A Risky Proposition (27 page)

When I finally stopped puffing long enough to spare a glance for Emily, she was smiling down at me in weary relief.  “You’ll be fine now, honey.  Just take a minute to collect yourself and then go ahead and knock on the door.  I’m sure Lauringer already knows you’re here.  She’ll send you back home when you’re done—by a much more direct route, I’ll wager.  And sorry for the trek through the forest, it really was the only way.  Good luck, Sydney—I know if anyone can help you, Lauringer can.”

She gave me a warm wink of encouragement and began a slightly unsteady flight back up the path toward the trees, dull yellow faerie dust trailing behind her.

“Wait!” I choked out, overwhelmed by a surge of panic.  Emily turned to look at me questioningly.  “You’re not coming with me?”

“No, honey,” she answered, her eyes sympathetic.  “This appointment was for you.  Lauringer doesn’t mind making sure I have Ophelia’s memory dust when I need it, but with the way she is…I just think you’re better off meeting with her alone.”

“But…Lorien!” I said, concentrating hard and turning her name into a call as I spoke it.

Emily stared at me in confusion.

“My faerie guardian, Lorien,” I explained breathlessly.  “She’ll never forgive me if I meet with Lauringer without her.  Lorien!” I called again.

Emily just shook her head.  “Not a good idea, honey.  Besides, this entire place is warded—she can’t hear your call.  You’d have to go all the way back through the forest to escape the wards—and if you did, you’d never find this place again.  You’ll just have to meet with Lauringer without her.  I’m sure she’ll understand.”

I seriously doubted it.  I slumped against the door with an unhappy groan. 

“Chin up, honey,” Emily said bracingly.  “Now you listen to me—you’ll be fine.  You just remember what can happen if you don’t find what you’re looking for.  Okay?”

I took a steadying breath.  “Okay,” I repeated, standing up straighter.  “And thanks again, Emily—for everything.”

Her smile was weary as she nodded and turned to fly away once more. I stood against the door, restraining the urge to call her back as I watched her disappear into the forest.  When she was no longer visible, I grimaced and glanced down to take inventory of myself.  I was a mess. 

My jeans were streaked with dirt, my sandals were beyond filthy and my toe was bleeding.  My black shirt appeared to have escaped without much damage, although it was slightly askew and Hannah’s ridiculous brooch was still pinned to it.  Sunny had dared me to wear it to dinner and during our trip to the bookstore.  I unpinned it now and pushed it into my pocket, where it created a large rock-shaped lump. 

I pulled the edges of the napkin containing the glass vial from my other pocket and clutched it in my hand as I knocked on Lauringer’s green front door.  It opened immediately to reveal an attractive young woman in a smart navy business suit and matching fitted gloves.  She stood before me in her stocking feet, her waist-length golden-blonde hair hanging loose about her shoulders.

Although the suit and the rustic cabin made an odd contrast, her appearance would have seemed relatively normal—if it weren’t for the color of her skin.  Every inch of exposed flesh glowed golden.  Not as in goldenly tan, but as in glittering, sparkly golden, as if it had permanently absorbed a layer of gold dust. 

Her eyes were also infiltrated by the strange phenomenon.  What should have been white was a pale shimmering gold, and although the irises retained a trace of what appeared to be cornflower blue, both they and the pupils were so heavily tinted with specks of gold that barely any other color remained visible.

When she smiled at me, even her teeth gleamed faintly golden.  “I was wondering how long you were going to stand outside before knocking.  Come on in, Sydney.  I’m Lauringer, as you’ve probably guessed.”  She closed the door behind us and motioned me toward a snug kitchen nook with a carved table of raw wood and four matching chairs with thick, green cushions.  A set of green glazed canisters were lined up neatly along the length of the table.

“I really appreciate you seeing me,” I told her when I found my voice. 

The interior of the cabin spread out in an open design.  It was sparsely furnished and filled with soft, warm lighting that left no corner shadowed.  The living room furniture, arranged cozily before the sprawling fireplace, was informal.  The cushions and the few scattered throw rugs, like the accents in the kitchen, were in shades of green.  A wide staircase framed one side of the kitchen nook and led up to an unseen second storey, which I assumed contained the bedrooms.

The kitchen was comfortable and functional.  Fat bunches of dried herbs hung from a rack spanning the length of the enormous window above the sink, their pungent aroma permeating the room.  Another larger rack hung along the opposite wall, displaying numerous pots of varying size and thickness, some made of copper, some of steel, some of cast iron. 

Lauringer went to remove a whistling tea kettle from the stove as I took one of the chairs at the wooden table.

“I must admit that Emily’s description of your plight interested me.  It is rare for a human to attempt to escape a death djinn contract.  Suicide has been the generally accepted method for many.  Would you like some tea?”

I started at her bluntness. 

She blinked her strange golden eyes at me, and then they widened in comprehension. 

“I’m sorry, Sydney.  I’m afraid that I may be a bit lacking in the social graces.  You’ve probably been told that I’m something of a hermit.  The truth is—I don’t think I’ve had a guest in my home for at least half a century.  Please forgive my unthinking comment.”

I cleared my throat.  “Uh, I’m feeling a little out of sorts myself.  I’ve heard so much about you.  My faerie guardian practically worships you.”

She studied me as she dropped teabags into two earthenware mugs and poured steaming water over them.  “Milk and honey?”

“Please,” I answered, grateful that I hadn’t had to ask.  I was so nervous I probably would have suffered through drinking it bitter if she hadn’t offered.

“So, you have a faerie guardian?”  She placed one mug in front of me and settled into the opposite chair with her own.  She opened one of the green glazed canisters and scooped out a heaping tablespoon of dense golden powder, which she stirred into her tea before taking a sip. 

“Yes,” I said.  “I just found out about her a few weeks ago, when this whole death djinn thing started.  Her name’s Lorien.” 

She noticed my eyes on her hand and said, “You’re probably wondering why I’m wearing gloves.  It’s a precaution of my trade.  I handle many potent substances which could have decidedly…unpleasant effects if they were to come into contact with my skin.”

Then she smiled.  “You’re very lucky to have a faerie guardian, you know.  Only a small portion of the human population is chosen.  She’ll be the best friend you’ll ever have—don’t take her for granted.” 

She sighed and took another sip of her tea.  “I’m sure you’ve seen the effect that Ophelia’s decision has had on poor Emily.”

“Yes,” I answered, my brow creasing in a frown.  “I was pretty horrified to learn what a couple of centuries without my soul could do to both me and Lorien.  I know that getting Balthus discredited is a long shot, but I have to try.  Although, I’m not sure where it will leave Emily and Ophelia if I succeed.”  I searched Lauringer’s face for her opinion on the matter. 

After all, she had been providing Emily with the spell to keep Ophelia intermittently sane.

Her glittering eyes revealed nothing as she continued to study me.  “Maybe if you succeed, it won’t only be your contract that is cancelled.  And if not—well, a life without your soul is no life at all.”

Lauringer glanced down at the wrapped vial in my hand.  “I don’t require payment for my services, you know.”

I looked at her in confusion.

“That vial of immortality,” she explained, “I assume you brought it as payment.”

I stared at the thin, blue and white napkin in dawning amazement.  I unwrapped it carefully and set the forest green vial containing the faint glimmer of light on the table between us. 

“My friend found this in my penthouse.  Balthus was staying there before I moved in, so I suspected it was his.  But I didn’t know what it was, or whether it might be dangerous.”

She chuckled and picked up the vial to examine it.  “No, it’s not dangerous.  And it happens to be extremely valuable.  Immortality is a rare and expensive commodity on the death djinn market.  Balthus won’t be pleased to have lost it.”

I gnawed my lower lip, my mind churning.  “Is it valuable enough to get me out of my contract?” I ventured hopefully.

Her golden eyes turned hard.  “Not likely, Sydney.  There is very little that would persuade a death djinn to abandon the pursuit of a soul contract.  And although immortality is harder to come by than a human soul, I doubt a djinn would consider it an equal trade. 

“I do, however, believe that you’re on the right track as far as trying to discredit Balthus.  Why don’t you tell me how you think I might be able to help you with that?”

Lauringer folded her gloved hands together on the table top and looked at me expectantly. 

I did my best to keep the events in some semblance of coherent order—from the woman in the coma with the unaligned soul, to the goblin with the tattoo on his palm and his possible connection to the Unseelie Court, to the death djinn arrests for possession of other unaligned souls, to the Seelie Police’s inability to trace the souls to their human counterparts or identify the magic that had been used on them. 

Lauringer remained silent and expressionless as I spoke.  When I was finished, she continued to watch me for a moment, as if coming to a decision. 

“I would like to examine the unaligned souls, and in particular, the soul of the woman in the coma.”

“Uh, do you want me to ask my friend at the Seelie Police Department about getting you in to examine them?”

Her face lit with amusement.  “That won’t be necessary, Sydney.  I am well enough known that I shouldn’t have a problem getting myself in.”

“Right.”  I felt my cheeks color.  Of course the most powerful mage in the faerie realm didn’t need my connections.  “Um, how about the infinity tattoo; does that mean anything to you?”

The humor in her expression died.  “I’m sorry, Sydney, I can’t say that it does.  And even if you found the goblin that supposedly has this tattoo, he would most likely deny Balthus’ story, and it would be the word of a criminal versus the word of a goblin—neither one being a particularly reliable source. 

“Although it shouldn’t matter anyway.”  Her jaw clenched and her voice grew agitated.  “What I can’t understand is why the police haven’t made more of a move against the death djinns already, with so many of them found in possession of unaligned souls.  Of
course
they’re pleading ignorance—it would be foolish to admit such a thing!”  

She took a calming breath. 

“I’m afraid I have rather strong opinions on this issue,” she said apologetically.  “I’ve seen what happens when a death djinn controls a human soul.  I’ve watched Ophelia and Emily suffer.  And others. 

“I will examine the unaligned souls myself to see if I can’t find something that the Seelie investigators have overlooked.  But in the mean time, my advice to you is simply to sit tight and keep your guard up.  Even without further evidence, the sheer number of death djinns involved should be enough to get a conspiracy conviction against them.  And that, in turn, will hopefully be enough to get your contract cancelled. 

“You’re strong, Sydney.  You can get through this.  Just hold out a little while longer.”

Her voice was filled with quiet conviction.  And as her eyes held mine, I had the sense that she understood what I was going through, even though she was a stranger to me.

“If I could do something to help you resist them, I would,” she added.  “But you probably know by now that the death djinn contract forbids any such interference.”

“Yeah, convenient little clause,” I said with a crooked smile.

“Isn’t it, though?” she replied in a bitter tone.  “So how would you feel about accompanying me to the Seelie Police station to take a look at those souls?”

“Now?” I asked, surprised.

“No time like the present,” she answered briskly.  She swallowed the last of her tea, then gave me a quick once over and grinned.  “You’re a bit of a sight aren’t you?  Here, let me fix that.  After all, it was my penchant for privacy that put you into such a state.”

Before I could form a response, she reached into one of the green canisters on the table and pulled out a palm-full of fine silver dust.  In a single smooth movement she sprinkled it over me, while softly mumbling an incantation.  Warmth spread through me, and my clothes shifted against my skin as if they had been disturbed by an ethereal wind. 

The dull throb in my toe disappeared, and when I looked down, it was as if nothing had happened to it.  There was no trace of blood and my toenail polish looked fresh.  My filthy jeans and sandals had also been returned to like-new status.

“Wow,” I breathed.  “You should bottle that stuff and sell it.  Most women would kill to have something like that on hand.  You’d make a fortune.”