thais," I said at last. "I know I've been a disappointment 

to you. All those years apart, then later, 

when things turned bad for all of us. But ..." 

"Shut up," he said, turning violently toward me. 

"Just stop talking. How do you think I felt when he 

came to me? How could I deny him? You've cursed 

me with him." 

He began to weep then. Terrible wracking sobs 

136 


that shook his frame. I wanted to go and embrace 

him, but I was afraid to. Afraid that he would reject 

me again. Oh, what agony it was to hear him in pain. 

I wondered how Caimbeui could resist the sound of 

it, for it tore me inside. Like I'd swallowed glass. 

I forced myself to wait and watch until his tears 

began to dry and he seemed more in control of himself. 

"Thais," I said. "I am so sorry. I never wanted 

you to have to face this. I tried to protect you." 

"I know," he said. His voice was shaky and rough. 

"But you haven't been very good at that. Have 

you?" 

And how could I answer that? But I suspect he 

didn't mean me to. 

I don't know how long we stood there in the chilling 

night air. The stars frosted the sky in diamondhard 

brightness. Then, later, I noticed that the black 

Página 78


sky was turning purple-gray. 

"What did he say?" I asked at last. I felt drained 

and exhausted. So empty that it didn't matter what 

he told me. 

"He said you would come for me. He told me that 

you would try to stop him and it would do you no 

good." Thais's voice sounded weary. I wondered 

how I could help him, but then I realized there was 

nothing I could do for him now. That there are some 

things a parent cannot do for her child. 

"Did he tell you if there were any other of the Enemy 

here?" I asked. 

"No," Thais said. "But I didn't sense any others. 

I have always been sensitive to that sort of thing. 

137 


Your friend," he said, giving a jerk of his head toward 

the house. "He managed to stop something 

from happening a while ago. But the world has more 

than one point of entry. They are there waiting. 

Waiting for the moment when they can return." 

"Did he say anything else?" I asked. "Anything at 

all might be important." 

"Only that he's been waiting for you to come to 

him." 

The sky was light now, moon hanging low against 

the horizon, looking strange and out of place so near 

the sunrise. We stood there in silence as the night 

fled from the day. 

138 

Aina sits before an old woman who has black 

witchy-hair and who wears gypsy colors. The air 

here is thick with incense and patchouli. 

"Cut the cards," the woman says. Aina does so, 

feeling the coolness of the deck beneath her fingers. 

The reading begins. 

The cards lie face down—hidden and hiding their 

meanings. The first is turned up. The old woman 

gasps. 

The Devil. 

In a moment, he's crossed by the Moon and 

crowned by the Tower. 

Aina shoves away from the table, unwilling to see 

what comes next. 

"But you don't know how it ends, " the old woman 

says. 

"Why should I want to know?" Aina says. "After 

all, they're nothing but a pack of cards." 

Página 79

18 


"You must send me back," Thais said. 

We'd returned to the darkened interior of my living 

room shortly after sunrise. Thais was not fond of 

the light. He said it was too cruel. 

139 


"Why don't you stay here with me?" I asked. 

Caimbeui gave me a sharp look, which I ignored. 

"I cannot," Thais said. "And you know why. But 

there is something I will tell you. Ysrthgrathe is not 

the only one of the Enemy here. There is another, 

just as subtle and as deadly." 

"But where . . . how ..." 

"Deal with Ysrthgrathe first," Thais said. 

I tried to get him to tell me more, but he refused. 

Finally, I had no other choice than to send him back. 

The house seemed empty after Thais was gone. How 

I wanted to spend time with him. Get to know him. 

Figure out his peculiarities. But I had denied myself 

that long ago. And there was no going into the past to 

fix things. 

We closed up the house again. Sheets covered the 

furniture. The alarms were set. I didn't look back as 

we drove away. 

140 

PART II 

Millions long for immortality who do not know 

what to do with themselves on 

a rainy Sunday afternoon. 

—Susan Ertz 

She sleeps. And dreams. Safe happy dreams of 

times never lived and not imagined. They comfort 

her and calm her until she sinks. Sinks down into the 

long black darkness of her night. 

19 

Once, a human discovered what I was. 

Like most curious men, he thought that the knowledge 

would gain him something. As though knowledge 

is a safe thing. Inert and powerless on its own. 

It was 1998. 

Fin de siecle fever was at an all-time high. There 

were riots and hysterical sightings of UFOs, messiahs, 

and dead celebrities. I'd bought my home in 

Scotland a few years earlier for an obscenely cheap 

price. An earldom, no less. Imagine, me a countess. 

It was to laugh. 

Página 80


I had settled into a smaller house on this property. 

The castle held no interest for me, being large and 

'hard to maintain. I'd acquired quite a large fortune 

over my many eons. I could afford to take the, uh, 

long view on investments. There are some uses to 

being immortal—even if they're only financial. 

It was from this vantage point that I was watching 

everything happening around me with great interest. 

143 


The signs were beginning. I knew it wouldn't be 

long before the magic returned. 

So I began to gather together the things I would 

need to be prepared. For many centuries I'd hidden 

artifacts away, waiting for this time. It was on one 

such trip that I noticed him, 

I'd just arrived from Scotland. The United States 

was still whole back then. The turmoil that would 

rip it apart was years away. Though I had spent 

many years in America over the last two centuries, 

I tried to stay away from the politics of the place. 

They seemed entirely too messy to me. But that's always 

been the nature of freedom. 

As I ran to catch my connecting flight to New Orleans, 

I saw him. He was leaning against one of the 

pillars that lined the concourse in O'Hare. He wore 

a black T-shirt and faded blue jeans. A scuffed duffel 

bag lay at his feet like a lazy dog. 

There was a look of intense concentration on his 

face, as though he were looking not at how I appeared, 

but at what was inside me. I didn't like it. 

This was before the Awakening, and there was no 

way he could know what I really was for I'd found 

ways to disguise my true form. Oh, I appeared human, 

for the most part. My features were more delicate, 

perhaps, than most. And I was very thin. But 

my skin was as black as it ever was, and my hair 

was dark then, too. Some of the developments in the 

twenty-first century weren't all bad. I'd seen that 

blondes really don't have more fun, and I found that 

auburn really didn't suit me. 

As I passed, the light reflected off his glasses, ob- 

144 


scuring his eyes from me. I noticed that he had 

straw-colored hair sprinkled with a little gray. His 

beard was clipped neat and close, giving him an almost 

scholarly look. But then I could see his eyes 

again and once more I had the sensation of being 

looked through. 

Frowning, I turned and hurried on down the corridor. 

I wouldn't have given him another thought, except 

that he boarded my plane not more than fifteen 

minutes later. 

Página 81


He was the last passenger on, probably flying 

stand-by. But why was he on this flight? And why 

had he been standing there in the corridor, as though 

he were waiting for me? 

But he passed by me, not even making eye contact. 

What an imagination I had, I thought. The idea 

that he was following me. It was nothing. A chance 

meeting of the eyes, nothing more. 

Despite the air conditioning, the air was hot and 

soupy. The smell of beignets hit me as I walked 

through the airport. One of the charms of the New 

Orleans airport was the immediate realization that 

this place was like none other in the United States. 

That Puritan priggishness was utterly cast aside here. 

Maybe it was the weather, or perhaps the strong 

hold the French had placed upon the place centuries 

before, but here there was no hand-wringing over 

drinking, or gambling, or eating. In short, it was 

heaven, of a sort. 

I caught a cab to the Fairmont Hotel, a gorgeous 

place with nine-meter-high ceilings in the foyer, 

145 


crystal chandeliers, thick rugs, and the almost physical 

sensation of decadence. They also made the 

most fabulous pecan pie there. A southern confection 

that I've never liked anywhere else. 

As the elevator was closing to take me up to my 

room, I thought I caught a glimpse of Black T-shirt 

through the milling hotel guests, but I knew it must 

be my imagination. 

The French Quarter was a five-minute walk from 

the hotel. New York was the only other place in 

America where history butts up so closely with the 

present. I went down Chartres Street, then cut over 

to Royal. The heavy smell of the olive trees in 

bloom sweetened the air and almost masked the odor 

of the river. 

Lined in antique shops and small art houses, 

Royal was my favorite street in the Vieux Carre. 

Bourbon may have been more famous, but the smell 

of vomit every few steps always put me off. There 

were some beautiful homes at the eastern end of 

Bourbon, but they hardly made up for the foul 

smells and lingering air of dissipation. 

I slipped into one of the antique galleries: de 

Pouilly's. Over the years I'd made friends with the 

owners of many of these stores. They knew me as 

selective and willing to pay well for what I wanted. 

In return, I expected them to keep quiet about my | 

visits and to let me ... wander ... in their shops. | 

The whole Quarter was rabbit-warrened. You might | 

enter an unpretentious storefront, only to discover a | 

maze of rooms that led you through any number of 

146 


Página 82


connected buildings. I doubt there was anyone who 

knew all the twists and turns in these places. 

A middle-aged man approached me as I entered. 

He gave off the superior air of someone who just 

knew I wasn't the sort who could afford to buy here. 

"May I help you?" he asked in a tone that let 

me know in no uncertain terms that he thought he 

couldn't. 

I picked up a bronze piece (not a very good reproduction 

at that) and turned it over as though considering. 

"Tell Mr. Hyslop that Ms. Sluage is here," I said. 

I began fingering a porcelain bowl that looked to be 

an original Meissen. The clerk was obviously torn 

between telling me not to touch the pretties and trying 

to decide if I was, indeed, on speaking terms 

with his employer. Fear won out over officiousness, 

and he scuttled off like a cockroach. 

A few minutes later (I was by now poking around 

in a large, intricately appointed armoire looking for 

secret doors), Mr. Hyslop appeared with the now 

very sweaty clerk in tow. 

"Ms. Sluage," Mr. Hyslop said as he held out his 

hand. "It's so good to see you again. I trust you've 

been able to amuse yourself?" 

As I backed out of the armoire and gave a little 

sneeze, Mr. Hyslop produced a handkerchief like a 

magician performing a trick. 

"Bless you," he said as he pushed it into my hand. 

'I always get the sneezes when I start looking into 

these old pieces. No matter how hard we try to keep 

up, they seem to bring the dust with them." 

147 


"That's quite all right," I said, taking the proffered 

hanky. "I was just investigating to see if I 

might want this piece." 

"Take your time, take your time," Hyslop said as 

he waved his clerk away. The clerk slunk off to go 

harass a couple who'd just stepped inside from the 

sweltering October air. 

"What I'd like to do is take a look at those items 

you've been keeping for me, and make some arrangements 

for their transport." 

Hyslop looked a bit concerned. "Are you not satisfied 

with our arrangement?" he asked. "I thought 

that—" 

"No, no," I said, cutting him off. "It's nothing like 

that. I've just finally settled down in one place and 

I'd like to spend some time enjoying the things I've 

bought." 

"Of course," he replied. "How foolish of me. 

Please, this way." 

Página 83


I followed him through the shop into a series of 

dimly lit twisting and turning hallways. Then up 

three flights of narrow stairs painted over so many 

times there were lumpy bumps like Braille on the 

railing and walls. It was very quiet here. You 

couldn't hear any of the usual street noise that bubbled 

through the Quarter day and night. He led me 

into his office, then fumbled around with his keys 

until he had the right one. 

"Here we are," Hyslop said proudly as he flipped 

on the light switch. 

The closet was small, but crammed to the top with 

arcana. Shelf after shelf with boxes labeled in a code 

148 


we'd designed. One shelf held only boxes of books. 

Another, rare pottery. On yet another, articles of 

clothing. All had special significance. All were precious 

only to those who knew what to look for. 

I could feel the pull of the energy in that little 

closet. 

"I doubt anyone has a better collection of oddities," 

Hyslop said. "I just recently added this." He 

pulled a small box from one of the shelves and 

opened it. Inside was a long white veil, the kind 

women wore for their weddings and first communions. 

"It is rumored to have belonged to Marie 

Laveau's daughter." 

"I didn't know she had one," I said. "A daughter, 

that is." 

Hyslop nodded vigorously. "She kept her hidden 

away. She was afraid that when she died, the whites 

might kill her to keep the Voodoo under control." 

"More than likely to keep the people under control," 

I said. 

"That too, no doubt," Hyslop agreed. 

"I'd like to look through these," I said, motioning 

to the closet. 

"Of course," Hyslop said as he wiped his forehead 

with another clean white handkerchief. I wondered if 

he had a pocketful of them, magically pristine and 

freshly laundered. 

"Alone," I said in a firm but kind voice. After all, 

I would need Hyslop and his unusual connections 

for some time to come. 

"Of course," Hyslop said as he pocketed his handkerchief. 

"Just let me know when you're finished." 

149 


Página 84


I smiled at him then, and he gave me a surprised 

smile back. I suppose I don't do that often. Smile, 

that is. 

It took me the better part of the afternoon to go 

through the boxes. Most of the items were shams. 

The bones of some shamanistic practitioner, purported 

to have special curative powers. Shrunken 

heads, embalmed monkey remains, fossilized eggs. 

Books supposedly written in Crowley's own hand 

detailing his cabalistic findings. 

I'd taken care to hide my most precious finds 

among these harmless trifles. They would be overlooked 

with all the other folderol. One hopelessly 

obscure book of cabalistic writings revealed complexities 

of such an esoteric nature that even I had 

trouble following it. The challenge of it excited me. 

There were other items as well: suspicious bones, 

the source of which I knew only too well. How had 

they come to this place again? And so obviously 

long ago. 

There was also a small painting depicting a creature 

I knew for a fact had not walked the face of this 

planet for at least seven thousand years. Yet here it 

was depicted in a piece that could not have been 

more than fifty years old. 

I wrapped my treasures carefully and returned 

them to their innocuous hiding places. 

I felt grimy and hungry all at once. It was almost 

five by Hyslop's grandfather clock. I pulled the 

chain to the light, then shut the closet door. It had an 

150 


automatic lock, but I still jiggled the doorknob to 

see if it would open. It didn't. 

On the whole, things were going well. I would 

have Hyslop crate everything up and ship it to my 

estate in Scotland. I'd already made the necessary 

arrangements with Customs^ so there would be little 

delay in my receiving them once I was back home. 

I felt quite smug and pleased with myself and decided 

that I needed a decadent dinner to celebrate. I 

picked up the phone on Hyslop's desk and made a 

reservation for one at Antoine's for eight o'clock. I 

would feast tonight. 

Walking back to the Fairmont, I noticed a van 

parked on a comer of one of the side streets I passed. 

It was painted dull black and had reflector stick-on 

numbers on the back window: 666. I glanced inside 

the van as I passed. A man, about forty-five or -six 

with a scraggly beard, sat in the passenger-side seat. 

He had a large potbelly barely covered by a fadedgray 

T-shirt. Around his neck he wore a pentagram. I 

had obviously just seen—Satan's Van. 

Uh oh, I thought. I better watch out because 

someone is going to come and carry me off in . .. 

Satan's Van. The Armageddon starts tonight be- 

Página 85


cause—Satan's Van is in town. Oh, you better watch 

out, you better not cry, 'cause Satan's got his Van tonight. 

Satan's Van is coming to town. 

I really needed dinner. 

Antoine's was unchanged. I'd been coming there 

for years whenever I was in New Orleans. I knew it 

151 


was a bit touristy, but I couldn't help myself. They 

had the most marvelous Baked Alaska. 

The elderly maitre d' seated me at a small table in 

the front room. Like the rest of the buildings in the 

Quarter, Antoine's was made up of many rooms. 

People came through the front doors and disappeared 

like they were going down Alice's rabbit 

hole. There was even a hidden door or two in the 

place. 

I'd just ordered and was admiring myself in 

the mirror over my table when I saw him. The black 

T-shirt from the airport. Only he wasn't wearing a 

black T-shirt now. He never would have been allowed 

inside in that. He wore a black jacket over a 

white shirt and muddy green tie. The jeans had been 

set aside for dark trousers. 

I didn't take my eyes away from his image in the 

mirror as he talked to the mattre d' for a moment, 

then walked toward me. I couldn't believe his brass. 

"Dinner for one?" he asked. "That seems a lonely 

proposition." 

"I like it," I said as I turned toward him. "And 

who the hell are you?" 

"Ah," he said. "Well that's not as interesting as« 

who the hell you are." i 

"Look," I said, beginning to get impatient. "I 

don't know anything about you except that I saw 

you at O'Hare—and now you pop up here acting as 

though you know me. I don't like mysteries or people 

who think they're being clever when in fact^ 

they're just annoying." | 

He pulled out a chair and sat down opposite me. | 

152 


"You haven't been invited," I said, frowning. "Go 

away." 

"Now, now," he said. His voice had the faint 

twinge of British lower-class to it. "Someone your 

age shouldn't get so excited. It might not be good 

for your health." 

I looked around for the mattre d', but he was talk- 

Página 86


ing to a new group who'd just arrived. 

"I must say, you look awfully good for someone 

who's at least five hundred years old by my calculations." 

He had my attention. 

I looked at him carefully. He was working far too 

hard at being nonchalant. There was a telltale shine 

to his upper lip, and I could hear the dry click of his 

throat as he swallowed. Whatever he knew, it wasn't 

as much as he wanted to let on. 

The waiter came with my soup. Vichyssoise. 

Thick and heavy with cream. He looked inquiringly 

at my new companion. 

"Be so kind as to bring my friend here the same," 

I said. The waiter nodded and went away. 

"What's that?" Black T-shirt asked. 

"Vichyssoise," I replied. 

He looked blank. 

"Cold potato soup," I said. 

He wrinkled his nose. 

"Beggars can't be choosers and neither can you." 

I leaned back and studied him. This seemed to make 

him preening and nervous at the same time. "What's 

your name?" 

"John Mortimer." 

153 


"And what precisely is it you want of me, Mr. 

Mortimer?" 

He leaned forward, I resisted the urge to do so 

also. Habits die hard. 

"I want to know the secret," he said. "I want to 

know how to be immortal." 

"What on earth makes you think I'm immortal?". 

I asked. J 

He got a big grin. It was toothy and surprisingly 1| 

sweet. I almost liked him for that smile. | 

"It started out by accident about four years ago," 

he began. "I was doing some research after reading] 

an article in the newspaper." He pulled a small, yellowed 

newspaper clipping from his pocket. The 

headline read: Mystery Buyer Purchases Earldom for 

$700,000. I glanced over the article. It pretty much 

gave the dry facts of my acquisition of the Earldom 

of Arran. Everything except my identity, which I'd 

had them keep quiet. 

"What has this to do with me?" I asked, handin| 

Página 87


the clipping back. 

"You bought it," he said. 

"And what makes you think that?" 

"I like computers," he said. "I'm quite good wit 

them. Every aspect. Programming, hardware—yc 

name it. It's just this knack I have. Well, for son 

reason this article caught my attention. So I got c 

the Web and started trying to find out what I couM 

about this mystery buyer. But pretty much every-1 

thing after you bought the place was under deep| 

wraps. Oh, I know all about the history of the place| 

That earldom was created in 1503 by King James IV| 

154 


The title is linked to the land instead of by blood. 

All that stuff. History is easy enough to find out. 

"But about the new buyer—bloody nothing. That 

got me curious. Who would want so much privacy 

and why? So I started contacting other Net surfers in 

Scotland and eventually I came up with a few who 

knew all about the island. They were day workers 

hired to refurbish the house the new owner would be 

occupying. 

"That's when I found out about you. It was quite 

a stir you being, well, not white. I even got along so 

well with my Scottish connection that they invited 

me for a visit. You were off on one of your mysterious 

trips. Everyone who worked for you always 

talked about your trips. 

"So I went to visit my friends, and they showed 

me around the castle and the grounds. You've done 

a wonderful job keeping up the place. By the way." 

I snorted and went back to eating my soup. The 

waiter came and placed a bowl in front of him. He 

frowned slightly at it, then took up his spoon and 

gave the soup a small taste. Apparently it was to his 

liking, for I got no more of his tale until he had finished 

the whole bowl. 

"I never would have thought cold potato soup 

could taste so good," he said as he wiped his mouth. 

"The things you leam every day," I murmured. 

"So, as my hosts were showing me around, I began 

to notice a couple of things. There was all this 

°ld stuff around, but not all of it seemed to belong 

Asre, if you know what I mean. Not the usual rich 

155 


collections of plates, clocks, and the like. No, your 

choices were so much more—peculiar. 

"But the thing that got me most excited was this 

picture of you. A painting, I mean. Paul—that's the 

friend who I was staying with—had gone off to the 

bathroom and he left me alone in your study. There 

Página 88


was a photo of you and some guy on your desk. 

Then noticed a stack of paintings against one wall. I 

flipped through them and came across this portrait. 

"It was you. But it wasn't. I mean you looked just 

like you do now, only you were wearing some weird 

costume. Later, I learned it probably came from the 

Renaissance. I heard my friend in the hall and put 

the painting back. But, you know, that painting 

stayed with me." 

"People have portraits done everyday," I said. 

"But this one looked like hundreds of years old. 

The paint was dried and cracked. It felt old." 

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, I didn't realize that among 

your many talents you are also an art historian. Let 

me see, you're a crack computer wiz, a clever defrauder 

of people's trust, and now you're an expert in 

dating paintings. What other talents do you have up 

your sleeve?" I asked. 

His face flushed red, but he didn't answer me. The 

waiter came and took our dishes, then presented us 

with the pate. I broke off a bit of the French bread 

on the table and proceeded to smear a generous 

amount of my pate on it. I gestured to him to do 

likewise. 

"Really," I said. "You must try your pate. It's 

marvelous." 

156 


"What is it?" he asked. 

"Goose liver, butter, cognac, pepper, and cream, 

most likely," I said. "Do go on with your tale. It's so 

unusual to have such a fascinating dinner story." 

He poked at the pate as if it would leap off the 

plate and attack him. Then he put the knife down. 

No guts, no glory. 

"But see, the painting reminded me of another one 

I'd seen, in some class I'd had in school. So after I 

went to the library and started looking through 

books of artists ..." 

"Was this while you were still in Scotland?" I 

asked. 

"Yes," he replied. "I was staying for a couple of 

weeks. Paul was glad to get me out of the house every 

now and again so he could have his girlfriend 

over. They were wanting to ... well, you know." 

"How touching." 

"Anyway, I found the book I was looking for. It 

was on Rembrandt. It had all his paintings in it with 

little descriptions of what they were about and who 

owned them. But most of them are in museums. Except 

the one you have. 

Página 89


"But you obviously had all this money so I figured 

you could buy a Rembrandt if you wanted, but 

you couldn't have a portrait of yourself by him unless 

you'd'been there." 

"I hate to interrupt your psychotic ramblings," I 

said. "But haven't you ever heard of copycat painters?" 

"Yeah, I heard about them when I was doing my 

research on you, but from what I came up with, that 

157 


wasn't your style. You go for top-notch stuff if you 

bother with it at all." 

"How flattering." 

"Look, just stop trying to play like you don't 

know what I'm talking about. I've done research on 

you for the last four years. I know you've taken the 

identities of a number of other people. Graves are 

full of. the babies whose names you've used. You've 

passed yourself off as your own granddaughter, as 

missing cousins. You're very good, I'll grant you 

that. But I have the documentation to back up everything 

I've found." 

He pulled an envelope from his inside pocket and 

dropped it on the table. A sick feeling nestled in my 

stomach. 

"Go ahead," he said. "Look inside." 

Slowly, I wiped my fingers on my napkin. Moving 

slowly seemed to be a very good idea at the moment. 

I pulled the envelope to me and slid the 

contents out. There were letters from registry offices 

in several countries, copies of birth and death certificates, 

copies of land purchases in the names of 

some of the pseudonyms I've used. There was even 

a photo of the Rembrandt. 

"How did you get this?" I asked holding up the 

photo. I was getting angry, but I didn't let him know. 

This was too terrible to let a foolish burst of temper 

out. 

"Paul had to go back to your house for some repairs 

while I was there on my visit. I came along and 

snuck up to your study to make some shots." 

158 


"What do you want?" I asked. I felt sick. 

"Money?" 

He shook his head furiously. "No," he said. 

"That's not it at all. I want what you have. I want to 

be immortal." 

"And what makes you think I can make you so?" 

"Because that's how it works," he said. "Like 

vampires, only I don't think you're a vampire. At 

Página 90


least not the blood-sucking kind. You've got something 

and I want it. Why shouldn't I be like you? I 

figured out that you were immortal. I mean, 

shouldn't there be some kind of reward for that?" 

I closed my eyes. Mortals. Humans. There were 

times when I thought Alachia's attitude toward them 

was dead on. 

"And you think your reward should be that I 

make you into what I am?" 

He smiled. "Yes, that's it exactly." 

"Very well," I said. "Since you've asked so 

nicely." 

I forced myself to choke down the rest of dinner. 

The lovely salmon, the delicate potato souffle, the 

oysters, the escargot, even the marvelous Baked 

Alaska were all like ashes in my mouth. 

John Mortimer was having no such problem with 

his meal. He attacked the food like a hungry dog. 

When he didn't recognize a dish, he would look toward 

me inquiringly and I would oblige with the information. 

Except with the escargot. I told him it 

was a rare kind of seafood, like oysters. Luckily, he 

159 


knew what oysters were. The one culinary achievement 

of his previous life. 

That's how he referred to it: His Previous Life. As 

though he'd already moved out of it and into a 

greater place. He rambled on about the places he 

would go, the things he would do, never once telling 

me how he might acquire the means to achieve all 

these tremendous feats. It had taken me centuries to 

establish my own fortune. And still more time to attend 

to it. Money is like any other profession. You 

had to look in on it, make sure no one else had decided 

they liked it better than you did and run off 

with it. I found such things boring and loathsome in 

the extreme. But I still had to do it. I just don't like 

to talk about it. 

"... and then I thought you and I could .. ." 

This jerked me back to my companion and his 

ramblings. 

"You and I could what?" I asked. 

"Well, I mean, I thought that ... I just assumed 

that because you were going to make me like you 

that we would be together. I mean until, you know, 

whenever." 

"Whenever what?" 

"Whenever we got, you know, tired of each other. 

Or until I was ready to be out on my own." 

"I see, so not only am I to ... convert you to your 

immortality, but then I'm to be your nursemaid as 

Página 91

well?" 


He blushed. "Not nursemaid, exactly, but, well 

you know." He gave me quite a look then, and, had 

160 


I not been furious, I would have found it a bit interesting. 

But that was neither here nor there. 

"So, I'm to become your um, paramour, shall we 

say, and make you immortal. And what exactly is it 

that I'm supposed to achieve from this equation?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"What I mean is, what's in it for me? Why should 

I make you, of all people, like me? Is it your charming 

personality? Or perhaps it's your wit? Maybe 

your sexual prowess? Come now, why should I 

bother with you?" 

He was red again, but not from embarrassment. I 

think I might have offended him. What a pity. 

"You'll do it because I'll expose you if you 

don't." 

"Expose me to whom? The Agency in Charge of 

Finding and Keeping Immortals? Or maybe you'll 

go to the police. 'I beg your pardon, but there's a 

woman I know who's immortal.' They'll laugh you 

out of the office. Your whole story is preposterous. 

There won't be a dry seat in the house." 

"All I have to do is make one phone call to the 

nght sort of newspaper. They love this sort of thing. 

Only when they start digging, they'll find out it's 

true." 

"They'll wet themselves laughing." 

"Do you really want to risk it?" 

The little maggot. I hadn't thought he had the 

brass for it. 

"I thought not," he said. And smirked. 

He really shouldn't have smirked. 

* * * 

161 


I paid for dinner and we began walking through 

the Quarter. I didn't want to lead him straight toward 

the hotel, though I suspected he already knew where 

I was staying. What to do with him? I wondered. 

The crowd was thicker now that it was getting on toward 

nine o'clock. Mostly there were badly dressed 

tourists in too tight T-shirts with cute sayings on 

them. Some carried plastic cups with drinks in them. 

The smell of beer and sticky-sweet Hurricanes was 

overpowering. 

Página 92


I led us toward Chartres Street, then on toward the 

riverwalk. The smell of the Mississippi was heavy 

and thick like new-cut earth. It blended with the 

sweet aroma of the olive trees. For some reason it 

gave me a stab of hope, this strange combination of 

odors. It reminded me of another time and place. But 

such pleasant memories would get in my way now. 

I needed to attend to the matter at hand. 

We walked past the homeless people who were 

sleeping in the park and stepped over the ones who 

had simply lain down where they were. Every few 

paces or so, we were approached by someone asking 

for money. Most of the panhandlers had a ready 

patter, some hard-luck story about why they needed 

just another dollar. I gave to them willingly. Life 

presented us with enough indignities in just the 

living of it, so why make it worse if you could 

help? 

"Why are you giving them money?" hissed John. 

He glanced around as though he expected someone 

to jump up at him and demand money. 

"Because I have it. They need it. And I don't 

162 


mind giving to them," I said. "Why do you care anyway? 

It isn't your money." 

"You're just encouraging them," he said. "If 

no one gave them any money they'd have to get a 

job." 

"Let me see if I understand you," I said. "You 

think these people prefer to live meaner than any animal. 

That they are so unwilling to work that they 

would rather sleep on the ground in the cold, go 

without food, beg coin from strangers in the most 

humiliating way possible, and live in filthy rags? 

That is, of course, assuming that they are mentally 

stable enough to hold work or even have such rudimentary 

skills as reading, writing, or arithmetic. 

How silly of me to be so completely fooled by their 

clever charade. 

"Of course, I'm in the company of someone who 

wouldn't sully his hands with something as vulgar as 

say, extortion." 

"You know, you can be a real bitch," he said. 

I touched my hand to my heart. "I'm mortally 

wounded," I said. 

We walked down by the river for a while, until the 

sidewalk petered out and there was a sudden lack of 

street lights. John looked nervous, but I knew there 

was nothing to worry about, yet. 

"So you want to become immortal," I said. 

"What if I told you I can't do it? That this is something 

you're born with or not. That I can no more 

make you immortal than any stranger off the street 

Página 93

could." 

163 



He frowned. "You're just trying to confuse me," 

he said. "You told me at the restaurant ..." 

"I told you that so you wouldn't make a scene. 

Even if I wanted to, I couldn't change you from 

what you are. I don't have that power. Why would I 

lie to you?" 

"Is this a test?" he asked. 

I groaned. "No, it is not. It's the truth." 

"You just don't like me. That's why you're doing 

this. Well, it won't work. And it doesn't matter anyway. 

I figured out what you are, and that's worth 

something. Don't think you'll fool me the way 

you've fooled everyone else." 

"Oh, no," I said. "I wouldn't dream of that." 

/ think you're a special kind of fool, I thought. 

"You know, becoming immortal doesn't just happen 

overnight. It takes a while for the process to 

work." 

"But you can start it soon, can't you?" 

"Oh, yes," I said. "But first, I must make some 

preparations." I tossed him the key to my hotel 

room. "I'm in room 1650 at the Fairmont. I'll be 

back before midnight." 

"I'll be waiting," he said. 

I didn't say anything, just turned and went back 

toward the Quarter. 

I knocked on the door of my room at 11:45. The 

vid inside was loud enough for me to hear it through 

the door. Then the door swung open. I had halfhoped 

Mortimer might realize how foolish this 

164 


whole thing was, but no, there he was, sans jacket, 

and barefoot. 

"Glad to see you've made yourself comfortable," 

I said. 

"Yeah, well, given the circumstances, I didn't 

think you'd mind." 

"Push that bed up against the wall," I said. As he 

did so, I also pushed every other piece of furniture 

in the room against the walls, making a nice-sized 

space in the center of the room. 

"We're going to do it here?" he asked. 

"Why not?" I asked. "This place has always had 

a great deal of magical energy. Besides, this is just 

the start of the process, and I know how anxious you 

are to embark on your new life." 

Página 94


"Yeah, well, I guess I thought I'd have more 

time." 

"Time for what?" 

"I don't know," he replied. "To say goodbye." 

"You can't say goodbye, but you can go back and 

make some preparations," I said. "I'll explain everything 

after the ceremony." 

I crouched down and poured out the contents of 

the bag I'd brought back with me. Luckily, Marie 

Laveau's House of Voodoo had just the sort of 

things that would help in my little charade. Candles, 

skulls, charms, unidentifiable bones, incense, and 

assorted effluvia tumbled onto the carpet. Feathers 

I'd picked up in the park came from my jacket 

pocket. 

I shoved everything to one side. "Stand here," I 

instructed, pointing to the center of the room. I 

165 


placed the candles around him in a rough circle, 

then lit them. The incense I lit and stuck in-between 

the drawers of the bureau. Then I switched off the 

lights and went over to the window and drew the 

drapes. 

The effect was getting pretty good. Lots of sandalwood 

smoke wafting through flickering candle 

light. I made him hold out his hands and dropped a 

skull into one and the strange bones into the other. 

Then I made him open his mouth and popped one 

of the charms inside. I almost started laughing at 

the face he made, but I knew that would break the 

spell. 

The rest of the charms I placed in his pockets and 

down his shirt. Then I began to chant softly and 

wave my arms in front of him. In Sanskrit I told him 

what a complete imbecile he was and how his mother 

was probably a goat-herder who slept in cow dung 

for fun while she mated with snakes at the bottom of 

a cesspool. | 

From the expression on John Mortimer's face


"That's all right, you're supposed to," I said. 

"How do you feel?" 

He looked down at himself as though he expected 

to see something different. 

"The same. I'm getting a bit of a headache 

from all the incense," he said. "Are you sure it 

worked?" 

"Oh, I almost forgot," I said. "The most important 

thing." 

I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

I held it there for a long time. I could see the 

weave of his life. Could feel the singsong of his 

blood as it raced through his veins. His delicate and 

vulnerable veins. Especially those in his brain. So 

thin. So easily stressed. It took a bit out of me, the 

subtlety of it, but I had no other choice. 

He stepped back from me. 

"What's this?" he asked, reaching out and touching 

my cheek. 

There, suspended on the tip of his finger, was a 

single blood tear. 

"The price of immortality," I said. 

"I think I felt something," he said. 

"I'm sure you did." I reached out and gently 

wiped the tear away. 

The aneurysm killed him on his flight back to 

London. I had told him to go home and get his belongings 

and meet me in Scotland. It being a slow 

news day, his death actually made the paper in a 

small item. Freak accident, the report said. A terrible 

tragedy for one so young. 

167 


November 21, 1998 

Anna Sluage 

Earldom of Arran 

Arran Island, Scotland 

Dear Countess, 

It is my most embarrassing duty to tell you that my late 

client, one John Mortimer, had apparently become fixated 

on you during the last few years of his life. Upon his 

death, I was instructed to open a parcel he 'd left with me 

a few months ago. In this parcel were documents and 

writings of Mr. Mortimer claiming a tale as regards 

you, of the most fantastic sort. His instructions to 

me, as his solicitor, were that should he die under unusual 

circumstances I was to go to the media with this 

story. 

Due to the nature of my client's death, I recognized 

Página 96


these bizarre accusations as the demented ravings of a 

mentally ill man. It is a great sadness to his family that 

they did not realize how ill he was until his untimely demise. 

Please rest assured that I have forwarded all these materials 

to you for you to dispose of as you will. No copies 

have been made by me or my office. I can only hope that 

my client did not make himself a burden on you. Rest assured 

that this matter will go no further. 

Sincerely yours, 

Mecham Bernard, Esq. 

Several months later I received a note from John 

Mortimer's mother. She had gone to clean out his 

flat and had discovered his diary and a bulletin 

board covered with photos of me. In her letter, she 

said that she hoped her son had not bothered me. 

She explained that his obsession with me was no 

168 


doubt caused by the same weakness in his brain that 

killed him. 

She also told me that she had destroyed all the papers 

and pictures of me she had found. 

I wrote her back, thanking her for her concern, 

and assured her that her son had never bothered me 

in the slightest. We actually developed a bit of a correspondence, 

which lasted until her death in 2021. 

169 

She's traveling in a car. Or maybe it's a bus. She 

isn't sure, because it continually shifts shape and 

form. Caimbeui is driving. He is wearing that horrible 

makeup. Garish and clownlike. A hideous red 

gash of a mouth. Black diamonds over his eyes. Hair 

streaked with blond and orange. His usual garb is 

replaced with faded blue jeans, cowboy boots run 

down at the heels, and a washed-out T-shirt that 

says: Ninety percent of everything is drek. 

"7 was wondering when you 'd get here," 

Caimbeui says. 

"Where is here?" she asks. 

"You know, " he replies. "It's wherever you want it 

to be." 

She glances out the window, which shows an endless 

display of black night. The headlights occasionally 

catch a scrubby tree, then slide back over the 

broken road. Looking back at Caimbeui, she sees 

that the saying on the shirt has changed: I prefer the 

wicked to the foolish. The wicked sometimes rest. 

"Didn't? Wasn't?" she asks. 

"Oh," Caimbeui says looking down at his shirt 

and shrugging. "It's your dream. Don't ask me. I'm 

just along for the ride." 

Página 97


"You always did steal your best lines," she says. 

He drops the car into overdrive. It surges ahead, 

the G-force slamming both of them back in their 

seats. 

"Hang on," he shouts over the roar of the engine. 

"It's going to be a bumpy night." 

170 

20 

Runner's Revenge was blasting a cover of the old 

tune "Do You Believe in Magic?" over the trideo 

system at LAX. They'd done something strange to 

the song, pumping a reggae beat under the glassshattering 

shriek of the cyberjacked vocals of the 

lead singer, whose species, much less gender, I had 

yet to determine. 

As the lead singer seemed to pop from the trideo, 

I looked around for connecting flight info. Nothing 

as simple as a screen showing takeoffs and departures, 

I thought. Just as I was about to get on a tear 

about the uselessness of technology without practicality, 

Caimbeui grabbed me by the arm and steered 

me to a bank of flatscreens on the opposite side of 

the trideos. 

We had ten minutes to make our connection to 

Portland on Cinanestial. Wasn't that always the way 

of it, though? 

"We'll never get through Tir customs in time," I 

said. "When's the next flight out?" 

Caimbeui grabbed my bag and slung it over his 

shoulder. 

"Oh ye of little faith," he said. "While you were 

puttering about with Thais, I was making a few 

calls. No need to tell me how much you appreciate 

171 


it. Let's just say we'll be experiencing no trouble 

about our VAVs. And, most importantly, there will 

be no need for your strong-arm tactics. Now, don't 

give me that look." 

"I'm not giving you a look," I said as I raced 

along beside him. Though I am long-legged, I had to 

break into a quick trot to keep up with him. After 

all, he is a good head taller than me. 

"I knew you'd never give up a tissue sample, and 

you know how persistent these low-level customs 

security types are. I didn't want you to do to them 

what you did to our friend in the UK." 

"It got us in, didn't it?" 

"But here it might set off alarms. And I want our 

arrival to be as quiet as possible. I've arranged 

things with a friend. We should have no problems." 

Página 98


I frowned. "And who are we going to be beholden 

to for this favor?" I asked. "I don't like owing anyone 

anything if I can help it. This will be dicey 

enough. You know what the politics are like here. 

They make the Borgias look like a close and friendly 

family." 

"I'm the one with the favor owed, not you," he 

said. He sounded a bit exasperated. "I had forgotten 

how difficult you can be on a trip. At least you've 

learned to pack a little lighter." 

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" I said. 

But it came out more like, "And .. . just (gasp) what 

... isthatsupposedtomean?" 

"Nothing," he said. "Do you have your Visitor's 

Authorization Visa ready?" 

"Yes," I said. "And don't change the subject. I 

172 


don't recall you ever complaining about my luggage 

before. Have you been nursing this grudge for long? 

As I recall, the last time we traveled together for any 

length of time was back in eighteen ninety-eight. Vienna. 

And everyone had trunks, not just me. You 

had two of them. Plus a rather large leather portmanteau 

that never would have fit on any horse ..." 

"We're here," he said. 

I slid to a stop. The sleek silver, green, and white 

of the Cinanestial counter was in front of us. A male 

elf stood at the counter with a datacord jacked into 

a silver slot in his left temple running to the 'puter 

hidden behind the top of the counter. At the door to 

the plane stood another elf, who looked pleasant 

enough until you noticed that she had cyberware implants 

in both arms and a nasty-looking taser slipped 

into a tasteful sleeve on the side of her uniform. 

Both elves were wearing the Cinanestial uniform: 

skin-tight dark-green material with bold color blocks 

of silver and white. Though I suspected they were 

both expert at being polite and serving the passengers, 

anyone who gave them any grief would likely 

be pulling pieces of his favorite anatomy part from 

his throat for a long time to come. 

Before we even reached the counter, another uniformed 

elf appeared in front of us. I didn't see where 

she came from, and the fact that she got the drop on 

me irritated me to no end. 

"I need to see your VAVs, please," she said. The 

please was a mere formality. I had spent most of my 

time avoiding Tir Taimgire—and with good reason. 

Now I was waltzing in chin-first. Even with 

173 


Caimbeui as my companion, I wondered if this 

wasn't a bigger mistake than facing Ysrthgrathe 

Página 99

alone. 


I passed my VAV across to Caimbeui, who put it 

with his and gave it to her. 

"Stay here," she said. She turned and walked over 

to the elf at the desk. They talked together in low 

voices for a moment, then the counter-elf said something 

to the one with our passports. The customs elf 

put a deliberately blank expression on her face, then 

walked back to us. 

"Go on through," she said. "Have a good flight." 

Caimbeui took our papers and walked past without 

saying a word to her. I followed, trying hard not 

to give a smug grin. I failed. Oh, well. 

Just as we reached the door to the loading ramp, 

I heard a commotion behind us. I looked over my 

shoulder in time to see the customs elf tossing a 

scared-looking troll to the floor as if he were a ragdoll. 

All brawn, no brains. Some things never change. 

The flight to Portland was about two and a half 

hours. I didn't make small talk with Caimbeui. I was 

afraid I might blurt out that he'd been in my dream, 

and then I'd have to listen to him crow about that for 

the rest of the flight. 

He was a conceited bastard under the best of 

situations—I didn't want to think about how obnoxious 

he would become if I told him. 

And what was going on with my dreams anyway? 

I hadn't dreamed of Ysrthgrathe in several nights. It 

174 


scared me because if he wasn't coming to me 

through that window, where was he going to come 

from? 

Was he already here and waiting for me? Waiting 

to rip my life apart again? Or had I just dreamed him 

up? Pulled him from my nightmare past as surely as 

I had pulled him to me all those millennia ago? I 

wasn't sure now. No, I had to be sure. The fate of 

the world was riding on me. There was no room for 

mistakes. 

We sank into the gray clouds as we made our approach 

to Portland. From up in the golden sky to 

down into the rain and muck. I could barely make 

out the green land below as we popped in and out of 

the clouds. Rain smeared the double-paned windows. 

"How are we going to get the Council to hear 

us?" I asked. 

"I'm going to petition the High Prince," he re- 

Página 100

plied. 


"Lugh Surehand?" I asked. "I didn't realize you 

were on such close terms." 

Caimbeui looked away. 

"Don't tell me," I said. "He has no idea that we're 

coming, does he?" 

"I'm sure he knows we're coming. There's very 

little that goes on in Tir Taimgire that he doesn't 

know. But I haven't contacted him directly. I thought 

it would be better to wait until we're actually in 

Portland." 

"Why? And stop fidgeting." 

175 


"I'm not fidgeting. I don't fidget. That's an awful 

word. Fidget. You make me sound like a three-yearold." 

"If the age fits." 

He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging the 

band that held his ponytail. Then he cursed when the 

band got tangled up in his hair. The more he tugged 

at it, the worse the snarl became. I slapped his hand 

away and gently began to work it loose. 

"It's Aithne, isn't it?" I asked. "You're worried 

that when Aithne knows I'm in Portland, he'll do 

everything he can to see that I'm not heard." 

I was surprised to see him look so embarrassed. 

The band came loose and I ran my fingers through 

Caimbeul's hair to make sure there weren't any 

more tangles. It was as silky as I remembered, cool 

on top and warm near the nape of his neck. It was an 

odd moment, filled with promise and regret. Then I 

pulled my hands away and held out the band to him. 

His fingers slid over mine as he took it, and lingered 

there for a moment. 

"It's been so long, and he still hasn't forgiven 

me," I said. "I know I have no right to expect that 

he would, but all the same there's the hope in me 

that he might." 

Caimbeui took my hand and gave it a little 

squeeze. "He attends his grudges like a jealous wife. 

Age hasn't tempered him. It's only made him more 

of what he is. But isn't that the way it is with all of 

us?" 

"I suppose. But what about you and Ehran? I 

know you engaged in the Game some time ago. Did 

176 


that resolve any of your differences? Or did it 

Página 101


merely let you keep them simmering for another 

hundred years or so?" 

"Simmering, my sweet, simmering always. I 

never like to bring things to a boil." 

I held his hand tightly for a moment, then released 

it. 

"I seem to remember a time or two when that 

wasn't the case." 

"You are an evil woman, Aina." 

I just smiled at him, then went back to looking out 

the window. 

We passed through Tir customs easily. Whatever 

mojo Caimbeui had worked with his friend, it 

breezed us through the usual tediousness of the bureaucracy. 

I'd made it a point in the past to avoid Tir 

Taimgire at all costs. Oh, I'd been here a few times, 

but always as quickly and discreetly as possible. 

Though I knew Aithne would never act against me 

directly, I wasn't about to force the issue. 

Tir Taimgire was, after all, his baby. 

He'd cooked the idea up with Sean Laverty, Lugh 

Surehand, and Ehran. They'd moved with a purpose 

and precision to establish the Tir that preempted 

anyone who might have stood in their way. Not that 

I would have been foolish enough to try. I like to 

think that I've developed some measure of sense in 

roy old age. 

They tricked the Salish-Shidhe Council into giving 

over part of their land to the elves. Oh, I had to 

admire their cunning. Like all good mundane magic, 

177 


it was done with clever distractions and sleight of 

hand. 

It was Ehran who did the initial dirty work. And 

how he must have enjoyed the charade—posing as 

an Amerindian—Walter Bright Water—newly released 

from the Pyramid Lake Re-Education Center. 

He pretended that his wife and children had died 

there, then deceived the tribal elders with his knowledge 

of Cascade Crow tribal rituals. The treachery 

of it astounds. 

Perhaps I am letting my history with Caimbeui 

color my comments, for his and Ehran's relationship 

is a bitter one from long ago. The enemy of my 

friend is my enemy. Not that Ehran had the slightest 

idea of my opinion of him, of course. That would be 

foolishness of the first water. 

Anyway, eventually, he received a place on the 

S-S Council, and parlayed that into his final plan. He 

encouraged the segregation of metahumans, saying 

that Awakened individuals were better off away 

from humanity and their prejudices. But, at the same 

time, he encouraged the Salish-Shidhe and the other 

Native American Nations to welcome metahumans 

into their territories. 

Página 102


This brought metahumans into NAN and the 

Salish-Shidhe territories in ever-increasing numbers 

over the years just before the establishment of the 

Tir. Before Bright Water disappeared (faking his 

death, by the way.. Something I know he is quite 

proficient at), he encouraged the metahuman population 

to segregate itself into the southern region of 

178 


the Amerindian territories. They did so, and this was 

the beginning of what would later become Tir Tairngire. 

Of course, Aithne and the others hadn't been sitting 

by doing nothing, but they did let Ehran have 

all the fun. After "Walter Bright Water's" death, 

they appeared on the scene and began to lead the 

"renaissance in the south." By the time there was a 

formal declaration of independence by the Tir, the 

Salish-Shidhe was no longer a cohesive power and 

there was nothing NAN or any other nation could do 

to stop them. 

By this time, of course, Ehran had re-emerged as 

himself. The rest, as they say, is history. The Tir 

went on to be recognized by every other nation, with 

the notable exception of Aztlan. But then they are 

both special cases unto themselves. 

Now they had set themselves up as Princes, no 

less. Of course, that is how most of us thought of 

ourselves. After all, we had always ruled, whether 

overtly or covertly. The hand that guides the puppets 

does not have to seen. 

They had made all the preparations, but I suspected 

they still didn't believe the time would come 

when they would have to use them. Only that they 

would have the world made over in their image and 

no one would stop them. 

None but those who had always stopped us before. 

Caimbeui had booked us into the best hotel in 

Portland. It overlooked the Willamette River and 

179 


was as lush and palatial as any Louis the XIV wet 

dream. I'd never been particularly impressed by the 

elven fondness for royal pomp and circumstance. It 

seemed pretentious and ultimately destructive to me. 

But then no one had ashed my opinion on the matter, 

had they? 

I wasn't sure what influence Caimbeui wielded 

here, but there was enough bowing and scraping to 

make even Alachia happy. We were shown to the 

uppermost penthouse, being informed along the way 

that the High Prince had resided here while having 

his home remodeled. 

Caimbeui and I were suitably blase about the 

Página 103


whole situation. And why not? We'd seen Versailles 

at its height. And the Taj, that jewel of a building, 

small yet almost perfect. How could any hotel room, 

no matter how sumptuous, compare? 

Finally, we were left alone. The staff would have 

to be spoken to about the hovering. I dropped down 

onto one of the brocade sofas, sinking into the real 

feather cushions. 

"Well, what now?" I asked. "How long do you 

think we have until Aithne finds out I'm here?" 

Caimbeui went to the French doors leading out to 

the terrace and pushed them open. The air was sweet 

up here, with none of the sour, acrid smells I normally 

associated with cities. I knew they'd done 

much to manipulate the land in the Tir. The magical 

energy fairly pulsed in the air. If they'd put out a 

large neon sign telling the Enemy "Come and get 

us," they couldn't have done better. 

I knew there were now old-growth forests where 

180 


only a few years before there had been fallow land. 

Extinct species populated these forests—how they'd 

managed that I suspected I knew, but I hoped I was 

just being paranoid. 

"Not long," Caimbeui said. "Aithne has spies everywhere. 

Fortunately, he's away from Portland right 

now. And we know Alachia was in Tir na n6g. 

Though I suspect after our visit she might be here already. 

But I've never been very good at predicting 

what she will do next. 

"There's a celebration planned for this evening. 

Something to do with The Rite of Progression." 

I got up from the couch and came over to where 

Caimbeui stood by the open doors. It was already 

getting dark. The gray misting sky oppressive and 

bleak. 

"You don't like it here," I said. 

"No." 

"Neither do I. It reminds me too much of the days 

when Alachia was Queen. What she turned so many 

of us into. It frightens me because I think it could all 

happen again. Especially when I see that the Enemy 

is coming again." 

Caimbeui stepped behind me, then wrapped his 

arms about my waist. It was very comforting to 

stand there in the slowly falling chill night with him 

warm and solid against my back. He rested his chin 

on my head. 

"But things are different now," he said. "The 

world is different. We can keep the past from happening 

again." 

Página 104



"I hope you're right." 

"I am," he said. "I am." 


And we stayed there for a while, in the darkness, 

resting against each other for support. 


"Did you think I had forgotten you?" Ysrthgrathe 

asks. 

She freezes, finding herself not in the safety of 

Caimbeul's arms, but embraced by her enemy. His 

arms are thickly muscled and hold her so tight that 

even though she struggles, it's as if she has never 

moved. 

Then his mouth is at her ear, breath hot against 

the tender flesh. "I have been waiting for you so patiently, 

my sweet. This delay is but a heartbeat for 

me. The blink of an eye. And there is nothing you 

can do that will stop me this time. Not running to 

your precious Aithne. Not dragging that clown behind 

you. None of them will save you from me this 

time." 

Somehow, she manages to slip free of his grasp, 

but then he laughs and she knows he's let her go. 

"This isn't the past, Ysrthgrathe," she says. "I'm 

not that foolish girl anymore. You can't frighten me 

like you did then." 

"Liar," he says. 

21 

Caimbeui had insisted we bring formal attire. I had 

wondered at this, but as we entered the grounds of 



Royal Hill where Lugh Surehand occupied the Royal 

Palace, I was glad of his foresight. An elf attired in 

livery opened the door to our limo. 

I'd also wondered at Caimbeul's choice of vehicle 

until I saw the battery of armaments, assault weapon 

controls, and other trinkets loaded onto the seemingly 

innocuous luxury car. The driver was a nastylooking 

troll who seemed to know Caimbeul. Or at 

least they exchanged those knowing sort of nods that 

men think are very casual but anyone with half a 

brain can see right through. 

I wasn't sure whose Rite this celebration was for, 

but Surehand had gone all out. There were white 

tents scattered across the manicured lawns. Pathways 

between the tents were lit by magical means— 

nothing so mundane as electric lights for Lugh 

Surehand's guests. Garlands of flowers were draped 

over anything that stood still. Staff dressed in| 

Surehand's colors circulated among the guests carry- 

Página 105


ing tray after tray of wine and Epicurean delights. 

Even the weather had been manipulated. It was cool 

but not chilly, and the rain that had plagued us all 

day was finally gone. 

I noticed that all the servants seemed to be orks 

and dwarfs and almost all the guests elves. I knew 

that when the Tir was established they'd made a big 

show of inviting non-elven metahumans, but I suspected 

that it was more the desire for cheap labor 

than altruism. 

Hanging back at the edge of the party, I stayed in 

the shadows, pulling Caimbeul with me. 

"What are they?" I hissed, pointing at several 



elves dressed in solid-black partial body armor that 

resembled the plate mail worn by knights in the thirteenth 

century. Some sported SMGs, others more 

lethal-looking weapons. Around them I could discern 

magical auras. 

"They're Paladins," he replied. "Part of 

Surehand's personal guard. He takes younger sons 

from the noble families and makes them swear fealty 

to him. Ehran started the whole thing, I think. 

"It keeps them out of trouble. Otherwise they'd be 

brawling among themselves, or plotting to do in 

their older siblings. Let's face it, this hierarchical society 

they've reinstated has some serious drawbacks." 

I nodded. "Only so many can be on top, and since 

who ends up there is already decided, it leaves everyone 

else with any ambition pretty much hosed. 

It's actually a pretty clever solution. Channel all that 

brawn and energy into supporting the status quo. 

"But why would Surehand need them here? I 

know he has some sort of magical wards to protect 

this place. And I'm sure there's a mundane security 

system in place. Is there really that much chance for 

assassination?" 

Caimbeul shrugged. "Probably not, but would you 

wantJour bully boys to think they're being shirked 

socially? Much better to keep them handy." 

"And you wonder why I've never been much for 

society," I said. "This all seems like such a waste of 

time to me. I don't have the stomach for it." 

Caimbeul reached out and placed his hand lightly 

on the small of my back. I was wearing a gown cut 



very low in the back. The contact of his hand against 

my naked flesh made me shiver. 

"I think we'd best make ourselves known," Caimbeui 

said. "I wouldn't want to get caught lurking 

Página 106


here in the shadows." 

We moved forward then, stepping into the golden 

wash provided by the floating wisps of light. 

Caimbeui guided us from one group to the next with 

the practiced grace and smoothness I'd forgotten he 

possessed. After- all, he'd spent time both in 

Alachia's court as well as the courts of the Northern 

Kingdoms, while I had made myself an outcast from 

society many times over. 

With each group, we moved closer and closer to 

Lugh Surehand. It was a ballet of conversation, 

compliments, and jockeying for position. I was so 

caught up in admiring Caimbeui's easy skills as a 

courtier that I forgot for a moment to pay attention 

to who was moving toward us. 

"Aina," came a deep voice to my left. "It has 

been far too long. How are you, my dear?" 

I found myself being kissed on both cheeks by a 

tallish man dressed in an exquisitely cut suit of 

black worsted wool. His long, steel-colored hair 

hung unbound down to the middle of his back, and 

he had almond-shaped, preternaturally golden eyes. 

"Oh come now, Aina. Don't you recognize me?" 

I blinked, taken aback by the unexpected intimacy. 

Then I looked more closely at him. "Lofwyr," 

I said. "I didn't expect to see you in such a place. 

Nor in this guise." 

The dragon laughed. "When in Rome and all 



that," he said. "But what about you? Sheep's clothing? 

Or is it a new designer? As I recall, you were 

more fond of Chanel than anything else. But this 

doesn't look like anything I've seen lately." 

I smoothed a hand over the gray velvet of my 

dress, a nervous gesture that I caught and made myself 

stop. 

"I had no idea you were so interested in fashion," 

I said. "A new hobby, or are you just bored?" 

"Nothing is boring for long here," he said. "And 

now you have appeared after such a long time. Have 

you come to be reunited with your people?" 

I gave him an incredulous look. "I believe my position 

on 'my people' was made long ago, Lofwyr. 

And you'd best not forget it. It makes my task here 

all the more difficult." 

"So, you have come to play Cassandra," Lofwyr 

said. "You'd do well to remember what happened to 

her." 

I took a drink of my champagne to keep from 

frowning at him. At least it was Krystal and not a 

bad vintage. The privileges of power. Caimbeui had 

listened to pur conversation without saying any- 

Página 107


thing. I glanced at him to judge his mood, but he 

was looking past Lofwyr. I turned, following his 

gaze, and'saw that a young man was staring at us. 

I froze, for a moment thinking that I was seeing 

Aithne Oakforest, but this elf was too young to be 

Aithne. On second glance I saw the differences between 

them. The slightly petulant mouth. The 

spoiled expression on his face. The bored gaze. He 

had some of his father's coloring and bone structure, 



but the hair was too light and the eyes darker. Still, 

there was no doubt in my mind that this was 

Glasgian, Aithne's oldest son. Or at least the oldest 

surviving one. 

The thought of Aithne's son pushed the breath 

from me. That I could still feel the pain of this moment, 

even after all this time, astounded me. And I 

knew that my hopes for Aithne's forgiveness were in 

vain. 

I felt Caimbeul's hand on my elbow and heard his 

voice in my ear as though it were coming from a 

long way off, like an old-fashioned radio broadcast. 

"I know seeing him is a bit of a shock, Aina," 

Caimbeui said. "But don't let it throw you. He isn't 

Aithne, and he's not the ghost of Hebhel come back 

to haunt you. Remember what's important now." 

I turned toward Caimbeui, pulling my gaze from 

Glasgian. "I'm sorry," I said. My voice was reedy 

and thin in my ears. "He gave me such a start." 

"Are you all right, Aina?" asked Lofwyr. "You 

look positively green. Maybe you should sit down." 

"No," I said, more firmly this time. "I just felt a 

little strange for a moment there." 

Lofwyr glanced over his shoulder at Glasgian. 

"Ah, he does look quite like his father, doesn't he? 

No wonder it gave you a start. There's no love lost 

between you and Aithne. Is there? 

"I've always wondered about that. It seemed so 

strange ..." 

"Perhaps some other time," said Caimbeui as he 

led me away from the dragon. 

He steered me about the perimeter of the party, 



keeping up a steady flow of nods and polite remarks 

as we strolled. 

"Surehand is just ahead," he said. "Do you think 

you're up to meeting with him?" 

I nodded. "Of course," I said. "It was just a momentary 

lapse." 

Página 108


Tilting my glass then, I drank the rest of the 

champagne with one large gulp. A waiter passed 

close by and I grabbed another glass from him. How 

I wished it were something stronger. 

"You don't suppose Surehand has a supply of 

Taengele lying about, do you?" I asked. 

Caimbeui gave a little frown. I returned it and he 

knew better than to go over that old ground with me. 

Oh, I knew that particular demon was never far 

away, but I didn't succumb to it anymore. 

"I'm certain there is little that Lugh denies himself," 

Caimbeui said. "But we haven't time to 

indulge that particular vice of yours right now." 

I downed the second glass and got a small headache 

from the bubbles. 

"Very well," I said, giving him a grand wave of 

my hand. "Lead on, MacDuff." 

He rolled his eyes, but said nothing as he took my 

hand and led me to the small circle where Lugh 

Surehand stood. 

"May I present Aina Sluage, Lugh," said Caimbeui. 

I extended my hand and Lugh Surehand brought it 

UP to his Ups and kissed it. He was much taller than 

I. with a slender build. His hair was dark red, almost 



the color of newly turned maple leaves in fall. His 

eyes were green as summer grass. 

I thought he might have looked quite at home in 

Elizabethan times with his goatee and the rakish scar , 

he sported on his neck. I knew from Caimbeui that 

it was an old injury, one that ran across and down 

his neck and across his shoulder. 

There was an aura of command about him, though • 

I thought he might have toned it down somewhat to 

accommodate the temperaments of the other Elders. 

I suspected that Aithne, Ehran, and the others would 

never tolerate the idea that they were being led by 

anyone. 

"Ah, so you are Aina," he said. "I have heard so 

many things about you. How is that we have not met 

over the years?" 

I smiled very slowly at him. "My misfortune, no 

doubt," I said. "I have always been cursed with bad 

luck." 

"No, madam, the ill fortune was mine," he murmured. 

He had not yet released my hand. 

So that was how it was to be. All so very polite 

and civilized, until, of course, the knives came out. 

"Would you like a tour of the grounds?" Surehand: 

Página 109


asked. ; 

"Delighted," I said. "I understand they are most 

impressive." 

I let him pull me to his side and tucked my hand 

into the crook of his elbow. "I am curious," he said 

as he led me away from the small circle of people 

and down toward his great house. "I understand you 

190 


knew Goya. I have always been a great admirer of 

his work. Tell me, was he mad there at the end?" 

I glanced over my shoulder at Caimbeui, but he 

was already engaged in conversation with a pretty 

young woman to whom we'd just been introduced, 

the Countess Teargan. She was Surehand's constant 

companion, and even Caimbeui was unable to ascertain 

the nature of their relationship. 

"I suppose all humans go mad upon realizing that 

they will die soon," I said. "Isn't that their great 

misfortune?" 

Surehand glanced at me, his face shrewd for a 

moment before the pleasant mask slipped back into 

place. 

"I don't believe you find it to be," he said. "I've 

always found that peculiar about you. You seem to 

despise your immortal state." 

"Despise is a bit strong," I said lightly. "I find the 

proposition a bit strange. It occurs to me that we few 

have had so much time, yet we have not done any 

great good with it. And often we have done such 

harm in the name of ourselves." 

"Perhaps we are beyond such notions as good or 

bad," he said. We were crossing the broad expanse 

of green lawn. Lawn that should have been brown 

this time of year. 

"But isn't that the very problem?" I asked. 

"So you concern yourself with loftier matters than 

ours—is that it?" he asked. 

I could hear the edge in his voice. "No," I said. "I 

only know that my choices are those I can live with 

"ay to day." 

191 


We reached the foot of the wide steps leading up 

to a terrace outside the house. In the dim light, it 

looked gray-white and unreal. As though it were 

some creation conjured up to amaze. 

"Yet you come here to ask for my help," he said 

as he led me up the steps. It was getting colder, and 

Página 110


I shivered. He pulled off his jacket and draped it 

over my shoulders. It smelled of orris root, tobacco, 

and musk. 

"Yes," I said. "I have news that I believe must be 

told not only to the Elders, but to the world at 

large." 

Pushing open the wide glass doors, Surehand gestured 

for me to enter the house. Inside it was dark 

and shadowy. I banged my knee on something and 

gave a little yelp. Instantly, the room was bathed in 

golden light. 

"It's that damn ottoman," he said. "I keep telling 

the maids not to leave it here, but they never listen. 

Are you all right?" 

I flopped down on the ottoman and pulled my 

skirt up to look at the damage. It was minor, but I 

could tell there would be a bruise the next day. 

"It's nothing," I said as I smoothed my skirt back 

down. "Is it safe to talk here?" 

"Yes," he replied. "The house and grounds are 

swept on a regular basis for any sort of bugging— 

magical or otherwise. I'm curious, though. You are 

here with Harlequin. Surely you know he is at odds 

with Ehran." 

"I know," I said. "But his relationship with you is 

still intact. And I have much more severe problems 

192 


among the Elders of this Tir myself. Aithne and 

Alachia, for example. From whom I suspect you 

have received much of your information about me." 

He dropped into a chair opposite me and looked 

me over. 

"You are both not at all what they described and 

quite like their descriptions," he said after a moment. 

"But I'm not so foolish as to acquire all my 

information from only two sources—and those with 

grudges, no less." 

"And what have you found?" I asked. My ego 

speaking, no doubt. 

Surehand settled into his chair, then propped his 

feet next to me on the ottoman. 

"You have stayed out of political dealings for 

most of this cycle. You disapprove of the way we've 

been handling matters thus far; According to Aithne, 

who rarely allows any mention of your name, you 

are worse than any nightmare." 

That stung, coming from someone else. So he 

hated me enough still to try and sabotage me at every 

turn. Well, perhaps it was no more than I deserved. 

"Ah," I said. "Aithne always did have a way with 

Página 111

words." 


, Lugh Surehand laughed. It was deep and rusty, as 

though he didn't use it often. 

"Alachia underestimates you," he said. "She said 

you had little wit." 

I shrugged. "Alachia underestimates anyone who 

doesn't automatically worship her—or those who 

cannot be led around by portions of their anatomy." 

193 


"I know little of the animosity between the three 

of you. Aithne refuses to speak of it, and Alachia 

holds it out like a trinket, then snatches it away 

when one gets too close." 

I smoothed the velvet of my gown across my 

knees. In the warm light it took on a deep silver cast. 

Anything to distract me from memories of the past. 

"Do you know the story of Scheherazade?" I 

asked. 

For a moment, Surehand looked startled, but I 

knew he would quickly replace that with his usual 

bland expression. I wasn't disappointed. And it occurred 

to me that for all his show of calmness and 

balance, he was really quite formidable. After all, he 

had managed to remain High Prince since the founding 

of Tir Taimgire. With all the political intrigue so 

rife among the Elders, he should have been ousted 

long ago. But here he was in complete control of the 

Tir. 

"She was married to a sultan. He killed every 

other wife he took after only one night with her," began 

Surehand. "On the first night of Scheherazade's 

marriage to him, she refused to lay with him, insisting 

instead that she would tell him a story. Each 

night continued after the first the same way. She 

kept him spellbound with her wit and stories. It continued 

thus for a thousand nights. 

"At the end of the thousand nights, the sultan had 

fallen in love with Scheherazade and couldn't bring 

himself to kill her. Thus was she spared." 

I clapped my hands softly together. "Bravo," I 

194 


said. "Nicely told. You will go far should you ever 

become the wife of a sultan." 

"Am I to take it that you have no desire to become 

my Scheherazade?" 

"I think now would not be the time for those stories. 

I would not cloud the danger of the present 

with tales from the past." 

"And if I were to insist?" 

I shut my eyes. "Then I would oblige," I said. 

"Then this must be a very serious matter indeed," 

Página 112

he said. 


I opened my eyes. He was looking at me with an 

unreadable expression. I knew then that I would 

never willingly make an enemy of him. To do so 

would be far too dangerous, even for me. 

"I would not come here otherwise," I said. 

"Very well," he said. "What is it you wish?" 

"For you to call an emergency meeting of the 

High Council." 

C 

195 

She's in a dark house. At first, she thinks it is 

Lugh Surehand's mansion, but then she realises this 

is no place she's been before. 

Outside, she hears the roar of helicopters. Brilliant 

lights come streaming around the edges of 

the drawn shades. Then the door bursts open and 

shadow figures are coming inside. They hold weapons 

and they are grabbing. Grabbing the other people 

who are here. There are screams and she starts 

to run. Run away from the faceless things breaking 

into her dream. 

22 

"It went well then?" asked Caimbeul. 

We were in the back of the limo again. I still had 

Surehand's jacket around my shoulders. I'd forgotten 

to take it off as he led me back to the party. 

"He agreed to call a meeting of the High Council," 

I replied. "It went much better than I expected. 

But I suspect he'll want something in return." 

"And what might that be?" 

"I have no idea," I said. "But I think he might be 

more dangerous than both Aithne and Alachia." 

"Lugh Surehand?" Caimbeul was incredulous. 

196 


"He's good enough at compromise and juggling the 

players, but a threat? Please." 

Ignoring his arrogance, I stared out the tinted windows. 

The rain-slick streets flashed by. On a corner 

I saw a pair of trolls dressed in the height of fashion. 

I wondered briefly what they were doing here in this 

neighborhood, then let them fade from my mind. 

"You're a fool if you underestimate him, Caimbeul. 

He has neither Aithne's temper nor Alachia's 

ego. How has he managed to stay in power all this 

time? That isn't the feat of someone who should be 

taken lightly. 

"Didn't I read something about an assassination 

attempt, not too long ago? Despite that, he's still in 

power. More the wonder if one of us was behind it." 

Página 113


"You sound impressed," he said. "I can't remember 

the last time anyone impressed you." 

"What are you talking about?" 

"You sound like a school girl." 

"Don't be asinine," I said. I was getting impatient. 

"You haven't been listening. Yes, I find him interesting, 

but not in the way you seem to think. He's a 

force to be reckoned with and not just some puppet 

put in place by Aithne, Ehran, and Laverty." 

Caimbeul made a smug little noise. I turned toward 

him. 

"What was that?" I asked. 

"Nothing," he said. 

"Why are you making such an issue out of this?" 

"You're the one who won't let it drop." 

I gave an exasperated sigh and turned away from 

197 


him. Sometimes there was no knowing what was in 

Caimbeul's head. 

The main room of the penthouse was dark when 

we entered. Some pale light filtered in through the 

terrace windows. The light from the hallway made a 

wide triangular shape on the floor and cast our shadows 

long in it. 

I banged my injured knee on something and let 

out a curse. Enough of this, I thought, and caused a 

light to appear. The room leapt into view, and it took 

my eyes a moment to adjust to the light. 

There, sitting on the couch, was Aithne's son, 

Glasgian Oakforest. 

"Ah, perhaps the very last person I might have 

expected," said Caimbeul. His voice was pleasant, 

but I knew from his far too casual stance that he was 

very angry. 

Glasgian stretched and made himself more comfortable. 

A trick he'd learned from his father. 

"My business doesn't concern you. Harlequin," he 

said. He had a spoiled rich-kid way of speaking. I 

didn't know who I was more disappointed in—him 

or Aithne. 

"I beg to differ," said Harlequin. "It most certainly 

is my business when I find an intruder in my 

hotel room. Besides, aren't you worried about what 

Daddy would say?" 

Glasgian blanched and clenched his fists. That 

was his father's temper showing. "I've reached my 

majority, Harlequin. I don't answer to my fa . . . 

Página 114


Aithne anymore." 

198 


"Stop it, Caimbeul," I said. "Just let him state his 

business, then he'll be on his way." 

"I don't want to talk with him around," said Glasgian. 

"Why should I talk to you alone?" I asked. 

"Because of who my father is." 

"All the more reason not to trust you." 

Glasgian began to look a little desperate. What a 

baby he was, trying so hard to play in a game he 

didn't even begin to understand. 

"Very well," I said. "Caimbeul, I'll deal with 

him." 

"But ..." 

"What can he do?" I asked in Theran. "He's a 

child." 

"What better way to get your guard down?" 

"Aithne would not sacrifice his son. Not to me." 

Caimbeul shrugged, then gave Glasgian one last 

hard look before casually moving off toward his 

bedroom. 

I slipped off my high-heeled shoes, giving a little 

sigh as I did so. Murderous things, high heels. Impractical 

too. Who could run or defend herself in 

them? I stayed away from them as much as possible. 

Ignoring Glasgian for the moment, I went to the 

portable^ bar. My feet sank into the thick carpeting 

and I wriggled my toes against it as I poured myself 

a healthy snifter of cognac. I didn't bother to ask 

Glasgian if he wanted any. He'd already helped himself. 

I was tired and didn't relish any more verbal 

wrangling. Lugh Surehand had worn out what little 

199 


sociability I had in me. What I wanted right now 

was to be alone. The Council meeting would be held 

day after tomorrow, and I would need all my energy 

for that. 

I turned and looked Glasgian over. Here, one on 

one, he seemed less cocksure and full of himself. 

For a moment, I felt a surge of protectiveness, but I 

pushed it aside. Those sorts of things were always 

messy, in my experience. 

"What do you want?" I asked. It came out sharper 

Página 115


than I'd intended. He looked a bit wounded. 

"I ... I was wondering ... That is ... uh .. .What 

are you to my father?" he blurted out. 

I walked over to one of the large armchairs that 

flanked the couch and sat down. The polished cotton 

fabric was cool against my back. 

"Why do you ask?" 

"Because he hates you more than he loves my 

mother." 

"They are separated now, are they not?" 

He nodded and looked more like a child than the 

man he had just become. 

"I am his past," I said. "And he would rather not 

remember it. I don't think anyone reaches a reasonable 

age without some regrets. Not if you're doing it 

right." 

"But, were you in love? He won't say anything 

about it. Just that you are something awful. When I 

saw you, I couldn't believe you were the one he'd 

been talking about." 

"What did you expect? Horns sprouting from my 

forehead and long fangs?" 

200 


"I guess I thought I'd see something that would 

explain, but all I see is you. And you don't look so 

terrifying." 

I laughed. "I'm surprised you're allowed out on 

your own, Glasgian. You are refreshingly naive, but 

I fear you're a bit stupid as well." 

He flushed deep red at that. 

"Where did you get the rather peculiar idea that 

you could tell how dangerous someone is by their 

appearance? Good heavens, not from your father, 

I'm sure." 

"I didn't come here to be insulted," he said. 

"No, you came here to invade my privacy and 

your father's. Not terribly polite of you, if we're 

counting coup. If that is the reason you came, you'd 

better go now. I'm tired and I have no patience for 

indulging a child's curiosity." 

I thought this would send him on his way in an indignant 

huff, but he surprised me. He got up and 

came toward me, sinking to his knees in front of me. 

Taking my free hand in his, he brought it to his lips 

and kissed it. Quite a workout that hand was getting 

tonight, I thought. 

"Do you think you'll send me on my way with insults?" 

he asked. 

Página 116


"Yes, that was the idea." 

"It won't work. I saw how you looked at me when 

you first saw me. Don't deny it, you wanted me." 

I snatched my hand away from him. "Stop it," I 

said angrily. "This has really gone far enough. I was 

startled for a moment because you look like your fa- 

201 


ther. For obvious reasons, I didn't want to encounter 

him." 

"Yes, I do look like him," he said softly, leaning 

toward me until I could smell the whiskey and 

cinnamon on his breath. "You could pretend I am 

him. Imagine it, a way to go back and undo the 

past." 

I stood up and stared down at him. How very like 

Aithne he looked at that moment. But he was only a 

simulacrum, a faint copy of his father. And twisted 

in such ways that I wondered at what had caused it. 

"What sort of rotten plan do you have in mind?" 

I asked. "You thought you'd come here, seduce me, 

then run back to Aithne and throw it in his face. I 

can't imagine what your father may have done to 

make you angry enough at him to do such a thing." 

Glasgian wrapped his arms around my legs and 

buried his face in the material of my skirt. "It's 

more than that," he said. "When I saw you tonight, 

something happened to me ... I've never felt like 

this." 

With a quick jerk, I put my knee to his chest. He 

toppled over, letting go of my dress. I danced away 

from him, putting several pieces of furniture between 

us. 

"It is only my respect for your father that keeps 

me from treating you as you deserve. This display 

was shameful and not worthy of either me or your 

father. Get out before I lose my temper." 

He gave me a smug smile as he straightened his 

clothes. "It doesn't matter that nothing happened 

here tonight. I'll tell Aithne it did." 

202 


"You are an evil little shit," I said flatly. 

He gave me a low bow, but before he could 

straighten, something caught my attention. Spinning 

about, I saw that the doors to the terrace had blown 

open. There, standing in the doorway was the Horror, 

Ysrthgrathe. 

He was as I remembered. Cloaked in deep brown, 

power radiating off him like a corona. Though his 

face was shadowed by his hood, I knew how it 

would appear: cadaverous, with the sienna flesh 

pulled taut against his skull. The collapsed nose, the 

Página 117


yellowed teeth, the heavily muscled arms that 

burned my flesh as he held it. Under the cloak was 

his tail. Thick as a man's waist, with protruding 

bony ridges. 

"Ah, I see I must again rescue you from those 

who would deprive me of my pleasure," Ysrthgrathe 

said. "You look quite faint, my dear. Is it such a 

shock to see me again after all this time? I'm 

wounded. I thought you would have expected me by 

now." 

The air was gone. It felt as though everything was 

going black. I thought I heard Glasgian's panicked 

cry, but it seemed to come from some far-off place. 

I struggled to overcome my panic. In the seconds it 

took me to regroup, Ysrthgrathe had slid across the 

floor and grabbed Glasgian. 

Backing away from me, he held Glasgian against 

his chest as a shield. Around Glasgian's neck were 

Ysrthgrathe's long fingers tipped by razor-sharp 

nails. Glasgian was making little hiccuping noises. 

203 


"Let him go," I said. "This doesn't concern 

him." 

Ysrthgrathe threw back his head and laughed. It 

bounced off the walls and echoed inside me like a 

low-throbbing ache. 

"Aina, it has indeed been too long. I've missed 

these little tete-a-tetes. Do you think I don't know 

who this child is? Come now, I'm not that much of 

a fool. The irony is almost too perfect. Is it not?" 

Then he gave a sigh of such perfect rapture that I 

felt as though a shaft of ice had been driven into my 

heart. 

"How long have you denied me this most perfect 

of pleasures?" he asked. "I've been waiting for you 

patiently. You've denied me for far too long. And 

now you shall pay." 

He began to draw his nails across Glasgian's 

neck. The blood welled up after a moment and trickled 

down into the white shirt. Glasgian gave a moan, 

and a dark spot appeared on the front of his trousers 

and grew. 

"Stop it," I shrieked. 

Just then, there was a violent flash, a purple jolt of 

energy, behind Ysrthgrathe. The force of it lifted 

him and Glasgian off the floor and hurtled them toward 

me. I dropped to the floor, but still, my shoulder 

was caught by one of them as they flew by. The 

force of the impact rolled me over and over until I 

came to rest against a table. 

I looked up and saw Caimbeui standing just beyond 

the door to his bedroom. There was a crackling 

of energy around him. Then I heard another sound 

204 

Página 118



and turned my head to see what it was. Ysrthgrathe's 

robes burst into flame. With the briefest nod of the 

head, he extinguished the flames, and turned to Harlequin 

with a smile. But he'd also let go of Glasgian, 

who was making whimpering noises and clutching 

his throat. 

Cursing my long skirts, I struggled to my feet and 

raced over to him. I pulled his hands away from his 

neck and looked at the wound. It was bleeding profusely, 

but wasn't as deep as I'd feared. Placing my 

hands on the wound, I began to pull the weave of his 

life together. My hands grew warm, then hot as the 

magic worked its way into his flesh. Glasgian tried 

to move away from me, but I tightened my hands 

and that stopped him. 

I heard a cry, and looked up to see Caimbeui falling 

backwards, arms and legs splayed out. A bright 

orange flash blinded me for a moment, and when I 

could see again, Ysrthgrathe stood over Caimbeui. 

The sweet smell of burning flesh came to me and I 

fought against the memories it called forth. 

I opened my arms, and a blue light leapt between 

my palms. It coalesced into a ball of blue-white brilliance. 

Turning my palms outward toward Ysrthgrathe, 

I pushed the ball away from me. It hurtled across the 

room and slammed into Ysrthgrathe's side. 

The impact spun him around, and then he crashed 

into the wall with a howl of indignation. 

"Ah, Aina," he said, holding his side. "You still 

care. But despite my gratitude to find that you are as 

I remember, our sweet reunion must be cut short. I 

205 


cannot say I approve of your choice of company, but 

rest assured, I will rectify that in the future." 

With that, he vanished. 

I sank to the floor just as someone began banging 

on the door to the penthouse. 

206 

No more dreams now. 

The nightmares have merged with the waking 

world. The time for running is over. 

Now her sleep is covered by nothing. Nothing except 

darkness. 

23 

The pounding at the door continued. Through the 

thick steel door I could hear a voice calling. 

"This is hotel security. Is everything all right in 

there? If we don't hear an answer in twenty seconds, 

we're coming in." 

Página 119


"Damn, damn, damn," I muttered as I pushed myself 

off the floor and stumbled to the door. The left 

sleeve on my dress was torn, and it slid off my arm. 

I shoved it up, but it fell down again. Reaching the 

door, I flung it open. 

"What do you want?" I said, trying to keep a balance 

between annoyance and huskiness in my tone. 

"There was a report from the floor below," said 

one of the uniformed guards. There were two of 

them—big troll bruisers lugging heavy-duty artillery. 

"Something about a lot of shooting and banging 

around. Is everything all right?" 

"Of course," I said. 

207 


"Mind if we come in?" 

"I don't, but my companion might," I said. "He's 

a bit ... tied up at the moment." I gave them a hot 

smoldering look, and one of them looked distinctly 

uncomfortable. 

"Oh ..." 

"But we're always to open to variety," I continued. 

"I can't remember the last time we had company. 

That is, if your boss won't mind letting you 

off-duty for a while." 

"Uh ..." 

"Well, what's it to be?" 

"I don't think we need to stay. As long as everything 

is all right." 

"We're both fine," I purred. "Really." 

The trolls backed away down the hall. I watched 

them for a moment, then gave them a slow, nasty 

smile and shut the door. 

"What are we going to do about Glasgian?" 

Caimbeui asked me. He'd just finished off a spell to 

. take care of the wounds he'd suffered in the struggle 

with Ysrthgrathe. 

Unfortunately, Glasgian was in no condition to offer 

an opinion about his plans. A thin dribble of saliva 

hung from one corner of his gaping mouth. His 

eyes were vacant and glassy. When I touched his 

cheek it was cold and clammy. 

"We'll keep him here until after the Council 

meets. If necessary, we can use him as a demonstration," 

I said. 

"That wouldn't be advisable," replied Caimbeui. 

208 


Página 120

"Aithne," I said. 

"Yes." 


"Help me with him," I said, taking one of 

Glasgian's arms. 

Together, we managed to drag him to my room 

and lay him down on the bed. I disconnected the 

telecom, then cast a spell to protect and hold him. 

Back in the living room, we righted the furniture 

toppled during the fight. I went to the terrace doors 

and shut them. 

After a couple of medicinal drinks, I felt more 

like myself. 

"I told you," I said as I finally came to sit beside 

Caimbeui on the sofa. "I told you he was here. That 

he'd found a way through." My hands shook and I 

took another deep drink. And wished for something 

else. Something more potent. 

"I believed you," he said. "But I didn't think the 

threat was all that great." 

"Because you thought you'd already dealt with 

them. But they're coming like locusts. And they 

won't stop until they've all made it through." 

"Things are different now." 

"How?" 

_ "The weapons. The Matrix. And the magic. There 

is always the magic." 

I snorted, then got up to pour myself another 

drink. "Have you forgotten everything?" I asked. 

"They leam. They're patient. The first few may die, 

but there's no end to them." 

"Don't you think you've had enough?" 

209 


I turned and threw my glass at him. It disappeared 

a moment before it would have hit his face. 

"Aina," he said. "I'm on your side. I just can't 

stand to see you destroying yourself over this." 

"For heaven's sake, Caimbeui, I've just seen the 

face of my most dreaded enemy after six thousand 

years, and you're carping about a couple of drinks. 

It would take far more than that to slow me down 

right now." 

"Pax," he said, holding up his hands. "I want no 

more fights tonight. One was quite enough. Let's put 

up a ward, then get some sleep." 

"So, are you sleeping on the couch or am I?" I 

asked. 

"Well, it's my bedroom," he said. 

Página 121


"Very well," I replied. "I should have known 

better than to expect you to be a gentleman about 

it." 

"You're a real pain, you know." 

"Oh, I'm fatally wounded," I said. "Do you have 

an extra blanket?" 

He shook his head. "Look, why don't we just 

share the bed? It's not like we haven't before." 

I looked away. "That was different," I said. "It 

was a long time ago." 

"I promise to restrain myself," he said. 

"I don't know whether to be flattered or offended." 

"You'll be whatever annoys you the most." 

I swept by him, going toward his bedroom. 

"You're right," I said. 

* * * 

210 


There was more than enough room in the bed for 

both of us. Three full-sized orks would have been 

comfortable in it. Despite, or maybe because of, 

Caimbeul's promise, I couldn't sleep. I'd been afraid 

to sleep because of the dreams. But now I suspected 

there would be no more dreams. 

Ysrthgrathe, my old enemy. More faithful than 

any lover. The weight of my past with him hung in 

my mind. I shut my eyes, but images kept coming to 

me. The trail of death and blood that followed me 

because of him. 

A sick feeling settled into my stomach and 

worked its way up my throat. I shuddered at the 

thought of the pain and suffering that I knew Ysrthgrathe 

would inflict. All in my name. 

A low moan escaped my lips. 

"Aina," said Caimbeui. 

"Did I wake you?" I asked. "I'm sorry." 

"No," he said. "I can't sleep. I'm feeling cold. Do 

you mind if I hold you? Strictly for warmth." 

I slid across the vast expanse of the bed into the 

warmth of his arms. And still it was many hours before 

I slept. 

A banging woke me the next morning. 

"Doesn't anyone just knock in this hotel?" asked 

Caimbeui. We were tangled up together, just like we 

used to be in other, happier times. He threw off the 

covers and grabbed his robe from the edge of the 

Página 122

ed. 


I pulled the covers up over my head and tried to 

go back to sleep, but then I remembered where I was 

211 


and what that meant. With a groan, I threw the covers 

off and made my way to the bathroom. 

Just as I shut the door, I heard the sound of 

voices, so I poked my head out. 

"What? Surprised to see me?" 

Ehran. 

I groaned. More bad luck. But wasn't that always 

the case? I rummaged through Caimbeul's suitcase 

and found a shirt, a pair of pants, and a belt. Not 

fashionable, but it would have to do. 

As I pushed open the door leading to the living 

room, I could see them squaring off against one another, 

even though they would never actually do 

anything here. 

"Well, well," I said brightly, stepping into the 

room. "Ehran, won't you join us for breakfast?" 

"Aina," he said. "It's been a long time." 

"Isn't it always?" I replied. "I know the two of 

you are just dying to go at one another, but I'm really 

famished. I'll call down. What are you in the 

mood for?" 

"Answers," Ehran said. 

"I don't think that's on the menu." 

He jerked his thumb toward Caimbeul. "Why do 

you spend so much of your time with him?" I half 

expected Caimbeul to take the bait, but he only 

glared back at his old rival. Maybe he was keeping 

quiet because he knew how important all of this was 

to me. 

"Slumming," I said. "It keeps me off the streets. 

Really, Ehran, who knows why certain people always 

seem to end up together?" 

212 


"Then tell me why you're both here. And why did 

you have a meeting with Lugh Surehand last night? 

Which seems to have resulted in an emergency 

meeting of the High Council being called." 

"Good heavens, Ehran," I said. "With spies that 

good, why do you need to come to us?" 

"When I found out you were here as well as him, 

Página 123


I decided to come," Ehran said. 

I opened the room service menu and glanced over 

the selections. "Really, Ehran, I'm touched, but 

we've never been close. And only rarely allied. Why 

come?" 

"Don't try to discuss anything with him, Aina," 

said Caimbeul. While Ehran and I had been talking, 

he'd walked to the window and pulled open the 

drapes. Weak sunlight filled the room. The sky was 

overcast and looked like it might rain. 

"Don't listen to him, Aina," said Ehran. "He just 

thinks—" 

"Would you both shut up?" I nearly shouted. 

"Haven't you grown tired of all this bickering? 

There are more important matters at stake than your 

interminable feud." 

"Well, now we're getting down to it," said Ehran. 

"For heaven's sake, Aina," said Caimbeul. "Don't 

breathe a word to him. He'll go running to everyone 

else quick as you please, and you'll be sunk before 

you've had a fair hearing." 

Then they were off and running. Nothing ever got 

solved between the two of them—it was still that old 

business. I confess, my sympathies lay with Caim- 

213 


beui—he was the aggrieved party, after all—but 

that's another story, for another time. 

I waited until they ran out of steam, which they 

eventually did. They sat at opposite ends of the 

room glowering at each other. 

"So," I said. "What would you both like for 

breakfast?" 

"Why won't you tell me?" Ehran asked for perhaps 

the thirtieth time. 

I wiped my mouth with the napkin and dropped it 

onto my empty plate with the remains of the lavish 

breakfast we'd ordered. Caimbeui had loaded a plate 

with food, then disappeared into his bedroom. Pouring 

myself another cup of coffee—the real stuff, not 

that awful soykaf—I got up and went to one of the 

large armchairs and plopped down on it. 

"First, because you and Aithne are long-time 

friends. I suspect anything you hear from me goes 

straight back to him. Second, you're also close to 

Alachia. Oh, don't give me the surprised look. I 

know she's been a member of the Council since the 

beginning. You were smart to try to keep that secret, 

though. There are still a few of us who remember 

the old days. 

"I would hate to think what might happen should 

Alachia's influence become more ... assertive. I believe 

things might get very difficult indeed. Just re- 

Página 124


member, Lofwyr is keeping an eye on things." 

Ehran didn't say anything, but leaned back in his 

chair and lit a cigarette. I got up and went to open 

the terrace doors. Nasty habit, that. I'd taken it up 

214 


briefly and put it aside as quickly. The Indians had 

the right idea about tobacco. It wasn't a thing to be 

taken casually. They understood that. Unfortunately, 

the Europeans didn't. 

"I might think that there was a threat in what 

you're saying," said Ehran. 

"No," I said softly. "I don't threaten. You know 

better than that. I'm just letting you know my position." 

"Don't you think it's a bad idea to alienate me 

right before the meeting of the Council?" He blew 

little smoke rings and watched them float away from 

him. 

"I know you're willing to hear the truth. And that 

you might be willing to overlook my unfortunate 

choice in companions." 

Ehran smiled at me. "I've always liked you, despite 

your strange politics." 

"That and Aithne." 

"Yes," he said. "We've all made enemies of one 

another over the years. It comes from time and contact. 

Such a terrible thing—to be bound together 

over such a span. Do you sometimes grow weary?" 

"Oh, yes," I said. I rose from my chair and went 

to the terrace doors to close them. Now that Ehran 

had finished with his cigarette, I found the chill air 

more than I could bear. It seeped into my bones today. 

I tried to blame it on the humidity, the gray sky, 

the wind. 

"Sometimes," he said softly, "I wonder if we all 

don't go a little mad from it. In our own ways, of 

course," 

215 


"How so?" 

"Harlequin's and my ongoing quarrel. Alachia's 

actions in Blood Wood. Your own rejection of your 

people for the Great Worms. Are not all of these insanity?" 

"It all depends on where you're looking from," I 

replied. 

He pushed himself away from the table. "I won't 

say anything to anyone about your being here," he 

said. "You may count on my discretion. By the way, 

whatever happened to young Oakforest? Glasgian, 

Página 125


you remember? He was seen coming up here, then 

he never came out. Where is he?" 

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said. 

"Maybe your spies got it wrong." 

"I doubt it. They're quite good at this sort of 

thing." 

"Well, he's not here." 

"Then you won't mind if I take a look—" 

"Yes, I would," I said quickly. "You're treading a 

fine line here, Ehran. Even if he were here, which 

he's not, it wouldn't be any of your business. Let's 

leave it at that. Shall we?" 

He gave another faint smile. "Very well, Aina," he 

said. "But this is a dangerous game you're playing." 

I walked to the door and opened it. "I know, but 

when has it ever not been?" 

As soon as the door shut, Caimbeui opened the 

door to his room and peered out. 

"I thought he'd never leave," he said. 

216 


"I can't believe you left me here to deal with 

him," I said. "And he knows about Glasgian." 

"Yes, I heard that." 

"Well, we've got to get him out of here," I said. 

"I just don't know if he's up to anything but the conventional 

means." 

"We may have no other choice." 

I nodded, then turned and walked over to my bedroom 

door and opened it. The room was still dark, 

the shades pulled. A wedge of light from the living 

room spilled across the bed, which was empty. I hit 

the switch on the wall, flooding the room with electric 

light. 

The room was empty. Glasgian Oakforest was 

gone. 

217 

24 

"He's gone," I said. 

"What?" 

"He's gone." 

Caimbeui elbowed past me into the room. 

"Maybe the bathroom?" he asked. 

I pointed to the open bathroom door. "Unless he's 

Página 126


thinner than I remember. Or he's hiding in the 

shower stall." 

Caimbeui went and checked in the stall. "No, not 

here." 

I sagged against the dresser facing the bed. 'This 

is very bad," I said. "What if he goes to Aithne? 

We're lost then." 

"I don't think he'll do that," Caimbeui said. He 

touched the bed where Glasgian had lain. "It's cold. 

He's probably been gone for a while. I suspect he 

didn't leave by the usual methods, because otherwise 

Ehran wouldn't have asked about him." 

"Maybe Ehran took him," I said. 

Caimbeui shook his head. "Not his style. Now, I'd 

expect it from Alachia, except she'd be here now 

crowing about it. And I don't think her network is as 

218 


sophisticated as Ehran's. What surprises me is that 

we haven't heard from Aithne yet." 

"Dumb luck," I said. "What are we going to do?" 

"Nothing," he replied. "For right now. Whoever 

has him will show their hand eventually, and if he 

got out of here himself, then I doubt we'll hear anything. 

He'll be too damn scared. After all, he's had 

a look at what happens to people who get on the 

wrong side of your faithful companion." 

"Don't call him that," I snapped. "I haven't seen 

him in millennia. I took care of him long ago. You 

know that. I'm tired of paying for that mistake. It 

won't just be me facing him this time. I'll have the 

support of the others." 

Caimbeui shrugged. "Perhaps," he said. "There's 

no telling what they'll do." 

I ran a hand across my scalp. "They've got to see 

what's happening. After you tell them about Maui, 

they'll understand. But what has me worried is how 

anyone got past those wards." 

Caimbeui didn't say anything. 

The rest of the day dragged on interminably. After 

the way the morning went, I kept expecting more 

unwelcome visitors. But they never arrived. 

The maids came and tidied the rooms, and I wondered 

which one of them was Ehran's spy. Or maybe 

all of them were. 

I jumped at every noise, and Caimbeul's annoying 

habits became more and more glaring. Penciltapping. 

Humming. Leg-jiggling. He twitched and 

219 


Página 127


fidgeted and moved around like a six-year-old needing 

to pee. 

I wondered why I'd ever had anything to do with 

him. 

The day of the Council meeting dawned clear and 

cold. The drizzle and gray skies that had continued 

for the last two days broke. It irked me that the session 

had been set up for late afternoon. I had to 

waste yet another day with the tension, boredom, 

and Caimbeul's habits. 

At four we began to get ready, and by five we 

were in the rented limo heading for the meeting. It 

was already beginning to grow dark as we finally 

reached the estate where the meeting was to take 

place. 

It was located west of the city. As the car swung 

into the wide gates flanking the drive, I saw that 

there were hundreds of rose bushes lining the drive. 

They were denuded of foliage. Their thorny canes 

stark and skeletal against the fading October 

sky. 

Several other limos were parked in front of the 

large house as we pulled up. There were also a couple 

of high-octane performance cars modified with 

body armor. 

"Looks like the joint's jumpin'," said Harlequin. 

"Nice cars. I wonder who they belong to." 

"Jinkies, Caimbeui, maybe you and the boys can 

go drag racing after the sock hop," I said. 

"You don't have to get snippy about it," he 

said. 

220 


"You're a gadabout," I said. "Utterly irresponsible. 

Can't you keep your mind on the matter at 

hand?" 

"Why should I?" he asked. "When you're perfectly 

capable of doing all the worrying for both of 

us." 

"Jerk." 

"Shrew." 

"Shmuck." 

"Harpy." 

I laughed. I couldn't help it. 

"Well, shall we go and meet the crowd?" Caimbeui 

asked. "I understand they've finished with the 

pagans and are moving on to the Christians." 

"I think they'll find us stringy and unpalat- 

Página 128

able." 

"One can only hope." 


•We were met at the door by a retinue of Surehand's 

Paladins. They were attired in their Crusader-ish armor 

and toting SMGs, pistols, and other sidearms and 

pieces of gear I knew nothing of. Such blind reliance 

on technology could get these boys in a lot of trouble, 

I thought. 

We were escorted into the massive foyer and 

down a wide hallway leading to the back of the 

house. More like a palace. Fifteen-foot ceilings, 

twelve-foot-wide hallways, heavy, cream-colored 

damask wallpaper, marble tile underfoot. The Paladins' 

boots made loud echoes against the floor. 

Doorways leading off the halls showed enormous 

221 


rooms decorated in luxurious fabrics, woods, and 

stone. 

I wondered whose property this was. It dwarfed 

Lugh Surehand's place in size and richness. I 

couldn't imagine Aithne here. Nor Ehran. It hardly 

seemed their style. Our invitation to the Council had 

mentioned only the time and location: six p.m. at 

Ozymandias. Caimbeui seemed to know where to 

go. 

At last we came to a set of doors at the end of the 

hallway. The lead Paladin opened the doors and announced 

us. 

"Aina Sluage and Caimbeui har lea Quinn," he 

said. 

I took a deep breath and stepped into the room. 

Caimbeui was close behind. 

Had I been Harlequin, I would have delighted at 

the expressions passing over those faces, but I 

was too nervous. I knew they wouldn't guess how I 

felt. None of them knew me well enough to see 

that. 

"Courage," I heard Caimbeui whisper in my 

ear. 

Fires burned in the hearths at either end of the 

hall. Oriental rugs were scattered over the inlaid 

wood floor. Oversized chairs and couches were arranged 

in comfortable groupings. That is, comfortable 

if you're expecting a hundred or so of your 

closest personal friends. 

At one end of the hall were a handful of the Council 

members. Lofwyr had changed from his black 

suit into a lurid peacock-blue satin that would have 

222 


done a pimp proud. He smiled and bowed slightly at 

me. I knew he'd probably remain neutral, no matter 

Página 129


what happened. Sometimes you just couldn't depend 

on dragons. 

Ehran was ensconced on one of the couches. He 

wore his usual black, a habit that I found a trifle annoying. 

As though wearing black made you somehow 

more imposing, or cool, or serious. Though it 

did contrast nicely with his white hair and cold blue 

eyes. We made eye contact, but I couldn't tell what 

he was thinking. It was as though our meeting the 

other day had never taken place. 

Sean Laverty was perched on the arm of one of 

the chairs. Unlike the other men, he was cleanshaven. 

His eyes were clear leaf-green, his hair auburn. 

I knew he was against the technological 

leanings of the Tir. Of the group, his garb was the 

simplest. A T-shirt and jeans with a jacket thrown on 

tqp. In one earlobe he wore a dangling silver dragon. 

I wondered what Lofwyr made of that. 

Sitting in the chair was Jenna Ni-Fairra. She was 

whispering something to Laverty as I approached 

the group. 

"Sean, Jenna," I said. 

"Aina," they replied in unison. I wondered for a 

moment if they were joined at the hip. 

"Did anyone miss me?" came a voice behind me. 

An all too familiar voice. I turned. Alachia. She 

glided over to Jenna and kissed her cheek. They 

were remarkably alike. Except for the coloring, they 

could have been twins. Where Alachia's hair was 

deep red, Jenna's was platinum blond. Alachia's 

223 


eyes were clear sapphire blue; Jenna's emerald 

green. But the face was the same. Delicate and fey. 

Unearthly beauty. What a bore. : 

"Why must you wear these things?" asked 

Alachia, grabbing Jenna's black leather jacket and 

giving it a shake. "Upstairs I know you have a closet 

full of ..." 

Jenna gave her a hard look, and Alachia laughed 

it off. "A mother's prerogative," she said lightly. 

She glanced around the room. "Well, it looks as if 

we're almost all here." 

Just then there was the sound of raised voices 

coming down the hall. We all turned. In a moment, 

the doors flew open. Aithne burst in with the Paladin 

guard hot on his heels. They tried to slow him down, 

but he thrust one hand up behind him and they flew 

back into the hall. 

"What the hell were you thinking of with those/ 

damn roses?" said Aithne. "Alachia, if this is youir 

sick idea of a jok—" 

Then he saw me. 

His face had been flushed. Now it went white. 

Página 130


"What the frag is she doing here?" he asked. His 

voice was cold. Utterly devoid of emotion. 

"Isn't it the nicest surprise?" said Alachia, coming 

up next to him and tucking her arm in his. "Aina 

asked Lugh to call a meeting of the Council. And he 

agreed." She leaned against Aithne and beamed at 

me. 

I wanted to throttle her. 

"I'm leaving," he said. "There is nothing that 

woman can say that will interest me in the least." 

224 


He swung around and headed toward the door. 

"You'd best not go," said Surehand. "I would 

look unfavorably upon it." 

Aithne stopped, then turned again, slowly. 

"And what is that supposed to be?" Aithne asked. 

"A threat?" 

"No," replied Surehand. "I don't want you to let 

old personal matters hinder your judgment of these 

events. If you leave, you give tacit approval to anything 

we decide." 

"Not if I leave under protest." 

"The result will be the same. We will make a decision, 

and you will have to live with it." 

Aithne glared at Surehand for a long moment. 

"Very well. This woman," he said, pointing at me, 

"is a treacherous bitch and nothing she says can be 

trusted." 

"So much for the impartial hearing," murmured 

Caimbeul. 

"Your taste in companions leaves much to be desired," 

Aithne said to Caimbeul. 

"People in glass houses," replied Caimbeul, looking 

pointedly at Alachia. Aithne glanced down and 

saw she was still attached to his arm. He jerked his 

arm away and stalked to one of the large arm chairs, 

where he flung himself down. 

"All right," he said. "What's this all about?" 

"Aina," said Lugh. "If you please." 

Caimbeul gave me a little pat on the back, ther 

went and took a seat on the couch next to Ehran 

They began a subtle war of who could sprawl on tht 

225 


couch most. Aithne refused to look at me, while 

Página 131


Jenna and Sean whispered and giggled. 

"As you all know," I began, "the magical forces 

have been on an upsurge for the past fifty or so 

years. Many of the old ways have returned, though 

there have been some unforeseen changes due to the 

technological state of this cycle. But that is neither 

here nor there. 

"In the past, great surges of magic have drawn the 

Enemy to this place. The Therans solved this by 

leading the world into the darkness of the kaers for 

five hundred years. But we all know the prices paid 

for those choices." 

I paused for a moment and glanced around the 

room. Ehran's expression was carefully blank. 

Caimbeui gave me a little wink. Alachia yawned and 

looked bored. 

"There have been two serious encounters with the 

Enemy in past months," I said. "Caimbeui defeated 

them on the metaplanes. Then, more recently, he 

told me about the encounter on Maui where the Enemy 

actually managed to get through a portal 

opened by kahunas of a tribe there during one of 

their blood rituals." 

"Did he say he actually drove them back?" asked 

Ehran. "Aina, you know how he likes to take credit 

for things he had nothing to do with." 

"I don't recall you being there," said Caimbeui. 

"News travels fast. Harlequin," said Ehran. "You 

always were a braggart." 

"Would you both just stop," I said. I paced a bit. 

226 


This was why I avoided them. All this petty bickering. 

We'd been in and out of each other's lives for 

so long that everyone knew each other's sore spots. 

Where to poke and prod. And yet, we still kept coming 

together again. 

"Who did what isn't important," I said. "The 

point is, the Enemy is coming back. And they're 

coming too soon. This world isn't ready. Its people 

don't understand a damn thing about what's 

happening. And we certainly haven't prepared 

them." 

"What do you think the Tir is?" asked Alachia. 

"We're creating a place where the strong will survive." 

"You mean where the elves will survive and everyone 

else on the planet can shift for themselves," 

I said. 

"What's wrong with that?" asked Jenna, ever her 

mother's daughter. 

"Well, if you don't mind billions of innocent peo- 

Página 132


ple suffering unimaginable deaths," I said. 

"Innocent blood has never bothered you before," 

interjected Aithne. 

I looked at him and narrowed my eyes. As though 

his loss had been greater than mine. 

-"Things change," I said at last. "So do people. 

Most people. But this is all beside the point. This 

isn't some academic discussion. I believe that one 

of the Enemy is already here. I don't know how he 

managed to come across. Perhaps in Maui. Or maybe 

there is another point of entry. All I know is that 

he is here." 

227 


There was a hush for a moment, then everyone 

began to ask questions. Lugh called for them to calm 

down. 

"How do you know it's the Enemy?" Lugh 

asked. 

"He has contacted me," I said. "First, there were 

dreams. Then I received a telecom communication. 

Two nights ago he attacked us in our hotel room 

here in Portland." 

"What do you know about this. Harlequin?" asked 

Surehand. 

"Just what Aina has told you. You know about 

the events in Maui," he said. This surprised me. I 

didn't know he'd told them about Maui. "I was there 

when the call came to Aina's place in Scotland. 

And I was there when it attacked us in the hotel 

room." 

"Perhaps it's just one," said Sean. "It would be 

easy enough to deal with." 

"I don't see what the big fuss is about," said Alachia. 

"We've defeated them before. We'll defeat 

them again." 

"Haven't you heard a word I've said?" I asked. 

"It's too early for them to be coming through. We're 

not ready. The world isn't ready. You've spent so 

much time playing at politics and nations that 

you've neglected the important things. It's as though 

we've left nuclear weapons for cavemen to play 

with. These people don't understand what's at stake. 

And they certainly don't comprehend the nature of 

the powers they're dealing with." 

"Now we get down to it," crowed Alachia. "All 

228 


this time going on about how much more pure and 

noble you are than us. You just don't want anyone 

using the power. What's the matter, Aina, scared 

someone will tread on your magical toes?" 

Página 133


I glanced over at Caimbeui, but he was busy trying 

to annoy Ehran. "No," I said. "But these magical 

spikes seem to be attracting the Enemy. As long as 

people capriciously use blood magic, the risk will 

grow." 

"You would know about blood magic," said 

Aithne. 

"Yes, and you should be smart enough to lay aside 

your hatred of me to see the larger issue at hand. We 

must stop this one and prevent the rest from coming 

through." 

"I think you're overestimating the danger," interjected 

Alachia. "Perhaps your experience is tinting 

/ your perspective." 

"Besides, we have plans," said Laverty. "Now is 

not a good time to reveal such secrets." 

"Have I been shut up with a bunch of lunatics?" 

I shouted. "You don't pick when the Enemy comes. 

They will come when the circumstances are right. 

The best we can do is slow that event down. Which 

means we must act now." 

I stopped then, realizing they weren't listening to 

me. They were staring gape-mouthed at something 

behind me. Slowly, I turned. 

A vortex of smoke was whirling up out of the 

floor in front of the fireplace. A shape uncoiled 

from inside the smoke and stepped forward. Ysrth- 

229 


grathe. Hanging limply in his arms was Glasgian 

Oakforest. 

"I do so love to make an entrance," he said as 

he dropped Glasgian on the floor. "But I know better 

than to overstay my welcome. Aina, it is so good 

to see you again. See, I've brought you a little 

present. I shall see you soon, my dear. 'Til we meet 

again." 

Then he disappeared. 

Lances of arcane fire cut through the space where 

he'd been a moment before. Aithne rushed to 

Glasgian's side. Surehand called for his Paladins. 

Sean and Jenna hovered behind Aithne asking if 

they could help. Ehran and Caimbeui had that odd, 

distracted look in their eyes, the faintest traces of 

energy crackling around them. 

I turned away from the sight of Aithne holding 

Glasgian's limp body. It was then that I saw 

Alachia's face. She had a small, knowing smirk on 

her face. And a notion so terrible filled my mind that 

I immediately pushed it away. I couldn't think such 

a thing. Not even of her. 

I spun away from the sight of her. Now Glasgian 

seemed to be coming around. When he saw that he , 

Página 134


was in his father's arms, his face crumpled and he I 

began to cry. Aithne cooed and cradled Glasgian in 

his arms until his sobs diminished into irregular hiccups. 

At last, Glasgian seemed to fall into another 

kind of stupor. 

Surehand suggested that Aithne have Glasgian 

carried up to a room, but Aithne refused and hugged 

Glasgian tightly to him. 

230 


"This is all your doing," he hissed at me. "This 

sort of thing follows wherever you go. I knew 

we shouldn't ever have anything to do with you 

again." 

"For heaven's sake, Aithne," said Lofwyr. "She 

didn't bring it here." 

"Yes, she did," he said. "That creature has followed 

her through space and time. It will destroy 

anyone around her. This isn't the Enemy. It's her enemy. 

It has come for her and I say we let it have her. 

She seeks to divert the issue. But we must see it for 

what it is. This is Aina's battle. Not ours. Let her 

deal with it." 

"I must agree with Aithne," said Alachia. "Obviously, 

Aina wants us to become involved with this 

personal matter. We don't know that she didn't conjure 

it up herself. After all, that was a specialty of 

hers, as I recall. This isn't about the world—it's 

abom her. 

She has turned her back on us. I say we let her 

shift for herself." 

I had my back to her, but I knew she had plastered 

a noble, righteously dignified expression on her 

face. 

Now they all would agree with her. 

"This is a terrible mistake," I said. "If I cannot 

stop him, he will bring .them all across. He has the 

power to do so." 

"Get her out of here," snarled Aithne. "If she says 

one more word I think I'll . . ." 

Caimbeui came and wrapped his jacket around 

me. I hadn't realized I'd been shivering. 

231 

Caroline Specter a 

"Let's go," he said. 

"But ..." 

"You've done all you could," he said. 

I let him lead me from the room. Our footsteps. 

echoed down the long hallway as we left. 

232 

Página 135

25 


"What am I going to do?" I asked. 

I was huddled in the back of the limo. Caimbeui 

gave the driver instructions to take us straight to the 

airport. 

"We'd best get out of here as quickly as possible," 

he said. 

"What about our things at the hotel?" I asked. 

"Leave them," he replied. "It's just clothes." 

"Where are we going?" 

"I don't know. The next possible flight out. I 

don't want Aithne or Alachia thinking they might 

want to have us arrested." 

"Arrested? What could they possibly arrest us 

for?" 

"You name it. All they have to do is convince 

Lugh to send out the order. They could lock us up 

and'keep us locked up for a long time. Have you forgotten 

when Alachia kept you imprisoned before? 

They would be able to justify it." 

I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jacket. 

I'd failed, I thought. They'd rejected me and my 

warnings. Now I would have to face Ysrthgrathe by 

233 


myself. I didn't know if I had the strength to fight 

him again. 

The limo's headlights illuminated row after row of 

dormant rose bushes. 

Thorns. 

So many thorns. 

The first flight we could book passage on was a 

small tour plane. They were doing a hop from Portland 

to Eugene, then on to a small airstrip near Crater 

Lake. After refueling there, the next leg was to 

Eureka. 

I hated small planes even more than large ones. 

So many things to go wrong, none of which I had 

any control over. How loathsome. 

Luckily, the leg from Portland to Eugene was 

quiet. While Caimbeui and I stretched our legs, they 

took on more passengers. Lots of back-to-nature 

types. A couple of humans who said they were go- | 

ing to Crater Lake to perform research. The rest 

were elves. Judging from their totems and tattoos, 

they all appeared to be involved with some kind of 

shamanistic magic. 

This annoyed me. These shamans^ 

Página 136


"Do you see?" I asked Caimbeui in a low whisper. 

"They just don't see the large way of things. With | 

them it's all power conferred through something 

else. They don't see that the power is in them." 

"You can't make them other than what they are," 

Caimbeui said. "They were shaped by a world 

where magic didn't exist. Their understanding of it 

234 


will always be limited. Maybe the next generation 

..." 

I frowned. "If we don't stop Ysrthgrathe, there 

might not be another generation." 

The plane circled over Crater Lake before landing 

on the small airstrip about five miles away. The shamans 

and the humans all filed off with their backpacks. 

I knew that Crater Lake had been sealed off 

for some time by the military. It amazed me that 

anyone would try to get close to it without some sort 

of clearance. 

Then it occurred to me—how stupid I was—that 

they just might have clearance. If what Dunkelzahn 

had told me about Crater Lake was true, then the Tir 

could very well be pulling in magicians here and 

there to help them. 

Caimbeui and I also got out at this stop. There 

was a two-hour layover. We followed the others into 

the tiny terminal. It was just one large room with a 

few benches. Through the plate glass window I saw 

two army jeeps with soldiers waiting outside. The 

shamans and the humans went immediately to them, 

gave some papers to the soldiers, then piled into the 

Jeeps. 

"How much do you know about what's happening 

down there at Crater Lake?" I asked Caimbeui. 

"Enough to know it would only upset you," he replied. 

"Are you hungry?" 

I nodded. "Starved," I said. "But it looks like 

there are only those vending machines over there. 

235 


Stale, dried miso soup, dehydrated beans and rice, 

maybe an old candy bar." 

"Have no fear, madam," he said. "We have two 

hours, and I happen to know of a place nearby that 

has fabulous food and a hell of a view." 

He led me outside and hailed what had to be the 

only taxi for five counties. The driver actually 

agreed to let us hire him for the next two hours. 

Caimbeui gave him the name of the restaurant, and 

we were off. 

He hadn't lied about the view. We were at the top 

Página 137


of one of the higher peaks in the area. From this 

vantage we could see the surrounding countryside. 

Off in the distance was a blue glow that made me 

very nervous. 

"Is that what I think it is?" I asked Caimbeui. 

"Shhh, no questions now," he said. "Just have 

something to eat and think about getting out of here 

after dinner. We'll talk later." 

It annoyed me, but perhaps he was right. No matter 

what was happening, I couldn't stop it. Not now, 

at any rate. 

Slowly, I began to relax. There were mostly military 

types in the restaurant. Some civilians, but they 

looked to be locals. It was an old-fashioned Mom 

and Pop kind of place. Mostly vegan dishes, with 

one or two meat entrees for the non-elven types. 

Given the makeup of the/trowd, I suspected they 

didn't do a lot of business with the beef. 

No one gave us much of a second glance. A little 

odd, unless they were used to seeing strangers. 

236 


Caimbeui ordered some wine, but I declined. I 

wanted to be as sharp as possible until we made it 

out of the Tir. We lingered a bit over dessert, but 

then it was time to head back to the airstrip. 

Our driver had apparently gotten something from 

the kitchen, because the cab smelled of eggplant ra- 

tatouille. 

I shut my eyes as the cab headed away from the 

restaurant and down the hill. I must have dozed off 

for a moment, because the next thing I remember 

was being thrown to the floor. Caimbeui was cursing; 

the driver was screaming. 

"What's happening?" I yelled as I pushed myself 

off the floor. 

"Keep going!" shouted Caimbeui. 

The driver didn't answer but continued to scream. 

I poked my head up, trying to see what was going 

on. The driver reached forward and pulled something 

from under the seat. A gun. Still yelling, he 

began to fire it through the window. Just as he shot, 

I looked. 

There, illuminated by the cab's headlights, was 

Ysrthgrathe standing in the middle of the road. Then 

the glass shattered, and he was broken into a million 

fragmented images. 

I grabbed the door handle and yanked. It flew 

open and I fell out after it, sprawling on the rough 

asphalt of the road on my hands and knees. 

"Ah, Aina," Ysrthgrathe said. "Don't you remember? 

You don't have to kneel to me." 

Página 138


I pushed myself off the ground. There were 

scrapes on my hands. The blood welled out of them 

237 


and stung. In the distance I could hear something. I 

thought it sounded like a baby's cry. Then I realized 

it was the driver. 

"Most annoying, that noise," said Ysrthgrathe. In 

a flash, he slid across the small distance between 

him and the driver's door. Ripping the door off its 

hinges, he then pulled the driver out by his neck. 

Slowly, he began to squeeze. 

The driver's face turned red, then purple. His eyes 

began to bulge, and he grabbed frantically at his 

neck. His feet began to spasm and became entangled 

in Ysrthgrathe's robe. 

"This is certainly sweet," said Ysrthgrathe. "But 

it really isn't up to my usual. Of course, I have 

only the faintest memories of that, now. You have 

deprived me for so long. And you're not nearly 

as fond of this one as you might be. Perhaps the 

other . .." 

He closed his hand then, and I heard the bones in 

the driver's neck snap and pop like firecrackers. 

Then Ysrtbgrathe tossed him away like a used-up 

toy. 

Caimbeui emerged from the back of the passenger 

side of the cab then. He had a black eye and a nasty 

cut on his lip. It was beginning to swell, making his 

mouth look lopsided. It looked like he hadn't fully 

recovered his senses. 

"Go," I said. "He wants me." 

Caimbeui shook his head. "He can't possibly deal 

with both of us. Not now." 

"You should listen to her," said Ysrthgrathe. "But 

then, I wouldn't have as much fun if you leave. I can 

_ 238 


taste how she cares for you. Her fear for your safety 

is so sweet, but really, I must have more." 

With that, he pushed his arms forward. A solid 

beam of black energy shot out from them. It hit 

Caimbeui full in the chest, sending him flying backwards. 

I heard him cry out in pain and could smell 

the odor of burning clothes and skin. 

"No!" I shouted. 

His eyes glowed and he smiled. Another lash of 

energy cracked like whip and I heard the bones of 

Caimbeul's legs snap. 

"No!" I screamed again. Was he going to break 

Página 139


Caimbeui bone by bone? 

Then there was a roaring in my ears, like the 

sound of jet engines. The blood was warm in my 

hands. It tickled me. Calling to me. Asking me to 

come and play again. To use it as I once had. 

I dug my nails into my palms, wincing slightly, 

and then I spoke the words. A language long dead to 

this modern world. My mother tongue, that had 

never left me and that would always be my secret 

heart. 

Ribbons of blood danced from my fingertips and 

wove themselves around Ysrthgrathe. He roared in 

anger at this, but I laughed. Oh, I had been careful 

for so long. It felt wonderful to let the power out. To 

revel in it again. I let it take hold of me. Slide 

through me. Pill me. Fill the void inside. 

Soon, Ysrthgrathe was encased in a blood-cocoon. 

Using one hand to control the cocoon, with the other 

I began to cast another spell. But Ysrthgrathe wasn't 

so easily controlled. He shot into the air, dragging 

239 


me along. We flew above the trees, and the upper 

branches scratched and scraped at my legs. 

I grabbed at the blood ribbons with both hands to 

steady myself. What is he up to? I wondered. I 

looked about and saw that he was flying us straight 

toward Crater Lake. 

If we went much further, we'd be shot down by 

the Tir military for certain. Cursing, I let go of the 

blood ribbons. Ysrthgrathe shot ahead, and I fell. I 

was battered and bruised by tree limbs. It took me a 

moment before I could cast a flying spell. 

I flew up to the top of the trees and peered 

around. 

"Looking for me?" came Ysrthgrathe's voice 

above me. 

I looked up. His head was free from the cocoon, 

but the rest of his body was still encased. He spat 

out some words, and the cocoon shattered. It sent 

drops of blood flying everywhere. My face and 

clothes were spattered with it. 

"What's that old saying?" Ysrthgrathe asked. 

"Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, 

shame on me?" 

I didn't reply, just furiously tore at my wrist 

with my teeth. How I yearned for a knife at that moment. 

Oh, for the power I'd lost. For the power to 

come. 

"This is most annoying," Ysrthgrathe said. 

"You've changed. You're not at all like you were before. 

Página 140


"Where is your fear? It was so sweet and delicious. 

Your pain? Your agony? Have you forgotten 

240 


the dark years of your torment already? I remember 

them as if they were yesterday. 

"Your pain, my pleasure. Think of what I can 

offer you. Don't you recall? The power. Imagine 

what you could be here with that power now. They 

would be forced to listen to you. You could make 

them bend to your will. They would have to do your 

bidding." 

And I was tempted. 

It had been so many years since I'd felt anything 

close to the sensation of the power. Such a unity of 

self and soul. Body and mind. Maybe only the absinthe 

had come close. But even that joy was fleeting. 

My blood sang to be used. To be taken again. 

From Crater Lake I could feel the pull of even 

greater power. It sang to me. 

Take me. 

Use me. 

"Yes," he said. "Think of it. This world can't even 

imagine what the power is. They play at magic like 

a game. They don't understand. But you do, Aina. 

You've always understood the true nature of the gift. 

It's in your blood. Take my gift." 

\ foolish mistake. 

I hadn't thought him so clumsy. So obvious. To go 

over old ground again. 

"Oh, dear," I said. "What was it you said? Fool 

me once ..." 

The blood had been running into my palms. It 

writhed, then began to whirl. It bubbled over my fin- 

241 


gertips and began to slide toward the ground. It 

wanted me to use it. 

It craved that. 

I craved that. 

So I let us have what we wanted. 

From over the horizon, the blue glow from Crater 

Página 141


Lake became brighter. The power surged into me. 

And this time, this time, I didn't refuse it. 

The spell burst out of me. It sang and jumped 

from my lips. Insects flew into the sky in a great 

cloud. The bones of long-dead animals rose up and 

began to circle about Ysrthgrathe. The insects joined 

them, and soon the blood danced out of my hands 

and mingled with the bones and insects. 

Surrounding Ysrthgrathe. Encasing him. 

"Aina," he said. His voice was a soft whisper, but 

somehow I could hear it above the buzzing of the 

wasps. It was inside me. In my mind, like someone 

lurking at a window. "Aina, don't turn me away. I 

shan't forgive you this time. This time I will take everything 

away." 

"Go ahead and try," I said. I released the spell 

then. Let it surge out of me. Out of my soul. Out of 

the centuries of solitude and loneliness. From the 

pain of my loss and sadness. 

And, oh, it made such a lovely sight. 

Ysrthgrathe became darker and darker, until I felt 

as if the very light was being drawn into him. Then, 

in the matter of a nanosecond, there was an immense 

radiance that blinded me. 

When I could see again, there was nothing left of 

the insects, or the bones, or the blood, or of 

242 


Ysrthgrathe. In the sky there was the faint azure 

glow from Crater Lake, dimmer this time. 

Then, there was only the faint twinkling of the 

stars. 

243 

26 

"Where will you go now?" asked Caimbeul. 

We were standing in the Orly airport. It was some 

three weeks after I'd faced Ysrthgrathe for the last 

time. 

I had found Caimbeul unconscious from the blow 

Ysrthgrathe had given him. I'd healed him, and then 

we'd gone looking for the authorities to notify them 

about the cab driver's death. The tale Caimbeul had 

spun was impressive, even by his usual standards. 

We finally got out of Tir Taimgire the next day. 

I contacted Dunkelzahn and told him about what 

had happened. In dragon-like fashion, he merely 

nodded and accepted what I said. If he had any other 

Página 142


opinions, he kept them to himself. Though he did invite 

me to stay and visit. 

Caimbeul and I decided to go to the Riviera. Perhaps 

it was the foolishness of age, but we both 

thought there might still be something between us. 

By the time we parted at Orly, we knew that whatever 

had been there was best left in the past. 

"Where will you go now?" he asked again. 

"I think I shall travel for a bit," I said. "No place 

244 


too interesting. I think I've had enough interesting 

things in my life for a while. I know that one day the 

Enemy will come again, but now that Ysrthgrathe is 

gone, I feel ... safer. 

"Maybe they were right. Maybe it was my problem. 

Perhaps I've been wrong." 

Caimbeul shrugged. He'd become very Gaelic 

during our visit. 

"I've always thought your instincts were pretty 

good," he said. He reached out and pulled me to 

him. The kiss he gave me was long, and hot, and bittersweet. 

It was some six months later that I made it back 

to Arran. 

It was spring. 

The land had turned green again. The wind blew 

from the south, bringing the delicate odor of grass, 

peat, and heather to me. 

I opened the house up, flinging wide the windows 

to drive out the inevitable mustiness. Caimbeul had 

stayed here at some point while I was gone. I saw a 

few things were out of place. How like him, I 

thought. 

I tapped the print bar on my telecom, and material 

began 1,0 spew out. 

Since I'd put a hold on the dailies and the magazines, 

I wondered what this glut could be. 

Frowning, I picked up the first sheet. It was an article 

about Aztechnology. There were numerous 

articles about Aztechnology. They came from mainline 

papers as well as obscure, paranoid, end-of- 

245 


the-world publications. Shaking my head, I read 

another and another and another. 

There were articles about many unrelated events. 

They were scattered across the globe, and these arti- 

Página 143


cles were in Chinese, French, German, Swahili, Japanese, 

and many other languages. 

Mostly, they were about random occurrences of 

mania. A woman goes crazy and kills her children. 

There is no explanation and she doesn't remember 

the event even happening. Later, she takes her own 

life, scrawling images of obscene monsters in her 

own blood on the prison walls. 

A shaman loses control of a spell. Ten people are 

killed, including the shaman. A witness says it 

looked as if the shaman had changed into something 

else the moment before the spell went out of control. 

There were more. 

Each told a similar tale. 

I read them all, letting each slip to the floor until 

I stood there empty-handed. But there was still one 

more. I pulled it out. A letter from Dunkelzahn. 

Aina, 

In light of our last conversation, I thought these might 

be of interest to you. By the way, I've been keeping track 

of these things, and on the night you told me about, there 

was a spike at Crater Lake. 

Dunkelzahn 

I stayed there, staring off into space for a long 

time. Then suddenly I couldn't bear to stay inside 

any longer. 

The sun was going down as I left the house. There 

246 


was a bit of a nip in the air. Winter had not yet completely 

let go. But I didn't feel the cold. 

I felt numb. As though encased in amber. Fossilized. 

Oh, what a fool I'd been. Thinking to protect 

them all from the Enemy. To warn them. What ego. 

What hubris. 

For I knew now that I had done the very thing I'd 

warned them against. 

I had used the power wantonly. Wastefully. And in 

so doing I'd made it easier for the Enemy to come 

across. 

I realized now that Ysrthgrathe had sacrificed 

himself. His defeat was too easy. He'd played me. 

Played my emotions, manipulated me all along until 

I couldn't resist. It was his revenge. For he knew 

that nothing would bring me greater pain than to live 

with the knowledge that I'd had the means to stop 

them, and had let anger and fear and foolishness rule 

me instead. 

My chest felt tight. There was nothing for me to 

Página 144


do now but prepare. Prepare for that day which was 

as inevitable as death. 

I stared up at the sky. The sun had set, yet a pale 

radiance still lingered. Then it began to rain. Black 

drops coming from a clear twilight sky. 

I'stayed there for a long time, letting the rain 

wash over me. 

247 

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