A Risky Proposition (22 page)

I lay my palm out flat before him and traced the shape that Ophelia had indicated.  “Does that have any significance for you?”

“Like this?” he asked with a frown, retracing the symbol on my palm with his own finger and looking at me questioningly.

“Mmhm,” I breathed in answer, reclaiming my hand and closing my fingers over my tingling palm with a shiver.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sunny and Lorien exchange amused glances.

“No, I don’t recall that symbol being associated with any particular group, but I’ll ask around.  Distinguishing marks are rare amongst goblins.  It’s not as good as a name, but it may be the next best thing.  Did you learn anything else?” he asked with interest.

“The goblin was overheard claiming that he’d been on the Hell Ride.”

“The Unseelie Court.”  Sparrow’s exhalation was harsh.  “Trading in unaligned souls is just the sort of thing they’d be behind.  And the Seelie Court won’t stand for the death djinns having dealings with the Unseelies.  It’s worth pursuing—something like that could nullify their soul contract altogether.”

Sunny, Lorien and I grinned happily at each other.

“Is there more?” Sparrow asked intently.

“That was it about the goblin,” I said, still smiling.  “But I might be able to arrange a meeting with Lauringer.  Maybe she could use her magic to help us find out what’s going on.”

Sparrow whistled.  “I’m impressed.  You’ve been busy since I saw you last.”

I beamed at him.

“Just one more question,” he said.

“Hmm?”  I tilted my head in inquiry.

“From whence did this small wealth of information, and a possible introduction to the famous Lauringer, come?”

My pleasure dimmed and I bit my lip.  “Sparrow, do you trust me not to keep anything from you that would help your investigation?” I asked, my gaze begging for his understanding.

His eyes narrowed and his irises darkened to cobalt.  “I trust you not to
knowingly
keep anything from me that would help, Sydney.  Who gave you this information?” he repeated firmly.

My hackles rose at his tone but I reminded myself to remain calm.  “Sparrow, the person who told me this is innocent and needs to remain uninvolved.  I
swore
I wouldn’t reveal their identity.  And I swear to you now that I would tell you anyway if I thought it would help you.  But they told me everything they knew, and further questioning might harm them.”

“You really think an innocent person would come to harm at my hands?” Sparrow demanded.

“I don’t think you’d ever intentionally harm anyone who didn’t deserve it.”

Sparrow’s expression softened. 

“But I do think that further questioning by anyone, including myself, could harm this person.  Please Sparrow—I need you to trust me.  And don’t be angry.  I hate it when you’re angry.”

He looked surprised, and when he spoke his accent was noticeably thicker.  “Have you seen me angry so many times then?”

“A few,” I shrugged hesitantly.  “Maybe irritated is a better word.  Although it’s not as if we’ve ever met under anything less than stressful circumstances.”

His gaze was intent upon mine.  “I didn’t realize I was reacting so strongly,” he said.  “There are things about this case, Sydney—things about your situation in particular—that hit a nerve with me…” he trailed off.

My heart beat faster as I stared back at him.

“May I speak with you in private?” he asked, his eyes flickering toward Sunny and Lorien.

“Sure,” I answered, feeling unaccountably nervous as I stood and motioned for him to follow me.  “We can talk in my room.”  I glanced back at my friends before entering the kitchen and saw Lorien hovering above Sunny’s shoulder, both of them grinning.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Sunny mouthed at me.
 

Ha Ha—this coming from the woman who had spent last night with twin incubi.

I led Sparrow down the hallway to my bedroom, intensely aware of his presence close behind me.  Closing the door with a soft snick, I gathered my courage to turn and look at him.  He stood watching me, emotion flickering in his sapphire eyes.

“I feel I owe you an explanation, Sydney.”

“I’m not sure you owe me anything, Sparrow,” I said, “but an explanation would help.”

He sighed.  “Do you mind if we sit?”

I nodded and strode past him to perch on the edge of the bed.  He followed my lead and sat near, but not touching me.  His weight caused the mattress to dip and the silver coin he had given me slid out from beneath my pillow.

He retrieved the coin, rubbing it between long fingers as he shot me a questioning look.  I flushed in embarrassment, trying to formulate an explanation that would make sense.  I couldn’t think of one that didn’t sound utterly lame, so I said nothing.

“My mother gave me this coin,” he stated softly, “when I was but a small lad.  I haven’t much left of her but this, and a single photograph of her and my father.”

My embarrassment faded to surprise as he continued.

“My father was a sidhe warrior, well-respected for his loyalty and fierceness in battle.  And my mother was human—a beautiful, fiery young Irishwoman.  In their time, the barrier between our realms was a bit less solid, and many mortals still believed in the faerie folk. 

“As my sidhe kin tell it, my mother discovered my father bathing in a shaded pool on her family’s property one summer afternoon.  Taking him for a vagabond, and bravely ignoring his nakedness, she grabbed the nearest weapon she could find—a large tree branch—and began to beat him soundly with it, calling him indelicate names and demanding he vacate the property immediately.”  Sparrow chuckled and shook his head. 

“Sounds like love at first sight.”  I grinned.

“Yes, well, much to my mother’s surprise, the young man disappeared into thin air right before her eyes.  She knew immediately that she must have encountered one of the fae, and decided the pool must be enchanted, so she resolved not to go near it again, thinking that would be the end of it.  But my father had other ideas.  He was fascinated by the fierce young woman with the fair skin and shining, dark hair.  He began to spy upon her, knowing it was wrong, but wanting to learn something more of her.”

“So you’re telling me your father was a stalker?” I teased.

Sparrow laughed.  “A stalker with the most honorable of intentions.  And it worked out in both their favors in the end—as you’ll see if you’ll let me tell the tale.”

“I think it’s sweet that you lured me into the bedroom to tell me a story, Sparrow,” I said, a whisper of wickedness in my smile.

Sparrow’s eyes blazed and he gave me a warning smile in return.  “Just listen, little witch.”

I snorted.

“My mother was from a large family and was the sixth of eight children.”

“Ouch,” I whispered.

Sparrow shook his head, fighting a grin.

“They were poor, having little more than their modest piece of farm land in the country.  It had become my mother’s responsibility to tend the vegetable garden, and she did so without complaint, but she found that her harvest lacked the ripe abundance that the garden had provided for her sister before her. 

“In truth, it was caused by overuse of the soil on the small section of land, but her family teased her mercilessly about her ‘black thumb’.  Although they were kind about it, she sensed their disappointment and it saddened her.  They often relied on the garden to provide for their own table in hard times.

“It is not difficult for faerie folk to cast simple cures, especially those akin to nature.  And seeing how the poor harvest distressed my mother, my father cast a healing spell upon the earth of the garden.  Not only that, but he returned often in the misty hour just before dawn to secretly cast strengthening spells upon each stalk of corn, head of cabbage or kale, and upon each vine of beans.”

“Lorien told me about dryads and how they sometimes ask faeries to cure their blighted trees,” I nodded, getting into the story.

“Yes, that’s right.  And my father’s cures worked so well that soon my mother’s garden was providing the most ample crop the little patch of land had ever brought forth.  The vegetables were ripening so quickly and in such great supply that her family was able to begin selling and trading some at the town market for the extra coin and supplies they so desperately needed.  Everyone who tasted that corn and those beans agreed they were the sweetest, most delicious they’d ever eaten.

“No longer able to claim she had a ‘black thumb’, my mother’s family began teasing her over the sudden turn-about, asking if she hadn’t struck a deal with the fae to bless the garden.  My mother laughed, but she wondered at the unusual change herself, their teasing reminding her of the young man she’d encountered at the nearby pool.  She decided to set a watch upon the garden one night, just to see if anything out of the ordinary could be observed.”

“It’s like he bought all her chairs,” I said dreamily.

Sparrow looked at me askance.  “What?”

“Did you ever see that movie where the woman made the chairs and tried to sell them, but no one would buy them, so the man who loved her secretly bought all of them himself?”

“Uh, no.  I don’t watch many movies,” he said uncertainly.

I laughed.  “Never mind.  Go on.”

He cleared his throat.  “Where was I?  Oh, right—so my mother watched the garden all night.  When dawn approached and naught had happened, she began to feel foolish and resigned herself that there was nothing to see.  But just as she rose to abandon her perch by the window, my father appeared in the midst of the garden patch.  She watched as he moved amongst her rows of vegetables, sprinkling his silvery strengthening dust over each of the plants.  And with shock, she recognized him as the man she’d chased from the pool.

“She stormed outside, angered and frightened by his interference.  But when she looked into his eyes, she knew that he had meant no harm, and that she had nothing to fear.  It didn’t take long for her to realize that it was actually quite a romantic thing for him to do, and he was rather a handsome young rake, so she allowed him to court her properly. 

“They fell in love and eventually decided to marry, making their home on a small tract of land near her family’s farm, where they had a modest but happy life together.”

“That’s a beautiful story, Sparrow.  I think you have a bit of the bard in you,” I said softly.

“Well, that’s thanks to my sidhe kin, who raised me.”  Sparrow grinned.  “My uncles told me the story of how my parents met many times while I was growing up.  It’s become like a fable in my mind.”

“Did you have any brothers or sisters?” I asked.

“I was my parents’ first and only child.  I believe they tried to give me a sibling or two,” Sparrow winked, “but the coupling between a faerie and a human will rarely produce more than one offspring.”

“I was an only child too.”  I gave him a rueful smile.  “I’m guessing your fable turns sad at this point, though.”

“Yes, I suppose it does.  But I’d like for you to know the rest, if you don’t object to hearing it.”

“Tell me,” I agreed solemnly.

Sparrow nodded, the look in his eyes sparking a curiously warm sensation in the region of my heart.  “It was when I was about six years old that rumblings of trouble began in the faerie realm.  A new leader had come to power in the Unseelie Court.  An ambitious young goblin named Nugratz had gained a large following of the younger members of the court.  They were dissatisfied with what they viewed as the Unseelies’ cowardly obeisance to the laws of the Seelie Court.

“Nugratz staged a coup and murdered the old leader of the Unseelies, promising his followers that if they made him their new chief, he would lead them to victory against the Seelies.  The Seelie Court called forth their army of loyal warriors to crush the uprising before it could get out of hand, and my father joined his sidhe kin in battle.  The clash was short but bloody, and although the Seelie Court triumphed, they lost many brave fighters.  My father was among them.”

I had been expecting it, but he said it with such a lack of emotion that I didn’t know how to react, or even if I should.  Sparrow’s voice remained toneless as he continued, like he was distancing himself from the words.

“My mother was heartbroken and wept for days, becoming despondent and listless.  Soon after, a strange gentleman showed up on our doorstep, asking to speak with the lady of the house.  He appeared refined and gave me a kindly smile when he bade me fetch my mother, but I was overcome by a fear of him I couldn’t explain.  My mother dried her tears and agreed to see the man, shooing me off to play outside.  But I remained by the window and listened.

“That man was King Moab, Sydney.”

I immediately flashed back to the coldly elegant king of the death djinns, who had taunted Sparrow in the police station, and whose power had filled me with such bitter desire and fear.  My dread for the six-year-old boy that Sparrow had once been grew.

“My mother had heard of the death djinns and their ability to grant wishes.  She knew that she must first make a heartfelt wish for death—which was no difficulty for her after the loss of her love—and that she would then be able to make two wishes of her choice without reprisal, losing her soul only upon the completion of the third.  She intended to make the first two wishes and cheat the djinn out of the third wish, retaining her soul.  In her innocence, however, she did not realize that some wishes cannot be granted even by a death djinn.