C. E. Murphy - Wayfinder

“I’ll get my car.” Kelly ran for the parking lot, but Dickon’s voice stopped her before she’d taken more than a few steps.

“My Bronco’s right there.” He strode toward an oversized vehicle in one of the nearest available parking spaces, Dafydd in his wake. Aerin surged to her feet again, hurrying after them. The vestiges of her glamour fell away entirely before they reached the Bronco, but not by much: Dafydd sprang into it and turned to catch Ioan as Aerin thrust him forward, then crawled into the SUV herself. Lara caught a glimpse of them all through the lightly tinted windows. At a glance they were unearthly in their beauty, but not quite inhuman, not with the windows just slightly marring their visibility. Her knees buckled, relief at the momentary reprieve, and within seconds she and Kelly joined the Seelie and Dickon in his vehicle, both human women crowding into the front seat. Lara put the staff behind her and said, “Don’t touch that,” to the three in back.

Dickon came around to the driver’s side and climbed in, hands working against the steering wheel as he stared at the three alien beings arranging themselves in the Bronco’s backseat. For a long time, no one spoke, until Dafydd finally asked, “What made you change your mind?”

“I’m not sure I have. You said you couldn’t heal,” Dickon said accusingly. “How’d you stabilize Reg?”

“It is not a healing, but a joining with the earth to offer him strength and stability. Lara, why do I understand this man? He speaks your language, not mine.”

“Oh, sure, a joining with the earth,” Dickon said under Lara’s, “I don’t know. Maybe our magics working together did something.”

“Or perhaps your world, in accepting Aerin’s magic, has also granted her the understanding of your tongues. If one of us spoke a third language, we could test the theory,” Dafydd offered. Lara felt disbelief cross her face and bit back a protest as Dafydd grinned. “I know. It doesn’t work that way.”

His deprecation filled with sour tones and Lara shook her head, smiling, too. “Except magic might. I’m grateful for it, anyway.”

“Tengo un poquito de espanol,” Kelly said. “ Tu comprendes , Aerin?”

“Of course I understa—” Aerin broke off, staring at Kelly before a smile flickered across her own features.

“Interestingly, so do I.” Ioan opened his eyes again, though he looked as weary as before. “That would be more than the earth’s gift. I think the Truthseeker has it right: mortal magic and immortal come together to clear away the difficulties of language. I gather I am in your debt,” he added to Dickon. “I will in some way repay you.”

Dickon muttered, “Great. Can you make me forget any of this ever happened? Kelly, what—” He thumped his head back against the Bronco’s headrest, fingers still white around the steering wheel. Eventually he said, “What’s going on,” like he knew the question was inadequate, but couldn’t come up with a better one.

“Reg is going to be all right,” Kelly said in a low fierce voice. “I can’t undo any of this, Dickon, but he’ll be okay. I’m really sorry to have gotten you involved.”

“You didn’t. David did. He just didn’t tell me.”

“For which I, too, am sorry. Dickon, this is my brother Ioan and my friend Aerin.”

“You’ve mentioned them. You forgot to say they were elves !”

“Actually, the brother I mentioned would have been Merrick. Ioan and I have been estranged, for lack of a better word. And I could hardly explain their heritage without explaining my own,” Dafydd said apologetically.

Dickon glowered at him in the rearview mirror. “Which you could’ve done any old time.”

“We should have this discussion somewhere else.” Lara cast a nervous glance at the hospital. “They’re going to notice sooner than later that Ioan’s not in his room anymore.”

“So you were up to no good.” Dickon sounded vindicated.

Kelly gave a stiff shrug. “I’m not going to apologize for causing a scene, if that’s what you’re expecting. If you can just drive us over to my car we’ll get out of your hair.”

“Kelly, you’ve got a twelve-year-old two-door Nissan. They won’t all fit.”

“I’m hardly leaving them with you.”

“For Christ’s sake, I’m trying to help—”

Lara interrupted. “Will you take us to Kelly’s apartment, Dickon?” and he shot her a scowl.

“Yes. Okay? Are you happy now, Kel? Your truth-hearing friend will tell you I’m not lying. Unlike some people I know. Where are you parked?”

Kelly tightened her jaw in a way Lara recognized as trying to prevent tears, and whispered directions to her Nissan. When they reached it, she jumped out of the Bronco and held up a hand to stop Lara. “I’d rather you went with them.”

“You don’t trust me?” Injury lashed through Dickon’s voice, though Lara thought Kelly’s distrust was at least a little justified.

Kelly obviously felt it was more than a little, her eyes flashing with anger as she looked past Lara toward her ex. “You’re the one who couldn’t handle any of this less than a week ago, Dickon. You’re the one who walked out. So no, I really don’t trust you even if Lara says you mean it. You might change your mind. Just drive them to my apartment, and then maybe we can talk.”

“Whatever.” Dickon flinched when Kelly slammed the door, looking like he wished he could have done that, rather than her. He slid a sharp glance at Lara. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” It seemed like there should be something else to say, an explanation or a platitude, but her wit deserted her and Lara was left to wait silently on Dickon’s response.

Surprise, then churlish gratitude coursed over his features, and without another word he drove them to Kelly’s apartment.

“You first,” Kelly said to him when they’d all reached that comparative safety. Ioan still faded in and out of consciousness, but he looked more comfortable sprawled on Kelly’s couch than he had in either the hospital or the Bronco. Aerin stood in front of him, arms crossed over her chest and a scowl dark enough to be a credible threat on its own marring her flawless features. Lara perched on the edge of a straight-backed chair from the kitchen, while Dafydd, beside her in one of the armchairs, was the only one in the whole room with an air of relaxation. It was a lie: Lara could see that in the jump of small muscles around his eyes and the unconscious tapping of a fingertip, but the performance made some difference to the atmosphere, which was dominated by Kelly and Dickon facing off at the doorway.

“You came into Reg’s hospital room like you were going to have us all arrested,” Kelly went on, voice low with accusation. “Why’d you change your mind?”

“The doctor said Reg had stabilized. He was dying, Kelly. I’ve been there most of the last four days, listening to the doctors, and nobody ever said anything about stabilizing. That was what they said the first day, critical but stable. After that they dropped the stable part and kept trying not to look too worried when I was around. So I want to know what the hell happened back there, and if David had something to do with it, at least that’s—”

“Wiping the slate clean?” Dafydd asked, just loudly enough to be heard across the room. “It might make some amends, but it doesn’t forgive the sin of having lied to you about who and what I really am.”

“Not that I would’ve believed you anyway,” Dickon said bitterly. Kelly’s chin came up in clear surprise at the admission, and Dickon left the door to sit across from Dafydd. Well across from him, Lara noted: the second armchair was on the long end of the coffee table, putting the two men as far apart as they could be within the confines of Kelly’s living room. Still, it was a gesture of willingness to talk that Dickon sat down at all.