Robyn Bachar: Blood, Smoke and Mirrors

I remembered not to stare at the council, which would have been really rude, and kept my gaze lowered to stare somewhere around their feet. They were dressed in their finest, glittering and shining bright enough to be their own light source. As I studied the latest in faerie formal footwear I noticed an additional, unexpected pair of shoes standing behind the council and off to the side: a scuffed pair of black combat boots. Despite my better judgment, my curiosity got the better of me and I let my gaze travel upwards. Black duster, black pants, black shirt-the man almost blended completely into the shadows around him, which normally would’ve hinted at a sorcerer, but I knew the faerie council wouldn’t trust one to stand behind them within fireball range.

It had to be a guardian, and my heart sank as I realized it was Lex. There was a casual air about him as he stood with his hands in his coat pockets, and the rest of his appearance complemented his laid-back manner. Unlike last night, his shoulder-length light brown hair was unbound and extra stubble lined his jaw. Lex was watching me, and he gave me an encouraging smile. Flustered, I tore my gaze away, concentrating instead on the figure kneeling with its head bowed low in front of the trio of thrones.

The person’s face was hidden by the hood of a long black cloak. Yuck, must be a sorcerer . Sorcerers tend to lean toward wardrobes befitting wizards in fantasy stories-long robes, pointy hats, gnarled wooden staffs topped with crystals and the like. Someone really needs to tell them that they are not Gandalf, and they need to join the twenty-first century with the rest of us. I noticed a slender man in a dark gray business suit standing behind the sorcerer, but I didn’t recognize him either.

Once we reached the other candidate I knelt as well, trying to look as graceful as I could manage.

“Greetings, Catherine Marie Morrow,” a voice in front of me intoned. I flinched at the sound of my True Name-usually I go by Catherine Baker. I’ve gone to great lengths to hide my True Name from the magical world, and here it was being shared in front of every damn faerie in the hemisphere. Great. My reaction was to be expected, but out of the corner of my eye I noticed the black-cloaked figure had flinched as well. I turned my head toward him as he looked toward me. I peered into the depths of that black hood and recognized him, much to my immediate shock, and my brain shut down as my mouth took over.

“Aw, hell no,” I growled. Leaping to the side, I knocked him off his feet and pinned him to the floor, and the man glared up at me with a mix of shock and hatred. “’Lo, Dad.”

I heard something like the rustling of a thousand wings at once and everything around me went black.

Throughout my life there have been several times when I woke up and swore that my entire body hurt. Generally I knew the sources of the agonizing pain: moving furniture, an unusually brisk self-defense class, too much drinking. That pain was nothing compared to the complete and utter ache that dragged me back to consciousness, my mind kicking and screaming in protest the entire way.

I blinked my bleary eyes open and discovered a thick layer of blur covered everything above me. Concussion was my first thought, and I reached up to check the status of my broken head. My fingertips brushed my eyelashes and I realized my glasses were missing, which revealed the source of the blurriness. I fished around me for them but my hands found nothing but cool marble floor in my general vicinity. Slow and cautious I sat up, and the room did a lurching spin around me until it righted itself.

“Glasses,” I demanded of no one in particular. One of those multicolored blobs in my field of vision had to be a person.

“Here,” Lex said. My glasses were set into my outstretched hand and I put them on. He knelt at my side, and I glared at him. The hall had emptied out, leaving only the three Council members in front of me. Glancing behind me I saw both Portia and Tybalt, their faces grim, and that scared the hell out of me. Then I remembered why I’d been hit with the unholy huge whammy that knocked me out in the first place. I swore a vicious curse and leapt to my feet, rounding on my father who stood silently several feet away with the man in the charcoal suit standing behind him like a shadow. My hand went for the hilt of my sword, and I looked down in surprise when I didn’t find it there. Before I could do anything further Lex grabbed my arms and dragged me backwards.

“Calm down,” he warned.

“Lemme go!”

“Catherine, no,” Portia snapped as she appeared in front of me. The fact that she actually used my first name gave me a moment of pause-Portia’d never done that in the entire time I’ve known her. I took a deep breath and unclenched my fists.

“Murderer!” I spat at him instead.

“I am not responsible for what happened to your mother,” he replied calmly. It was the first time I’d heard my father’s voice in eighteen years. Amazing how much he sounded the same.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. You let your vamp buddies tear her apart like a piñata, you bastard.”

The assembled faeries gasped at the language. Faeries don’t swear, or at least they don’t approve of the use of “oaths and curses” as they call them. I was too furious to care, and the angrier I am the more horrifying my language becomes. Lex gave my arms a squeeze in silent warning to control myself, but I continued to ignore him.

The memory was still so raw and painful, as though it had happened yesterday instead of over a decade ago. I could still see her broken body on the floor of our living room, her eyes wide and terrified, frozen forever, and still smell the awful stench of blood and death and worse. Fury burned inside me, and the floor beneath my feet trembled with it. There were no streetlights to attack here with my excess power, and that power was looking for somewhere else to escape.

“Lord and Lady, I will make you pay for what you’ve done.” My voice was deadly calm, and as the words left my throat something around me seemed to pop. I knew what I’d done-I’d sworn a vow in a faerie mound, a kinslaying vow no less-and invoked my gods at the same time. I was far too angry to care.

The faeries, however, did care.

“ENOUGH!” The word boomed through the room like a crack of thunder. I felt everyone around me step away as I turned and gave my full attention to the speaker. I knew who she was, even though I’d never met her in person before: Cecelia of the Silver Crescent, a truly stunning sight to behold. A frost fairy like my cousins, she looked as though she had been created from silver and moonlight, with iridescent hair falling almost to the floor and wings that glowed with their own light. Large blue eyes stared at me, disapproving, and I had the good sense to feel guilty under her gaze.

“I think you have interrupted these proceedings quite enough, Mistress Morrow,” Cecelia scolded, and I blushed redder than a genetically modified tomato. I would’ve said I was sorry, but I was certain that opening my mouth would get me zotted into unconsciousness again, and I wasn’t sure I’d live through another blast. The faerie folded her silvery hands in her lap and leaned back into her seat, appearing relaxed and unaffected by the fact that I’d been ready to stab the face off my father’s head just a few short moments ago.

“Both of you have come here to petition for the open position of liaison between the realm of the Faerie and the Midwestern region of the United States of the realm of Earth. The council will initiate the new liaison during your next full moon. You will be tested during this time to determine your adequacy for the position.” Her blasé tone did not make me feel more comfortable, and I was nervous about what they had in mind for testing. It was a good bet I wouldn’t need my #2 pencils ready for it.