Chapter 10
I slept poorly, as usual. The nightmares this time were more coherent, flashbacks to the siege of Angkor Wat during the Shadow War. The battle in which I’d lost the only woman I’d ever loved, as she sacrificed herself to give the few of us left alive a chance to escape. I’d been too badly injured to help, and could only watch as she walked out to face her death.
I’d drunk enough before bed that, during the dream, it had felt like it was happening to someone else and I was just observing it unfold from a distance, but when I finally woke up, the huge scar which ran from my right pectoral, over the shoulder, and down my back to halfway down my right thigh was throbbing, and I was soaked in sweat.
I needed a long few minutes to shake it off and collect myself, putting those memories back in the past where they belonged, before I could get out of bed. But at least I’d slept through the night. Disturbing as the dream was, it didn’t wake me up before dawn, and I felt rested enough to risk the Otherworld.
I really hated going there without a guide. I was one of the foremost experts on Sidhe and its tribes in the Arcanum, yet no human could possibly learn all the rules and dangers of the homeland of the Fae, even with a sorcerer’s extended lifetime. But Aengus was unavailable, and there was no other Faerie in the area I trusted enough to ask to escort me.
With a heavy sigh, I dragged myself out of bed and had a hearty breakfast of eggs, toast, and bacon, which I shared with Roxana. Then I got ready for a trip across the veil.
Manannán mac Lir and his brothers, Bron and Ceite, had been the sworn protectors of the veil since the end of the Faerie Wars over a thousand years ago. While no one in the Arcanum seemed to know exactly what those duties consisted of, at least as far as I’d been able to find in my past research on them, our records seemed to suggest they had the power to control it in various ways, including establishing fixed portals between the worlds and even closing it off to non-Faeries, to prevent potential invasions from Earth.
There had never been an invasion attempt, as the various Treaties between the Arcane Court and the major Fae tribes had held the peace, but now that humanity had progressed to industrialized warfare and nuclear weapons, there was a reasonable fear that, should humanity at large learn of their existence, such an invasion might be in the cards at last. That was one of the reasons both sides took the continued secrecy of the magical world so seriously, and why I’d been subject to a Tribunal for initiating multiple humans on my own authority without first clearing it with the Court.
But regardless, the three sons of Lir took their duties very seriously, seeing themselves as the only true defense standing between their people and potential apocalypse. So they were extremely secretive, and wary of discussing even the most basic aspects of the veil with anyone. We sorcerers knew quite a lot about the nature of ley-lines, the veins of magical energy running throughout Earth, but the veil was largely a mystery. And it would stay that way: Manannán and his brothers had agreed to meet with me, but I was almost certain they would conduct their own survey and report only what they decided I needed to know.
I honestly had no idea what kind of reception I was going to get. I’d never met any of the sons of Lir before. Given that I’d been invited I could safely assume that the basic rules of Fae hospitality would apply, but beyond that I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t even know much about the part of the Otherworld they called home: Emain Ablach, the Isle of Apples, was famed for its pleasant weather and bountiful, delicious food, and its inaccessibility to visitors. Getting to the island required crossing the Sea of Honey, a vast expanse of monster-infested water to the south of Tír na nOg. To my knowledge, no unescorted human had ever successfully attempted the voyage and returned to tell the tale.
With my invitation I should be escorted to and from the island, so I wasn’t terribly worried about the journey itself. But it meant there were few firsthand accounts of trips to Emain Ablach in the Arcanum’s records, and none that told me what I could expect once I made landfall.
I didn’t even know what weather I’d face on the trip, so just in case I put on a cable-knit sweater over a plain grey button-down shirt, and my nicest pair of jeans. It’s always easier to remove layers when it’s warm than to add layers you didn’t bring with you when it’s cold. For shoes, I grabbed a well-broken-in pair of hiking boots, as I figured there’d be some walking. There was always some walking in the Otherworld.
Under my shirt I strapped on my Glock in the Enigma system I’d bought from Annette; I’d worn it for the entire second day of my recent shooting course and been impressed. Besides the benefits of increased draw consistency and improved concealment she’d mentioned, which has served me well in my encounter with the štrigon yesterday, I’d also discovered it was a lot more comfortable to wear all day than a standard belt-mounted holster. I hoped it would make for a much more pleasant experience hiking in the Otherworld than on previous occasions.
To my belt, I attached a leather carrier behind my left hip for a couple extra magazines loaded with custom 10-millimeter anti-Faerie rounds, and the clinch pick sheathed in its customary spot left of the buckle. Around my neck, tucked into my shirt against my skin, went a simple chain with a golden pendant in the shape of a tree within a circle—the spell tied to it would warn me of a magical attack by heating the metal against my skin. And I slipped a silver ring engraved with Celtic knotwork onto my left index finger to serve as a focus for any spells I needed to cast.
On Earth, I could pull power directly from the ley-lines, but in the Otherworld there were no ley-lines; all magic emanated from the veil, which non-Faeries couldn’t easily manipulate. I could pull power from the wellspring, I supposed, but that took a lot of effort and I wasn’t sure I could control it anyway. Instead, if I needed to cast any spells, whether generating a simple shield to throwing fire and lightning, I’d have to draw in the latent magical energy that flowed through everything in the Otherworld, and for that I needed a focus. The ring was handy here on Earth, but essential for doing any magic across the veil.
I put another ring, made of dull grey iron unadorned by any pattern, onto my right ring finger. I’d found this one recently, in the bottom of my footlocker—it had been so long since I’d seen it that I’d actually forgotten I owned it. A gift from one of my early mentors, a rector named Otto Sauer, it stored a spell that I’d never actually used, a paralysis hex attuned to Faeries. It wouldn’t do much good against the High Fae, but I’d once seen Otto use the same spell to immobilize a mad djinn that had been preying on Arcanum sorcerers across Europe in the 1880s.
Finally, I pulled on my sorcerer’s coat, which obligated any Fae I encountered to abide by the treaties they had with the Arcane Court, which could well be the difference between life and death on the other side of the veil. And since I was going as an official envoy, it was essential.
I checked myself out in the mirror, spinning to confirm that my equipment was all well-hidden, and nodded in satisfaction. The Enigma was almost cheating; even bending and moving didn’t reveal any telltale bulges of a concealed gun. I slipped a few protein bars and a small bottle of water into my coat pockets, then headed downstairs.
Henri showed up for work while I was still on my first cup of coffee.
“Good morning, boss,” he greeted me.
I just grunted in acknowledgement; I’m not much of a morning person. I just took another sip of coffee as I leaned against the front counter.
“How long are you going to be gone?”
“Hard to say.” I shrugged. “You know that time works differently on that side of the veil. Depending on how long things take over there, and what route I take back, might be twenty minutes. Or a week.”
“Fair enough.” He nodded as he slipped out of his own coat, hung it on the coat rack, and poured himself a mug from the coffee pot. “I’ll hold down the fort until you’re back, however long that is.”
“Thanks,” I said. “And would you mind getting that laptop set up for me if you get a chance? I haven’t had time.”
“No problem.”
I checked the clock on the wall and decided I had time for another cup of coffee before I needed to get going.
“How’d you sleep?” Henri asked as I filled my mug.
“Like usual,” I grunted. “Just me and the nightmares. Same old, same old.”
Henri looked concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you should find someone to talk to.”
“I’ve already told you how I feel about therapy.”
“So why not just talk to another sorcerer?”
“The last sorcerer I opened up to about my nightmares, and the things I’d done to earn them,” I quietly replied, “was Samantha Carr. We both know how that turned out.”
“Ah,” Henri said. “Well, I get why you’d have a problem trusting fellow sorcerers after that, especially with everything that happened with Johannes right afterward. But I promise, not everyone is plotting to manipulate and betray you, Quinn. Your friends just want to help you. How about Aengus?”
I snorted. “Aengus is my best friend, true, but he’s also a Faerie. I doubt he’d understand why killing tens of thousands of people for the greater good weighs on my soul. The Fae tend to see that kind of thing as just the cost of doing business.”
“Okay, then. Don’t talk to anyone. Keep it all bottled up inside, like you’ve done so far. But you have to find a better way to sleep through the night. What about sleeping pills?”
“Don’t work.” I shook my head. “The problem isn’t getting to sleep; it’s staying asleep through the dreams. And pills don’t seem to do anything about that—I’ve tried. If anything, they make the nightmares worse.”
“Couldn’t you make a potion or something that would take away the dreams?” he asked.
“No.” I shook my head again. “Dreams are products of thought and memory. With very, very limited exceptions, it’s taboo for Arcanum sorcerers to influence thoughts with magic, to stop anyone from messing with free will. I doubt anyone would object to something like that for my personal use, but I wouldn’t even know how to go about crafting it. No one in the Arcanum studies mind magic like that.”
“Hm.” Henri nodded. “Then I guess you’re right—your only option is to keep drinking yourself to sleep every night.” He looked at me with an eyebrow raised. “Or, you know, you could get off your high horse and give therapy a shot. Hey, I bet I even know a therapist who already knows you’re a sorcerer, so you wouldn’t be breaking any rules by talking to him. Isn’t that convenient?”
“Quit it,” I grumbled. “We’ve talked about this.”
“Sure,” he said, “we’ve talked. And you’ve given a dumb answer why not. Fellow sorcerers, Aengus—fair enough, I get it. But Peter is a viable option. You could at least give it a shot. Talking to him has to be better than a bottle of whisky every evening.”
“Mm,” I said, refusing to engage further. “I think we need a new shop rule about talking about stuff like this before I’ve even finished my coffee.”
“Fine.” He chuckled, holding his hand up in a surrender posture. “I’ll stop. But you should think about it.”
I sipped my drink in silence as he bustled around, getting ready to open up for the day.
As I drained the last sip, Henri extended his hand. “Give me the cup; I’ll wash it so you can get going.” He’d struggled with tasks like that when he’d first left the hospital; it’s surprisingly difficult to wash dishes single-handed. But now it was second nature; it’s amazing how readily the human mind adapts to its circumstances.
“Thanks,” I grunted. “Nothing else for it, I suppose. Time for a hike. If I’m not back in a couple weeks, call Rachel Liu.”
He nodded. “Will do. But try to make it back before then; our lessons are just starting to get good.”
I snorted. “Fair enough. I’ll do my best.”
I headed back upstairs to my tiny studio apartment and locked the door at the top of the stairs behind me, then regarded the doorway between the main room and the small bathroom. I’d recently replaced it, the new one made of solid hawthorn. It was an unusual wood for a door; I’d had to custom order it from a specialty shop for an absolutely insane price. But it had a useful quality: hawthorn interacts directly with the veil. It grows in places where the veil is thin, which makes it the most natural substance to use as a focus for a portal to the Otherworld.
I focused for an instant and let my magical senses come to the fore. I felt the veil—unlike ley-lines, the veil is everywhere on the earth, an invisible barrier between two worlds separated not by space but by magic. Normally, the wards which sorcerers use to defend their homes from magical attack would stand between me and it, ensuring no portals to or from the Otherworld could materialize in this protected space. But when I’d upgraded my defenses following the events back in August, I’d put in a backdoor which let me build a gate through the veil, using the hawthorn bathroom door as a focus. And normally, on Earth, I could only open a portal through to the point in the Otherworld that corresponded to where I actually stood. But that was the point of the hawthorn: it let me direct portals through it to whatever crossing point I chose, so long as I knew it well enough to find through the veil.
I’d intended it to serve as a potential escape route should the shop ever come under overwhelming attack, but right now it also meant that I wouldn’t have to either dismantle my wards or go somewhere else to travel to Tir na nÓg, the homeland of the Tuatha Dé. And that I could travel directly to the Sea of Honey.
With practiced effort, I slipped my mind through the wards to touch the veil itself, and with a wave of my right hand the door to the stairs was replaced by a glowing gateway of pure light. Given how long it had been since I’d last been there, it took a moment to find the standing stone I remembered, but after a few seconds the bright light resolved itself into sun-drenched shoreline with a gravel beach giving way to white-foam breakers and bright blue water stretching to the horizon. To the left of the doorway I could see, just at the edge of my field of view, a single small, gnarled hawthorn tree next to a large menhir, a grey stone pillar covered in faded carvings.
I watched the scene for a minute or two, to see if I’d have to deal with anyone who might be in the area on the other side. Seeing no one but some sea birds flying over the waves in the distance, I shrugged and stepped through to the Otherworld.