Grail of the Summer Stars (Aetherial Tales) (47 page)

“I don’t want to state the obvious, but you realize you could be messing with the structure of the Spiral in a way that many Aelyr won’t be happy about?”

She snorted in contempt. “Not the bloody Spiral Court. Yes, of course. Why else d’you think I wanted Daniel’s paintings hidden? The last thing I want is some hostile force guessing my plans. Do we want Vaidre Daima, or whoever is top dog these days, turning up with his merry band, laying down the law like some overinflated planning enforcement officer? No, we do not.”

Mist didn’t feel like laughing, but couldn’t help it. Her breezy sarcasm had always made him laugh: he’d forgotten. He had to take the plunge, and trust her. “The Court just wants to keep a balance. There are other factions fanatically opposed to any contact between Vaeth and Spiral
at all
. Aurata, we have a really serious situation. On our way here, three friends who were helping us were taken prisoner by a Sibeylan called Albin. He’s a separatist, an incredibly powerful one. And we have to rescue our friends, but I don’t know how unless someone will help us.”

Her eyes flickered with surprise, and perhaps a touch of irritation at Mist’s expression of his own agenda. “Lord Albin.”

“You’ve heard of him?”

“Of course. Everyone has. He’s nothing, a flea bite.”

Mist blinked at her. “I’m glad you think so. More like some mad god of winter when we encountered him. I know you have your own concerns, Aurata, but if you won’t help us, who will?”

“Easy answer.” She gave a broad, guileless smile. “I will help you, if you will help me.”

*   *   *

Oliver led Stevie down a broad flight of stairs, along wide, carpeted corridors. Along the way, other Aetherials passed them, acknowledging Oliver with nods and subtle smiles. Male and female, they resembled smartly dressed humans. Stevie, however, was growing more sensitive to the auras that floated around them, spectral hints of taller shapes in black, red and gold. Felynx auras.

“Who are all these people?” she whispered.

“Friends of Aurata,” said Oliver. “The scattered ones, gathered together.”

“All the Felynx?”

He put a finger to his lips. “Only a select few survived the fall of Azantios. These Aetherials are more recent recruits who share our ideals. We’ve had to be very selective, but we’re proud of our community. We’re Aurata’s people, the Aurym Felynx.”

Ahead, a heavy paneled door stood ajar. She heard the faint sound of someone humming a song. Aromas of paint and turpentine wove around her.

Oliver left her at the door. Inside, the studio was full of natural light from the huge window. The floor was bare, with a few easels positioned at random and workbenches around the sides. The walls were covered with Daniel’s artwork—with the triptych
Aurata’s Promise
prominent at eye level as she entered. More paintings were stacked on the floor, sketches scattered on bench surfaces. Amid the creative chaos, she noticed a young man half hidden by the panel on which he was feverishly daubing paint. She saw familiar gawky limbs, unruly brown hair, the glint of spectacles …

“Daniel,” Stevie cried in relief. She ran and threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him off his stool. He gasped and clung to her with desperate, wiry strength. His body felt too thin, overheated.

“Stevie, Stevie,” he croaked in her ear. “You found me. I can’t believe it.”

“Yes, I’m here. Oh gods, you have no idea…”

Alone with Daniel, she stood back to look at him. Relief died. His face was too intense, the pupils overdilated, his skin pasty with exhaustion. The panel on which he was working was a mass of frantic yellow and orange daubs. At the center, a figure was taking shape, like a tarot-card empress resplendent on her throne.

They stared at each other.

“I can’t believe you found me,” he said, pushing his skewed glasses up the bridge of his nose. His hair had grown out and the beard was a shock. He looked like a bemused younger brother of Jesus.

“I got your message.”

“I never thought you would. I was so afraid … Fuck, I shouldn’t have drawn you into this, but … you’re part of it. It’s scary, but it’s amazing. Look.” He waved a hand at his work. “I call it
Aurata Enthroned
.”

“Yes, I … You’ve done a lot, haven’t you?”

“Yeah. Can’t stop, that’s the trouble. I—I shouldn’t have sent the triptych to you. Huge mistake. Oliver needed it, and I didn’t mean to put you in danger, because this, this is incredible.”

“Well, it wasn’t much fun being whacked over the head and robbed, but I survived.”

“Jeez, I’m so sorry. Oliver went mad. He sent Slahvin to get it back.”

“Mr. Slahvin, the security guy who is so polite?”

“Yes, that’s him. I don’t know how he can travel so fast, but…” His voice fell. “These people are not human. You get that, don’t you?”

“I know, Danny. You don’t need to convince me.” Her skin crawled at the memory of the serpentine shadow attacking her at the museum, haunting Frances Manifold’s house and later fighting with Mist in the hotel room. “Mr. Slahvin also stole the carved tablet that your mother found. Fortunately she’d given it to Mist by then, so he was the one who got attacked, not her. You do realize that Frances might have been badly hurt, even killed?”

His face dropped. “My god. I swear, I had no idea this might happen. These people are incredible, but … they’re ruthless. I’ve had to accept that. Do as they say, and you’ll be fine.”

Astonishment at finding him left her wordless. Stevie ran through all she needed to say, trying to streamline.

“I’ve seen your mother. She’s ill with worry.”

His face hardened and he looked away. “I never meant to hurt her,” he said. “But she hated my art, hated Oliver. I decided it was easier if I disappeared. I can’t stop painting these images. No one but Oliver cared.”

“How did he find you?”

“He saw my stuff on the Internet.” Daniel waved the question away. “He says my work was too important to show the world, because I’m painting the hidden past and possible futures that must be kept secret. So he brought me here to paint just for him and Aurata.”

“Right. And you didn’t think to ask him any questions?”

“I asked hundreds of questions! He said I should trust him, so I did. He’s…” Daniel blushed, which made the skin around his eyes look bruised. “He’s like no one I’ve ever met before. Except Aurata herself. I’ve only met her once so far. It was … like being visited by the Queen. She really is a goddess.”

“Was your website for her to look at, before she arrived?”

“Yeah, exactly. She was overseas, and Oliver needed her to see what I’d done. Once she’d seen it, he made me delete everything.”

Stevie looked narrowly at him, wondering. “And you came here
only
to paint?”

Daniel turned redder. “Well…”

“You were always the worst at keeping secrets,” she said. “Are you and Oliver an item?”

He flinched. “No! Well, yes. Sort of. Yes, we are.”

Stevie was so startled—despite her suspicions—that she hardly knew how to react. She wandered around, glancing over the display of iconic paintings. Vibrant, fantastical cities, beautiful Felynx, Tashralyr racing in silver-grey blurs that made her heart falter. She recognized some works from the private website she and Rosie had found. There were figures in darkness, gathered around an unseen object that glowed; a blurred battle scene of barbarians invading Azantios; more portrayals of Aurata as a fiery seraph; a row of figures standing in profile like a group of medieval saints: part angel and part animal-god. In shock, she recognized one as Mistangamesh.

What did this mean?

“They’re lining up to pay tribute to the fire goddess Aurata,” said Daniel as she stood wondering. “That’s how I interpret it, anyway.”

She turned her thoughts back to him. Yes, Oliver was attractive—but did he actually care about Danny, or was he just using him? She couldn’t really remember what he’d been like as Veropardus. To Fela, he’d been a distant palace official, aloof and priest-like. Not so noble, however, that was above having an affair with Aurata. Mist had not liked him at all.

“It makes more sense,” she said at last, “that this is about love, as well as art. You know, Dan, you could have told me you were gay at college. I would have accepted it.” She smiled. “It might explain why we did so much more talking than lovemaking.”

“No—Stevie, it wasn’t like that. I didn’t
know
at college. I was confused.” He grinned, for a moment looking like the Daniel of old. “You were wonderful … but I never really knew what I wanted, until I met Oliver. He’s different—dazzling, like an archangel. You’d do anything to please him because he’s so overwhelming. I loved him from the first moment. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off apologetically. “… disappoint you.”

Stevie raised her eyebrows. “Oh, you didn’t think I’d come here expecting to resume where we left off, did you? Don’t be daft. We ended up as friends, and that was fine.”

“Loving friends,” he said. “There’s no one I love in the world more than you. But with Oliver … it’s different.”

“Frances thought he was a drug dealer.”

“Oh, she knew he was more than that. But she couldn’t admit it. She was doing my head in, Stevie. I had to make a clean break. I left her a note.”

“Which she read to mean that you’d killed yourself.”

He dropped his head. “Actually, I nearly did.”

“What?”

“Just before I left London. I had a rope in my hands and everything. But Oliver arrived in time.”

“Why?” Her voice went hoarse.

“I was tired—exhausted, physically and emotionally.” He pinched the skin between his eyebrows, and motioned a hand at the panels. “I’ve been painting another reality for years now. Sometimes I feel like my brain’s on fire. I wanted it to stop. Selfish.”

She looked into his bloodshot eyes and her throat tightened. Around one eye was a fading but definite purple-yellow bruise. “Oh, Dan, I’m so sorry.”

“What for? I’m fine now.”

“Because it started when you met me, didn’t it? I feel responsible. And you’re obviously
not
fine. Who gave you the black eye?”

“I tripped,” he said. “Stevie, you couldn’t have stopped this. The visions went on long after we’d parted. With Oliver, it was like floodgates opening. And Aurata said that my images have actually given guidance to
her
about what she needs to do! She’s amazing.”

Is she?
Stevie thought skeptically. “Has Oliver been giving you drugs?”

“God, you sound like my mum. It’s worth it. Intensifies the visions, and means I can carry on for hours without needing sleep.”

“Maybe your mother had had a point, for once. You’ll burn out. You look like you already have.”

He blinked. The shadows in his face deepened. “Oliver can be demanding, but so what? If I’m a bit tired or crazy, it’s not important. I can’t say no to him.”

“I think you need to tell him enough’s enough.”

“You don’t understand.” Daniel’s expression turned dark. “I’m a channel, I can’t close myself off. The Felynx need me. They said I’m their
naemur
, a sort of prophet. What I’ve had to accept since I came here is this: that it’s hard, even brutal, but
I’ve got to do it.
I’m scared, but the end result will be worth it.”

“Scared of what?”

He hesitated. “An apocalypse. All I can see is flames. It’s as if the world is going to be melted down like molten gold and poured into a new mold to make something absolutely beyond our imaginations. I’m not going to survive, but it will be worth it. A wondrous sacrifice.”

Stevie knew for certain then that Daniel was a long way from his right mind. Drugged, abused, burned out, delusional … whatever the case, his mental state made him hopelessly vulnerable. It didn’t matter that his conversation made sense, or that he wanted to stay in this situation. She
had
to get him away.

“What are you planning to do?” she asked. “Stay here and work until you collapse? I thought sending me the triptych was a cry for help. And your computer message. I came to rescue you, but maybe you don’t want to be rescued.”

“Stevie, you’re my oldest friend. I wouldn’t have hurt you for anything. I had some moments of panic, that’s all … but I’m so, so glad you’re here. Honestly, I’ll be all right. Everything will be fine because something wonderful is going to happen. You can stay, can’t you? Everything feels right, now that you’re here.” He gave her the sweet, disarming grin that had first snared her heart ten years ago.

She gave a sigh that became a groan. “Danny, your mother’s in hospital. She’s really ill with pneumonia. It’s serious. Honestly, I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty, but you have to come home.”

“Don’t do this to me!”

But she had to. He went pale as she told him all that had happened.

“I’ve spent hours with her, I’ve seen the pain she’s in. She’s desperately sorry for the arguments you had, for trying to control your life. She understands why you left, but I still think you need to come home. Now. In case she doesn’t get better.”

His color drained to white. He pulled at his stringy hair. “I can’t. I
do
want to see her … I would if I could, but I can’t leave. None of us can leave now we’ve seen Aurata’s plan.”

*   *   *

Stevie was sitting in the middle of a king-size bed when Mist found her.

A friendly but formal Aetherial woman, with hair as red as Aurata’s, had shown Stevie to an enormous bedroom where she’d found new clothes laid on the quilt, a selection of luxurious toiletries, and everything else she could possibly need. Except freedom.

On the way she’d bumped into Patrick, who seemed cheerfully oblivious and slightly drunk. “Hey,” he said, “I could get used to this place, couldn’t you? It’s unbelievable.”

“They’re treating you okay, then?” she asked warily.

“Yes, fantastic. I’ve been playing pool, and drinking beer in front of the biggest TV I’ve ever seen. As for the security guys … wow. Who owns this place? How come all their employees are so damn good-looking?”

Stevie smiled, couldn’t help it. “Sounds like you’ve forgotten all about your temperamental boyfriend.”