Iron (The Warding Book 1) (9 page)

I stood on the sidewalk and listened to the cab disappear into the distance. A minute or two passed before I could drag my feet up those graceful stone stairs and stare at the beautiful, dark wood of their door. I still couldn’t quite believe what I was doing. I had been so adamant about staying far away from these people only a few days earlier. Now I was at their door in the middle of the night, heart beating like a drum. My need for their help warred with my pride. (And not a bit of me was scared shitless of what new and exciting freakishness awaited me beyond that door. Nope, not one bit.)

There was a light on over the porch, framing me in a puddle of pale gold as I stood there, full of doubts. I had to ask them for help. I had no other choice. I couldn’t ignore whatever this Gift was that I had and I couldn’t stand being so lost and afraid one moment longer. The image of that Wax Man sucking the life out of my unsuspecting bestie was burned into my mind. I shuddered. Something had to be done about that. I couldn’t—
wouldn’t
—sit by, helpless, like that again. I had no option of retreat, not this time. I took a deep breath, gathered up my metaphorical balls, and knocked.

Seana opened the door. She looked so average, standing there. It baffled my mind. A creature who could banish head injuries with a wave of her hand should have been dressed in a grand gown or Grecian robes or something. Maybe even surrounded by a halo of light. Instead, she looked like your run of the mill suburban mom: barefoot, in dark leggings and an over-sized, ivory cable-knit sweater, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She had the eyes of a healer, though. They radiated concern as she ushered me into the dimly lit foyer. It didn’t escape my notice that she scanned the street behind me before shutting the door, throwing more than one lock home.

I stood there, dumbfounded by the normalcy around me. Coats hung in a neat row along one side of the foyer, with a pair of muddy boots on the rack beneath them. The living room that opened up before me was cozy with a plush couch and matching loveseat, their rich brown color complimented by the thick pile of the carpet in the center of the room. A paperback lay over the arm of the couch, a cup of tea—still steaming—sat on the end table next to it. Dark woods echoed their lovely front door in the end and coffee tables. They were a nice contrast to the cream-colored walls. A flat-screen TV was mounted on the wall above a cluttered entertainment center that held a dizzying array of DVDs and gaming consoles.

I was speechless. I don’t know what bothered me more: that these otherworldly creatures lived such regular, human-like lives or that they were obviously much better off than me. I mean, what did fairies do to make a living? They had to have some sort of income. I guess if illegal immigrants could manage it, so could otherworldly species, but their high-end neighborhood and décor were a step or three beyond minimum wage. Unless they were just using another of their mystical abilities to hoodwink their landlord and the nice folks at Crate and Barrel into free rent and all the furnishings they needed, of course.

Seana laid a hand on my shoulder. “Can I get you something?” Her other hand gestured to her abandoned cup. “Some tea, perhaps?”

I didn’t trust my voice yet. The flighty feeling of being on the verge of a full blown panic attack has loosened its grip on the cab ride over, but it wasn’t gone. I wondered if it would ever disappear, or if it had just become my new normal. I wasn’t at all thirsty, but another moment or two to pull myself back together couldn’t hurt. I nodded.

She squeezed my arm gently. “Make yourself at home. I will be right back.”

I rounded the corner of the loveseat after she passed through the far door into what I assumed was the kitchen. I slid out of my coat and folded it over the arm of the couch, my purse tucked against it. There was no sign of Kaine or Mairi. (I even looked in the corners of the room for a hidden kitty.) Everything was quiet, except for the usual creaks and squeaks of an old house. If they were around, they were keeping mouse-quiet and letting Seana handle me. Not the worst idea, considering how unsettling I found both of them.

With a slowly exhaled breath, I sat on the edge of the seat. My hands fidgeted in my lap as my eyes roved the room, unable to find a place to settle. What was I doing? How on earth did I think coming here would make anything better? I had hoped to feel comforted. Safe, even. Instead, I felt more lost than ever. I had no clue what I was going to do; what I should say. I was pretty sure the deal I had refused days earlier still lay on the metaphorical table between us, but unless I accepted it, their help would not be given freely. I was no keener now than I had been then on the prospect of being used as a pawn in their little struggle for fairy power, but perhaps I was more open to bargaining. While I hadn’t thought so at the time, I had come to realize that there were things I wanted from them in return.

When Seana returned, I was a bit more composed. I took the tea with a smile and a thank you. A sip told me it was chamomile. Ick. I thought it tasted more like warm bathwater than a beverage, but the attempt to imbue me with some calming properties was a kind gesture. I cupped it in one hand and rested it on my knee. “Thank you for letting me come here. I know it’s insanely late.” Not to mention flat out insane, I added silently.

She tucked herself back into the previously occupied corner of the couch, legs folded beneath her. She waved a hand at the book on the end table. “It is no trouble. As you can see, I am not the best sleeper.”

“Still, you must think I’m ballsy, calling you at two in the morning. Especially the way I acted when we last spoke.” My face flushed at the memory. I hadn’t been the most gracious about asking them to exit my apartment. I think the words “freak” and “nutcase” might have been tossed around a little more liberally than I now cared to remember. “I’m sorry I was such a bitch.”

Her chuckle was soft; musical. “You had had a very rough night. Your short temper was completely understandable.”

I snorted. “That’s a nice way to put it. ‘Rough nights’ seem to be my thing lately.”

“I thought that might be the case.” She took a slow sip of her tea and regarded me with that concerned mother stare of hers. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Everyone had been handling me with kid gloves lately. I knew they meant it to be kind, but instead it just made me feel worse. It made me feel defective. Since I didn’t want a repeat of the hysterics that had taken place in Allison’s office, I kept my story short and to the point. Even when I stuck to the facts, images of that horrible creature feeding off Jenni flashed before my eyes.

My hands had begun to tremble by the time I finished recounting my evening. I placed my teacup down on the coffee table before I did something stupid like spill it all over their expensive looking rug. Thankfully, my eyes remained dry.

“I am so sorry that you had to witness such a horrific thing.” I searched her face carefully, noting every little bit of shame and concern writ there. Her expression told me volumes more than her carefully worded apology. There was a deep, all-knowing sort of fear lurking beneath her patented blend of motherly distress.

“So I’m not crazy? You know what that thing was?”

“Unfortunately, I do. They are abhorrent, soulless creatures called Shades. They are reviled, even among the bestial fae.” Her disgust was clear. “As you saw, they feed on the happiness that can be found in others. Many turn feral, ruled by their hunger alone. You are lucky this one showed such restraint. Many drain their prey dry.”

I tried to swallow the slick lump in my throat. “What happens then?”

She looked down and shrugged uneasily. “Some recover, in time. Others are not so lucky. They themselves become lost, their light dimmed or extinguished completely. Some are consumed by the darkness and lose the will to carry on. Others are driven mad. There are many in asylums the world over who have been forever changed by the touch of a hungry Shade.”

The thought of Jenni locked away in some padded room—or worse, throwing herself off some bridge in despair—rekindled my earlier rage. “And you’re telling me those things, those Shades, just walk around feeding on us at will? That they’re basically killing people with their touch every damn day and no one is trying to stop them?”

“In High Queen Isobail’s day they were banned from this world, as were most of the bestial fae. Shades have long been distrusted and the havoc a single one can wreak if left unchecked was too dangerous for both your kind and mine. If one disobeyed the law and crossed the Veil, it was considered an act of treason. Do you know what that means?”

“I watch the History channel,” I replied tartly. “Let me guess. It’s punishable by death?”

“Yes. Isobail took such things very seriously. She upheld the tradition of protecting this realm against our darker brethren. Like those before her, she engaged Hunters to track down law-breakers on either side of the Veil, and they would have been sent to stop any fae who dared defy the law, Shade or otherwise.” Seana’s anger was a quiet thing, but there was a fierceness in her eyes that made me sit back just a bit. “Now you have witnessed the folly of High King Tiernan’s carelessness first hand. The Hunters no longer safeguard your world. I can only assume they are no longer playing their role in mine as well. I had not thought the situation so bad.” She looked down at her lap again, where her hands were wringing one another in worry. I thought I heard a catch in her voice. “His madness is truly destroying the world.”

What the hell was I supposed to say to that? It wasn’t just her world she was talking about; some far off mystical green fields where sylphs and satyrs frolicked the day away. Without High King Nutbag over there doing his job, the creepy crawlies that they kept locked away in the dark corners of their shining cities were just going to keep coming into mine. And who could blame them? If their own people hated them so much, of course they’d come on through to a place where they could get a free meal and a hefty dose of anonymity.

Of course that also meant if she was right—and God damn me, it certainly sounded like she was—I was the one and only key to stopping them. I was the only one who could help them find their Secret Keeper and their way home, so they could put a firm hand back on the throne.

Talk about fucked between a rock and a hard place.

“All I’ve wanted from the second this all started was to ignore it. To go back to my normal life, where crazy shit like this doesn’t happen. I don’t even care how boring it was now. I just want things to go back to the way they were before I realized I had this shitty ‘Gift’ so I can walk outside and go to work and have a night out without seeing some monster in the corner that no one else can see.” I sank back in the loveseat, defeated. I knew the answer even before I asked the question. “But that isn’t going to happen, is it?”

She shook her head. “No, it won’t. A Gift, once awoken, will not slumber again. Some may be suppressed for a time by extreme means, but I do not believe one such as yours could be made to do so, given its very nature to resist other magics. Even now, in its fledgling state, you were able to see through three glamours and that is no small feat. Glamours are one of the most deeply ingrained fae magics. They are learned from the cradle and practiced by many until they become as natural as breathing.”

That was
so
not what I wanted to hear. Then again, it wasn’t exactly a surprise either. Even if she had a way to make me to stop seeing the hard truth of what was out there, I couldn’t forget what I had already seen. I was good at making stupid mistakes and telling myself little white lies, but even I had limits. It was one thing to tell myself that I would start my diet again tomorrow while scarfing down a greasy bacon cheeseburger. Pretending that I had never seen Jenni’s happiness getting sucked out by a creature straight out of my nightmares? Or that I hadn’t smelled Goliath’s spoiled meat breath in my face? Those were things I’d never forget, no matter how badly I wanted to.

If I was being completely honest with myself (which was not exactly my strong suit), I didn’t really want to forget the horrible things I had seen. I didn’t want to deal with the reality of it, sure, but I also didn’t want to stick my head back in the sand. I was scared and felt more helpless now than I had ever before—but I was also one hundred and twenty-seven pounds of pretty freaking pissed off. I was far from thrilled to have had such a strange and alienating responsibility thrust upon my shoulders, but wishing it away wouldn’t keep me safe from the monsters. Worse, it wouldn’t keep the people I loved safe either. Maybe I had already made up my mind to help them on the cab ride over; it just took my brain a little more time to catch up to my heart.

My choices were dwindling. It was time to roll the hard six. “You said the other night that you needed me to help you locate a ‘secret keeper.’ What is that?”

She perked up. The naked relief I saw in her face embarrassed me. “Does that mean you will help us?”

“Maybe.” I loaded the word with all the impartiality I could muster. We both knew that, to stand any chance of stopping all this weirdness from overtaking my life, I would be forced to bargain with them. Still, my father had raised me better than to throw my lot in with strangers without getting the full story first. “I want to know what I’m getting into before I make any promises.”

A smile brightened her face like the sun breaking through storm clouds. “Secret Keeper is a title, much as you would be considered a Warder or I a Healer. It is given to those who possess a gift my people call the Remembering. This Gift gives the Secret Keeper an infallible memory. They have been privy to many things now long forgotten, passed down through others of the bloodline. Their touch unlocks many secrets in the minds of those they connect with. Sometimes they glean things that even the quarry has forgotten. Like Warders or Guardians, they once served our rulers exclusively.